#and tony face palms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteotlma · 2 months ago

Text

craving control

— neither of you could resist what was always meant to happen.

alpha!bucky x omega!reader (9.2kw)

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, dubcon a/b/o dynamics, possessive behavior, biting/marking, power dynamics, including praise kink, size kink, rough intimacy, physical restraint, sexual tension, emotional dependency, desperation, and themes "feral, uncontrollable need.", elements of mating/claiming, explores intense feelings of vulnerability and submission.

a/n: honestly,, i have no words -- weeks in the making and im not satisfied w how this turned out. like when you stare at something for too long. and it starts to look weird

———

On the day of Bucky’s arrival, it was safe to say the only one truly excited was Steve. The air in the compound felt charged, heavy with anticipation and unspoken tension.

Tony walked up beside you and Nat by the massive window, the sharp scent of machine oil mingling with his expensive cologne as he wiped stubborn grease from his hands. Years of working together had made their commanding presence familiar and comfortable, like the steady hum of lab equipment around you.

The window shook as debris kicked up from the descending helicopter, which was landing in the middle of the field. Tony inhaled deeply, his dark eyes meeting yours and Nat’s with a characteristic assessing look that instinctively made others straighten their spines. Nat smirked and raised an eyebrow, prompting a small smile from you, though you couldn't fully shake the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

The helicopter door slid open in slow motion as Steve emerged, his broad shoulders and confident stride capturing every gaze in the vicinity. He turned and, stepping out behind him, a dark figure followed—a stark contrast, night to Steve's day. The moment Bucky appeared, the air seemed to shift—a raw, untamed energy that made your breath catch and your pulse quicken. Even from a distance, there was something different, something dangerous about him, that made your skin prickle with awareness, and your fingers curl tightly around the tablet in your hands.

"Disperse, disperse," Tony muttered, his natural authority causing everyone to instinctively move as he turned away. The others followed suit, including an omega technician who stumbled in their haste to appear busy at their station.

You turned back to your workstation, pressing your palms to the cool steel table to ground yourself. You could feel Steve and his companion approaching—Steve’s familiar warmth contrasting sharply with the newcomer’s intensity.

The familiar scents of solder and circuitry should have been calming, but they couldn't quite mask the oncoming storm of Steve’s sunlit warmth mixed with something darker and wilder—like pine needles and leather and crisp winter air.

When the main doors opened, the room was flooded with alpha energy, subtle yet impossible to ignore, like fog rolling in at dawn. "Guys, this is Buck," Steve said, the sound of his hand landing on leather echoing in the sudden quiet.

"Bucky," came the correction—a voice like gravel over silk, sending a shiver down your spine as you gripped your soldering iron tighter, the metal warm against your suddenly trembling fingers. It wasn’t their presence that unsettled you; it was the way your instincts responded before you could think.

Nat’s silent approach gave her the air of a predator as she circled closer. "Barnes," she acknowledged, her voice cold and steely. The space between them crackled with unspoken assessment, neither yielding nor challenging.

"Good to see you again, Robocop," Tony called out, his voice cutting through the tension. His hologram's blue glow cast shadows over his face as he peered over his glasses. "Make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable." His words, casual yet sharp as ozone before a storm, hung in the air.

“The rest of you, back to work—we have a deadline,” Tony added with a wave of his pen, and like magic, the lab resumed its rhythm, though the atmosphere had fundamentally shifted.

You bent over your work, hyper-focused on the tiny components scattered across your station, but every nerve seemed attuned to Bucky’s presence. The familiar lab scents—hot metal, coffee, and sharp electronics—were muted beneath this new awareness.

"Y/n~" Steve’s warm, knowing voice rolled through the space, and your fingers stilled on the circuit board, your heart stuttering. The approaching footsteps seemed to echo with your pulse, each step tightening the coil in your shoulders. That scent—leather and pine now mixed with something metallic and sharp—grew stronger, drying your mouth.

You managed a confident smile and turned, only for Steve to pull you into an embrace, lifting you slightly off your feet. His familiar scent—soap and sunshine—wrapped around you like a blanket, momentarily drowning everything else.

"Missed ya, kiddo," he murmured, affection coloring his tone. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you relaxed into his comforting presence.

"Missed you too, Cap," you managed with a breathless laugh as he set you down. Movement caught your eye—Bucky shifting behind Steve—and that new awareness crashed back like a wave. You met his gaze for a split second before he looked away, but that brief connection felt electric. His storm-gray eyes held something untamed that made your knees weak.

“Buck, this is Y/n,” Steve introduced. “Y/n, Buck.” The contrast between them was dizzying—Steve's golden warmth beside Bucky's winter-sharp presence. Suddenly, your workspace felt too small, the air heavy with unspoken things.

"Bucky," he repeated, his voice rougher up close, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. He stepped closer, hands at his sides, yet his presence seemed to fill the entire space around you. The fluorescent lights reflected off the plates of his metal arm, casting shifting shadows. Your throat felt dry, and you resisted the urge to fidget with your tools.

Steve’s voice cut through the thick tension, either unaware of it or ignoring it. "Listen, I tried the magnets again," he said, the sound of leather hitting steel making you jump slightly as he tossed his gloves onto your workstation. His worn leather scent mingled with Bucky’s, making focus difficult.

You raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. "And...?"

"And I hate it." He rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the tension. "It's just not the same."

You glanced between the gloves and Steve's sheepish expression, ignoring how Bucky’s gaze seemed to track your every movement. Even without looking directly at him, you felt his attention like static electricity, raising goosebumps along your arms.

"Think you could just yank 'em out for me?" Steve asked with that irresistible smile, though your attention kept drifting to Bucky, who stood silent and watchful.

You scoffed and shook your head, stepping around the counter to switch on the table light. Sitting on the stool across from Steve, you shot him a look.

“Fine, fine,” you said, picking up the gloves. “Guess you still have a chance to dread the day I say no.”

Steve grinned. “I don’t even wanna think about it.” He gestured subtly towards Bucky. “Figured you could handle this too. Bucky’s got some gear that might need adjustments.” It wasn’t a command, just Steve’s assumption that Bucky would be sticking close.

“Sounds good. I’ll find some time this week to schedule you in, so we can see what I’m working with,” you said, motioning to his arm.

“Okay,” Bucky replied, his voice low with a hint of warmth.

---

That was two weeks ago. Since then, you’d been buried in projects with Tony and Banner, testing prototypes and troubleshooting quirks in Stark’s tech.

Missions came and went, but you mostly stayed at the compound—tuning weapons, running diagnostics, and keeping Stark's experiments from exploding (again). The lab had become your sanctuary, where complex problems could be solved with enough focus. Yet lately, your normally steady hands trembled at unexpected moments, your concentration slipping at the sound of familiar footsteps in the corridor.

There wasn’t much time for that one-on-one work with Bucky you’d promised, though you occasionally glimpsed him around the compound. Still finding his footing here, he was a shadow at Steve’s side, quiet and watchful. Tony would drag him into the lab occasionally to discuss modifications—if he wanted any.

You tried not to notice how his eyes found you whenever he was in the lab, lingering until you accidentally met his gaze. At first, he’d look away, jaw tightening as he focused on whatever Tony was explaining. But minutes later, you’d feel it again—his attention like a compass pointing north.

In brief hallway encounters, your greetings came out softer than intended, his response a quiet rumble that stayed with you long after he walked away. One time, both of you reached for the lab door handle simultaneously. His fingers brushed yours, sending electricity up your arm. He pulled back, muttering an apology before disappearing around the corner, abandoning whatever awaited him in the lab.

It was ridiculous how such small moments left you distracted for hours.

Then one morning, Tony burst into the lab, with Steve following closely behind, practically dragging a reluctant Bucky.

“Hey, kid,” Tony called out, startling you. You lifted the magnifying goggles off your face, welcoming the cool air. Banner, hunched across the table with identical goggles, glanced up briefly.

“Please tell me we have Barnes’ baseline readings from when he got here,” Tony said, his tone implying a slight scolding. You looked at Banner, embarrassed. When you shook your head, Tony groaned dramatically.

“Seriously? Three weeks and—“ He took a deep breath, hands on his hips as he surveyed the cluttered lab, evidence of recent activity. “Okay, that’s on me. Fixed. Now.” He practically pushed Bucky onto the stool beside your workstation.

“Do your thing. Science, data, all that—" Tony trailed off, looking at Banner, who took the cue and clumsily exited, engaging Tony in a transparently forced conversation about a new gadget. Steve left shortly after, flashing an encouraging smile that made your cheeks burn.

The moment they left, the lab felt impossibly smaller. Bucky shifted slightly behind you, and though he was quieter than quiet, his presence seemed to fill every inch of space around you. He kept a respectful distance, but it didn’t matter—you could feel him, each breath and subtle movement stirring the air, making your skin prickle with awareness.

Your hands trembled slightly as you pulled up the diagnostic programs. "I'll need to..." you began, voice softer than you intended, "run some basic tests first. It might take a while." Turning toward him, you found his storm-grey eyes already fixed on you, dark and intent.

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze heavy and unrelenting, as though he was trying to read the thoughts you couldn’t quite form. Your throat tightened under the weight of his stare, and your hands instinctively curled into fists to ground yourself.

“I’ll need you to…” You gestured vaguely, your voice catching. “You’re gonna have to take off your sh-shirt. Just... so I can get a better look.” Your voice faltered, and heat bloomed across your cheeks.

For a beat, Bucky didn’t move. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached behind his neck, tugging the navy henley over his head. The fabric slid away, revealing his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, veiled by the thin fabric of his white tank. The subtle shift of his muscles as he moved sent a quiet jolt through your system, making your breath catch.

He tossed the henley carelessly over his shoulder, and you tried—desperately—to stay focused.

“Extend your arm for me,” you murmured, the words coming out softer than intended. He complied with that same quiet grace, his frame stiffening as you gently adjusted his arm.

Without thinking, you stepped between his legs, close enough that your hips grazed his thighs. The heat of his body radiated toward you, and the scent of pine, winter air, and leather curled around you, heavy and dizzying.

Bucky shifted again—a slow, unconscious movement as he spread his legs a little wider, as if making room for you without realizing it. The gesture was likely nothing, but to you, it felt far too intimate, and it took all your willpower not to react to the heat pooling in your belly.

You focused on the smooth metal of his arm, running your fingers along the seams and joints, marveling at the precision of its construction. His hand found your waist. The touch was light at first, perhaps just to steady himself, but his palm lingered, broad and warm over your lab coat.

The weight of his hand sent a shiver up your spine, your pulse fluttering beneath your skin. His thumb brushed the hem of your coat where the white fabric met your wine-colored shirt, as if testing its texture. Your breath caught involuntarily.

Slowly, your gaze traveled from his fingertips up the seams of his arm to his face. When you looked up, his eyes were already on you—dark, intense, unreadable, but consuming. His gaze dropped briefly to the curve of your collarbones peeking through your shirt before flicking back to meet your eyes, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

The room shrank around you, the tension pulling taut—an invisible thread tugging you closer. Neither of you spoke; neither of you moved.

The air between you stretched, heavy and charged, the weight of his hand on your waist making it impossible to focus on anything but him. His thumb grazed the edge of your shirt again—soft, deliberate—and you swore the world slowed down, teetering on the edge of something inevitable.

The comm system beeped, loud and sudden, shattering the moment. Both of you jerked slightly, like surfacing from deep water.

"Y/N?" Tony’s voice crackled through the speaker. "Banner needs you in the main lab—now."

Bucky’s hand slipped from your waist, his jaw clenching as though grounding himself. You took a step back, heart pounding, the absence of his touch making the space between you feel colder and emptier than it should.

Clearing your throat, you looked anywhere but at him. “I–uh, I should go.”

He nodded once, slow and unreadable, as you turned quickly, your hand dragging hesitantly down his arm, slipping out of the room before the tension could pull you back in.

You slipped out of the room, heart still racing, Bucky’s presence clinging to you like static electricity. Even as you tossed and turned in bed later that night, the moment lingered—his hand on your waist, his scent in your lungs, and the weight of his gaze heavy on your mind.

That evening clung to you like a live wire beneath your skin, but the next few days brought subtle shifts in the compound's atmosphere. Where Bucky once moved like a shadow, now he inhabited spaces differently. During morning briefings, you noticed him leaning against workbenches instead of standing guard by the wall, his gaze still watchful but carrying something new—curiosity, maybe.

Since that evening in the lab, you buried yourself in projects with Tony and Banner, testing new prototypes and troubleshooting quirks in Stark's tech. Small out-of-town missions came and went, but you remained rooted at the compound—tuning weapons, running diagnostics, and preventing Stark's experiments from turning into full-blown disasters (again). The lab had become your sanctuary, where complex problems could be solved with enough focus. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, focus had become a luxury you couldn't afford. Your usually steady hands betrayed you, trembling at the worst moments, especially whenever familiar footsteps echoed down the corridor.

If Bucky did come into the lab, there weren’t many opportunities for one-on-one work, though you’d catch fleeting glimpses of him. He still seemed to be finding his footing, a shadow at Steve’s side—quiet and observant, as if measuring every person and place before stepping too close. Occasionally, Tony would bring him into the lab to discuss possible modifications, though Bucky seemed reluctant, deflecting with grunts and unreadable glances.

But it was impossible to ignore how his eyes always sought you out. Whenever he entered the room, your senses sharpened, drawn to him without permission. His gaze lingered a second too long—enough to make your stomach flip, your pulse flutter beneath your skin. But whenever you met his eyes, he’d glance away, his jaw tightening as if wrestling with something unspoken. Yet, moments later, you’d feel the pull again—his attention returning like a compass that couldn’t help but point north.

This awareness began to happen outside the lab too, in brief, inconsequential encounters that left you unraveled. Once, passing each other in the hallway, your soft greeting was met by his low, rumbling reply, curling around your senses long after he’d disappeared. Another time, reaching for the same door handle, his fingers brushed yours, the shock of contact sending electricity racing up your arm. He pulled back as though burned, muttering an apology before vanishing without explanation. You stood there, stunned, wondering how such a fleeting touch could leave you restless for hours.

Each day made it harder to maintain composure. It was as if your body had developed a traitorous awareness of him—heart stuttering beneath your ribs, skin flushing at the slightest thought of him, senses sharpening to track his movements before your mind even registered he was near. No matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in work, even Tony’s endless stream of projects couldn’t silence the way your pulse leapt whenever Bucky’s footsteps echoed down the corridor.

These changes appeared in fragments—a barely-there smile when Tony's prototype backfired, sparks shooting across the lab; the way his shoulders lost their rigid set when Steve drew out his dry humor during mission prep. Each small victory revealed another layer beneath the soldier’s facade.

Your paths began crossing more often. Sometimes, he’d appear in the kitchen during your late-night tea runs, nursing coffee while reading news on a tablet. His silent nods evolved into a new half-smile that never failed to make your heart race. His scent—pine and leather—began to carry warmer notes, softening from sharp winter to something more approachable.

Then, when Sam suggested movie night, every instinct screamed at you to decline. The thought of being in an enclosed space with Bucky—away from the clinical safety of the lab, surrounded by comfortable, dim intimacy—made your stomach flutter with anxious energy. But before you could find an excuse, Nat flashed you a knowing smile, firmly pulling you from your workstation. You barely had time to protest.

Now, nestled between Nat and Sam on the couch, you tried to focus on the movie, but your attention kept drifting across the room to him. Bucky sat in an armchair like he owned the space, his relaxed body only making him look more dangerous. His legs were spread wide, one arm draped over the back, the other resting on his thigh—a casual pose that somehow felt deliberate.

You told yourself to stay present, to engage with Nat and Sam’s easy banter, but Bucky’s presence made it impossible. His scent—faint but unmistakable—hovered at the edge of your awareness, a mix of pine, leather, and something deeper that spoke to a part of you beyond reason.

Then it happened. During a lull in the movie, when everything fell quiet, you felt it—his gaze.

A pulse of heat spread through your chest, as if an invisible thread had tugged you toward him. You risked a glance, only to find him already watching you. Even in the dim light, his storm-gray eyes were locked on yours, intense and unwavering. His expression was unreadable, but there was a weight to his stare that made your pulse stutter and breath catch in your throat.

The flickering blue light of the TV softened the sharp lines of his face, but it did nothing to dull the tension humming between you. For a moment, it felt like the room had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in the dark—silent, secret, caught in a moment neither dared to acknowledge.

You tried convincing yourself he wasn’t really looking at you, that maybe he was watching Sam or had drifted off into thought. But the flip in your stomach, the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin, told a different story.

Bucky didn’t look away. His stare held steady, as if something deep and instinctual was keeping him tethered to you—as though he was drawn to you in the same way you were to him. The connection between you wasn’t just a passing glance. It felt ancient, inevitable, as if some unseen force had been guiding you to this moment long before either of you realized it.

The air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define, and you were certain that even if you could name it, neither of you was ready. Your scent, warm and sweet, had changed in subtle ways—just enough for Bucky to notice, to make his chest tighten with a growing certainty. This wasn’t just attraction; it was recognition. Instinct. Raw instinct clawed through him, responding to the quiet, subtle shift in yours. You were close—too close—and every part of him, from the deepest part of his mind to the tension winding through his muscles, felt it.

The spell broke when Steve shifted on the couch beside him, dragging you both back to reality. You blinked, heart hammering as you tore your gaze away, heat blooming beneath your skin, spreading like wildfire, a faint sheen of sweat on your brow.

You swallowed hard, trying to refocus on the movie, but the moment lingered like a phantom touch. Even as you stared straight ahead, you could feel the weight of his gaze, its memory humming along your nerves, leaving you restless and aching in ways you didn’t understand.

When the movie ended, you escaped as quickly as you could, muttering a rushed “good night” and fleeing to your room, hoping the familiar comfort of your own space would ground you. But even surrounded by your belongings, wrapped in your own scent, you couldn't quiet the hum of awareness thrumming beneath your skin.

Bucky's scent clung to you, lodged in your senses like a memory you couldn’t shake. Pine, leather, and something darker—something wild that kept teetering you on the brink of losing control. There was something building inside you, a slow-burning awareness you weren’t ready to acknowledge, hoping no one else could sense the change taking hold of you.

Each encounter with him pulled at something deep within you, like a tide responding to the moon. His scent overshadowed everything, lingering in your senses long after he was gone.

And Bucky—you noticed everything now, every detail sharp and vivid, though you tried to convince yourself you were reading too much into it. The way his eyes lingered a second too long—but of course, people always stared at him. The slight flex of his fingers when you passed by—a habit, surely. The barely audible catch in his breath when you were near—probably just your imagination, heightened by whatever was happening to your body.

Maybe you were imagining the way his carefully controlled demeanor seemed to slip around you—those tiny cracks in his composure you couldn't stop noticing. After all, a man like him, always so disciplined, wouldn’t be affected by someone like you… would he? Yet, something raw beneath his surface called to you, making your heart race whenever he was close. The air felt electric between you, crackling with possibility—even as you tried to tell yourself it was just his effect on everyone, that you weren’t special, that it was just your body playing tricks.

After tonight, you couldn’t deny it any longer. During movie night, his stare had lingered like phantom touches, and your skin had felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with awareness. Even in the sanctuary of your room, surrounded by familiar scents, you couldn’t escape the memory of pine and leather.

And as days passed, it only seemed to worsen. When Fury assigned you to oversee the team’s training equipment and Tony ensured you continued working with Steve, observing Bucky was already inevitable. Watching him felt different than those first weeks. You’d glimpsed the man beneath the careful control—caught fragments of dry humor in mission briefings, witnessed quiet camaraderie with Steve. The dangerous edge remained, but now it felt more… intentional. Like he was choosing to let people see beyond the soldier’s facade, revealing glimpses of the man underneath.

These glimpses made training observation even more daunting. Because now you knew what lay beneath his cool exterior—had witnessed the subtle humor in his eyes, the careful way he was learning to exist in spaces without defending them.

Your fingers trembled against the tablet's smooth surface at the thought of watching him work. Being that close to him during combat training, with his presence at its most intense… The thought alone made your mouth go dry.

Training sessions became their own kind of exquisite torture. Your role was simple—monitor the team’s gear, run diagnostics, and ensure everything functioned. But watching Bucky spar was anything but simple.

Between rounds, you brought him water—a straightforward task that became anything but as his eyes tracked your movement across the training room. Your fitted jacket clung to your curves, and you felt the weight of his stare as you approached. It was refreshing, seeing him like this. The quiet, brooding soldier was still there, but lately, there had been glimpses of something else—a playful charm that felt both dangerous and irresistible.

"Tryna’ keep me hydrated, doc?" His voice was rough from exertion, teasing in a way that sent heat pooling in your stomach. This was the Bucky emerging more and more lately—the one who’d somehow found his footing again, letting his guard down just enough to allow a trace of Brooklyn charm to slip through.

"Can’t have our best asset passing out from dehydration," you managed to reply, proud of how steady your voice remained. When you handed him the bottle, his fingers brushed yours, sending electricity skittering across your skin.

"Our best asset, huh?" He tipped his head back to drink, and you couldn’t help but watch his throat work, beads of sweat trailing down his neck. His eyes met yours over the bottle, darkening as they drifted to where your jacket dipped low. "Like what you see?"

This was dangerous territory—this newfound confidence of his, the way he was testing the waters between playful and flirtatious. "Just making sure you’re drinking enough water," you murmured, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You wondered if he could hear how your heart stumbled in your chest, if he sensed the hitch in your breath when he licked a stray drop from his lower lip.

He moved with a predator’s grace—smooth, controlled, and lethal. Each punch, each fluid shift of his body, sent a pulse of heat through you. Your throat felt dry as you watched the muscles in his back ripple beneath his fitted shirt, the metal of his arm gleaming under the lights. You told yourself this was normal, that anyone would be affected watching him move like this—but deep down, you knew this was different.

At one point, he had Steve pinned to the mat, his arm flexed, holding Steve in place with ease, chest heaving with exertion. His gaze flicked to you, locking eyes for a split second that sent butterflies surging in your stomach—and a darker, more primal flutter somewhere lower. That slow-burning awareness inside you flared hot and urgent.

Your fingers slipped, and your tablet clattered to the floor with a loud thunk. Everyone turned to look, including Steve, but all you could focus on was the faint grin curling at the edge of Bucky’s mouth. Your face burned with embarrassment, but there was no mistaking the glint in his eyes—a look that made you wonder if he could sense the changes in you, if he could feel how your body was betraying every attempt at control.

You couldn’t bear to face the team after that display—after dropping your tablet like some starry-eyed recruit. Your skin felt too tight, too warm, your body thrumming with an energy you couldn’t contain. You retreated to your room, but even buried in your own blankets, you couldn’t escape the memory of his knowing smirk, the way his eyes held yours like he knew exactly what was happening to you.

The next few days passed in a haze of mounting tension. Your skin felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with awareness. Even in the sanctuary of your room, surrounded by familiar scents and belongings, you couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental was shifting inside you. Sleep became elusive, your body alternating between feverish and chilled, leaving you restless and aching for... something.

By the time you wandered to the kitchen at 3 AM, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, but sleep remained just out of reach. The compound was eerily quiet at this hour, the hum of electronics the only sound as your slippers whispered across the cool tile.

You sat at the kitchen island, elbows resting on the countertop as you flipped through your options—tea or coffee. Settling on tea, you rose to grab your favorite mug from the cabinet. The dim lighting softened everything, making the space feel smaller, more intimate, as if the night itself carried a promise of something unspoken.

You were so focused on your task that you didn’t hear him approach.

"Can't sleep?"

His voice, low and rough with sleep, startled you enough to make you gasp softly. You whirled around to find him emerging from the shadows, stepping into a sanctuary—one where, in this moment, it felt like only you and he existed. The dim light traced the sharp lines of his face, deepening the shadows beneath his cheekbones and along his jaw.

He wore soft sleep pants that rested low on his hips, and the black shirt clung to his frame, leaving little to the imagination. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with something you couldn't name—something that thrummed between you, waiting to be acknowledged.

"I…" Your voice faltered, throat dry under his gaze. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Just wanted some tea."

Bucky stepped further into the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like a wolf closing in. For someone so large, he moved with unsettling grace—silent and fluid. "Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, though his question held a depth, as if he were offering more than conversation.

You turned back to the cabinet, reaching for your mug, but your fingers trembled. Before it could slip from your grasp, his hand wrapped around your wrist, steadying you.

"You okay?" His voice was closer now, concern threading through the rough edges.

"Yeah, I’m—" you began, but stopped as you felt his thumb pressing unconsciously against your pulse. The gentle pressure sent electricity dancing up your arm, and you couldn’t help but track how his throat worked as he swallowed.

"Hey," he murmured, voice low. His eyes darkened as they searched your face, and you watched something shift in his expression—recognition, maybe, or realization. His nostrils flared slightly. "You’ve seemed… off lately."

"I'm fine," you managed, but your voice came out breathy, unconvincing. "Just haven’t been sleeping well."

He held your gaze a moment longer, then stepped back slowly, as if it took effort to put distance between you. The absence of his touch left your skin tingling, aching for contact you couldn’t afford to want.

"Maybe some chamomile, then," he suggested, his voice rougher than before. You noticed his fingers curling into fists at his sides, his jaw clenched as he worked to maintain the distance.

You managed a small nod, turning back to the cabinet with unsteady hands. Though he’d released your wrist, he hadn’t moved back far—still standing between you and the island, leaving you caught between his body and the counter. His presence lingered, heavy and warm, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his chest.

The small space between you crackled with electricity, making it impossible to focus on the simple task of making tea. The kettle felt too loud in the silence, steam rising like a physical manifestation of the tension thickening the air.

When you finally turned back around, gripping your mug like an anchor, you found his eyes stormy, his jaw set as if he was fighting something within himself. He took a deliberate step back, creating distance that somehow made the air feel even heavier.

"I should…" he started, voice rough. "Let you get some rest." But he didn’t move immediately, as if reluctant to leave.

Something in you wanted to tell him to stay, but the words stuck in your throat. The space between you felt charged, like the air before a storm. His scent—pine and leather—wrapped around you, stronger now, making your head spin.

He moved first, turning toward the entryway with careful control, his movements almost rigid. But he paused at the threshold, his metal hand gripping the wall frame with enough force to make the material creak softly.

"Get some sleep, doll," he said without looking back, his voice carrying something dark and hungry that made your skin prickle with heat. Then he was gone, leaving you alone with the cooling tea and the phantom sensation of his touch still burning around your wrist.

After standing frozen in the kitchen for what felt like hours, you finally forced yourself back to your room. Your skin felt too tight, every nerve hypersensitive as you stumbled through the doorway. The trek down the hallway was torture—his lingering scent clung to your clothes, your skin, leaving you dizzy with desire.

You barely made it to your bed before your legs gave out. The sheets felt rough against your fevered skin, and you kicked them off with a frustrated whimper. Your wrist still burned where he touched you, the memory of his thumb against your pulse making your breath hitch.

Rolling onto your back, you pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to ground yourself. But behind closed lids, all you could see was the way his eyes had darkened in the kitchen, the tension in his jaw barely contained. Your body thrummed with awareness, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as waves of heat washed over you.

You forced yourself to breathe deeply, counting each inhale like Banner had taught you during training. One breath, then another, even as your skin prickled with need. The steady hum of the air conditioning became your focus, not the memory of Bucky's voice, rough and low in the darkness.

Slowly, exhaustion won over the fever burning through your veins. Your muscles ached from fighting against the tension, and eventually, your body surrendered to the pull of sleep. The last thing you registered was the ghost of pine and leather clinging to your shirt before darkness claimed you.

Consciousness returned slowly, like surfacing from deep water. The first thing you registered was warmth on your face—sunlight streaming through your windows, casting everything in hues of honey and gold. Your room looked almost dreamlike, dust motes dancing in the amber rays.

As your vision focused, you noticed signs of Banner’s care—a bowl of soup on your nightstand, now cold; several water bottles arranged within reach; and a damp cloth on your forehead, long since losing its coolness. The quiet thoughtfulness of it made your chest tighten with gratitude.

You sat up gingerly, testing your body’s response. The fever hadn’t broken—if anything, it burned hotter now—but the rest had given you enough strength to make you restless, to make the walls of your room feel like they were closing in.

The water bottles mocked you, lukewarm and useless against the heat coursing through your veins. Ice. You needed ice. The thought became an obsession, driving you to your feet despite shaky legs. You pulled on a thin robe over your sleep clothes, ignoring how even the silky material felt too rough against your sensitized skin.

The hallway stretched before you, bathed in that same golden light that made everything feel surreal. Your slipper-clad feet made no sound on the cool floor as you made your way toward the kitchen. The compound felt different—eerily still, as if everyone had vanished. No voices from the labs, no footsteps down corridors. Just silence, with the strange amber glow making everything look softened, dreamlike.

You moved as if in a trance, your body feeling both heavy and weightless. The fever made everything hazy, like you were watching yourself from a distance. Each breath drew in air that felt too thick, too warm, despite the steady climate control.

Your feet carried you forward without conscious thought, your path wavering slightly as you trailed a hand along the wall for balance. The golden light streaming through the windows turned the hallway into something otherworldly, making the simple journey feel infinite.

Then it hit you—pine and leather, winter air and something darker. Your body responded before your mind could catch up, drawn to his scent like a moth to flame.

As you reach the living room, your destination becomes hazy, forgotten. The room opens before you, bathed in honeyed light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows. The hardwood floor gleams like liquid amber, stretching toward where Bucky sits, his broad frame sunk deep into the plush sofa, seeming to melt into the cushions.

His eyes lock onto yours over the book he’d been reading, and even through your fevered haze, you see the way they darken, storm-gray deepening into something darker. Neither of you moves. The air between you feels charged, heavy with unspoken words.

"Y/N," he breathes, your name a warning. His whole body tenses as if to rise, but something keeps him frozen, fingers white-knuckled around the forgotten book. You watch his throat work as he swallows hard. "You shouldn’t—you need to go back to your room."

To him, you must look like something out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on his self-control. Your silk robe catches the light as you move, revealing glimpses of your tank top and shorts underneath. One sock has slipped down your ankle, and your hair falls messily around your face. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted in shallow breaths.

You take an unsteady step into the room, looking as if you’re floating across the hardwood, each faltering step a deliberate tease. When you reach the armchair, your robe slips further off one shoulder as you grip the chair for support. "I needed…" The words trail off. Did you need ice? Water? Everything feels secondary to the pull you feel toward him.

The room sways slightly beneath your feet. Bucky shifts, fighting the instinct to reach for you. You watch his chest rise with a sharp breath as your scent reaches him, sweet and heavy in the golden air. A bead of sweat trails down your neck, disappearing beneath your tank top.

"You're burning up," he says roughly, his voice holding a darker edge that makes a heat pool in your stomach. His pupils are blown wide as he tracks every small movement of your body.

You attempt to lower yourself into the armchair, but the world tilts. Your knee catches the edge of the coffee table as you stumble, a breathless giggle escaping your lips at your own clumsiness, and your robe slips down to reveal more of your shoulders.

"Shit," Bucky mutters, finally breaking his careful stillness. "You're gonna hurt yourself." He rises in one fluid motion, crossing the space between you in two strides. His hands hover near your arms, not quite touching. "Let’s get you situated."

"M’okay," you insist, though your legs feel like jelly, and you sway into him unconsciously as your robe slips off completely. His hands finally make contact with your bare arms, and the touch sends electricity racing across your fevered skin. "Just needed to sit..."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice is strained, almost amused, but you hear the concern underneath. He tries to steady you, guiding you toward the chair, but your knees buckle in that moment.

"Alright—" He catches you against his chest, the sudden contact drawing a small huff from you. You feel more than hear his sharp intake of breath. “You alright?” he asks, peeling you off him, holding you at arm's length.

“Mm—” Your body aches at the loss of heat, eyebrows scrunching in annoyance. You sigh, dragging your gaze up Bucky’s large frame until you meet his darkened eyes. “Yeah, m’fine.” Huffing, you look away.

“Don’t lie.” He steps closer, pulling you in. Your breath hitches.

“I’m not…” Sweat beads on the back of your neck, and a lump forms in your throat. You try to take a deep breath, but with Bucky so close, it’s unbearable. Unknowingly, you grab at Bucky’s shirt, fisting the fabric in your hand.

“Tell the truth.” His gaze drops to where your hand grips his shirt, and something unreadable flickers across his face. He gently pries your fingers from the fabric, his own hands lingering on yours a moment too long. His voice is low, almost a growl. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, doll.”

The nickname makes your throat tighten, pulse jumping, skin prickling with awareness. You should step back, say something to break the magnetic pull between you, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you lean in closer, closing the small distance between you. God, you wanted him so badly, and it was excruciating.

He inhales sharply, his hands settling on your shoulders, as if to steady you—or maybe himself. “Doll…” The word escapes him again, rough and raw, like he’s barely holding back. “Say something—tell me to leave.” The command is more a plea, his voice thick with barely contained desperation, brows drawn tight in concern.

He watches you, his words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You feel their weight pressing down, his warning wrapped within the plea. Your mind races, considering every reason to step back, every way this could complicate things.

“I—” You rake your hands up his torso, fingers dragging lightly against the fabric of his shirt. Snaking your arms around his neck, you pull him impossibly close, sharing the air between you. Neither of you speaks, neither of you moves. You feel his chest heaving against yours.

“Y/N…” he whispers, almost painfully. His hand, still warm on your arm, travels up to cradle your neck, thumb on your jaw as he tilts your head. His hooded eyes linger on your lips, and you unconsciously lick them. He sucks in a sharp breath.

The golden light streaming through the windows catches in his dark hair, turning the loose strands framing his face into threads of amber. Your hands slide up, fingertips brushing the back of his neck, where his shoulder-length hair falls free, some pieces tucked carelessly behind his ear. You let your fingers tangle in the soft strands, feeling them slip like silk between your fingers. You hesitate for only a second before you whisper, “I need to know I’m not the only one.”

For a heartbeat, he’s utterly still, his eyes searching yours, and then his hand tightens just slightly on your waist, with a tenderness that steals your breath. “You’re not,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours, his voice rough and honest. “Not even close.”

The moment his words register, your last thread of control snaps. You finally, finally meet his lips with all the desperation that’s been building for weeks. A rough sound escapes him, vibrating through your chest as his other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss is devastating in its intensity—wild, demanding, and absolutely consuming, like you’re both trying to devour each other whole.

His lips press firmly against yours, the scrape of his stubble rough on your heated skin, and a pained whine escapes your mouth—whether from pain or need, neither of you can tell, but it spurs Bucky on. He deepens the kiss, his hands pressing you closer, tighter.

Your fingers, tangled in his hair, tug at the strands as you push yourself up on your toes, arching into him, your body ignited by his touch. A wave of need crashes through you, driven by every instinct you’ve been holding back, and you’re already pushing him back toward the sofa, your movements frenzied as his hands trace the curve of your waist, his fingers firm and possessive.

As you push him toward the sofa, a flicker of guilt pierces through the fog clouding your mind. It’s quick but sharp, cutting through the pull that’s been building for weeks. Everything’s moving too fast, crossing boundaries you haven’t even had time to define, and the uncertainty knots inside you. But your body refuses to listen, as though it recognizes him in a way your mind can’t fully grasp, holding you close.

You stumble back with him until his legs hit the edge of the sofa, and he sinks down, pulling you with him until you’re straddling his lap. His hands slide up to grip your hips, steadying you as you settle over him. The moment you feel his body beneath you, hard and solid, a fresh wave of heat surges through you, causing you to grind your hips against his slowly, testing the waters.

The guilt slips through the haze once more, cutting into your thoughts like a knife. You press your hands to his chest, fingers splaying over his muscles, and pull back enough to see concern flicker in his eyes.

“Buck,” you whisper, caught between confession and apology. “I wanted us to take our time…” Your hands drift lower, grazing just beneath his shirt’s hem, brushing over the coarse hair trailing downward. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips makes your breath hitch, and a shiver runs through you as you continue, voice softer, more vulnerable. “To let this mean something.”

Your fingers trace over the waistband of his pajama pants, then dip lightly between the open buttons, your touch featherlight, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. His body jolts beneath you, jaw clenching in response. His hands flex on your hips, holding you steady, his gaze dark and hungry, struggling for restraint.

“I can’t… I can’t stop myself,” you murmur, voice thick with need. Yet, your hands betray any hesitation, moving slowly, steadily, opening each button, exposing his skin inch by inch, the heat radiating from him only spurring you on. The admission escapes your lips, almost a whimper. “I feel like I’m losing control.”

Bucky’s breath comes out ragged, his fingers pressing into your skin as he fights to stay steady beneath your touch. “Then lose it,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his thumb tracing slow circles over your hipbone, sending warmth through you. “Take control, baby.” His tone is a low, commanding murmur, yet open, a willing offering beneath you. “I’m here to give you exactly what you need… use me, all of me.”

“God, you’re unbelievable…” You laugh breathlessly, but with his words, all your anxieties dissolve, the tight knot inside loosening as he smirks and pulls you down for another heated kiss.

With his permission, something inside you snaps, all restraint dissolving as his hands guide your hips down onto his, pulling you in close. You both let out a guttural moan as you sink into his lap, the thin layers of fabric between you doing nothing to dull the intense pressure of his thick length pressing up against you. Heat radiates from him, his arousal straining beneath his pants, sending a dizzying surge of need through you, leaving you breathless.

With each roll of your hips, you’re consumed by him, the ache pulsing through your core, tethering you to the warmth of his body and the intoxicating pull of his scent. He presses against you, hard and unyielding, a promise of everything you crave, every inch of him driving you closer to surrender. A shiver runs down your spine, every nerve alive with anticipation; it’s too much, yet somehow not enough.

A low chuckle escapes him, his chest vibrating beneath your hands as he watches you grind on him, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His hands wrap firmly around your hips, guiding your movements in a possessive grip that leaves no doubt he’s claiming you in every way. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dark and rich, gaze sweeping over every inch of you. “Such a needy little omega, strung out and desperate, aren’t you?” The words ripple through you, sparking heat that surges through your body, making your heart pound, filling you with a warmth that blurs your vision.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, each grind amplifying the tension clawing through your chest, and it’s overwhelming—almost too much. You’re losing yourself, each moan growing louder, desperate, until Bucky’s thumb presses over your lips, quieting you.

Bucky’s hand covers your mouth gently, a warning smirk tugging at his lips. “Keep it down, sweetheart,” he whispers, his tone edged with danger, but you can’t help the needy sound that slips past his hand, your body bucking in response. You pull back slightly, eyes wide, voice a breathless murmur as you ask, “Where is everyone?”

The gleam in his eyes darkens, and he grabs your jaw, pulling you close until his breath brushes your lips. “Forget them,” he growls, voice low and possessive, “Focus on me. Eyes on me, omega.” His grip tightens, his words sending a rush of warmth through you, making your hips grind harder, a needy whimper spilling out as he pulls you into a hungry, messy kiss. Teeth graze, tongues tangle, his control evident in the way his hand holds you in place, claiming every shiver, every gasp.

“Alpha… please…” you gasp, voice cracking as you press yourself harder against him, slick soaking through the fabric, feeling the thick, throbbing bulge of his knot beneath you. “Need you… need it so bad.” Your words spill out, desperation lacing every syllable, your body responding to his presence in a way that both thrills and terrifies you. The pressure, the heat, his intensity—it’s everything, almost too much, yet somehow not nearly enough.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he growls, voice dark with possession as his hands slide up to grip your waist, fingers pressing with a force that makes your skin burn. “You’re mine, all mine… dripping for me just from grinding on me.” His words spark something wild and primal, your body moving without thought, surrendering to the rhythm, feeling yourself unravel beneath his gaze.

But as the tension mounts, something inside you starts to break. It’s overwhelming, an aching need so intense that your chest tightens, a gasp escaping as tears begin to blur your vision. It’s too much—the pressure, the pleasure, the helplessness of being so completely in his hands, needing him but unable to take it all just yet. A single tear slips down your cheek, and then another, and soon you’re trembling in his hold, soft, helpless sounds falling from you as you press closer, uncertain if it’s pain or pleasure overtaking you.

Bucky’s eyes narrow as he notices, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his gaze softening for a moment. “Look at you, all worked up,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, yet laced with something almost tender. “Can’t handle it, can you? My little omega, so sensitive.” His words make the ache worse, the tears coming faster as he leans in, pressing a possessive kiss against your lips, swallowing the soft, broken sounds you make.

“Shh… you’re okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dark and rich in your ear, a shiver coursing through you as his hand steadies you, grounding you in his hold. “Not yet, but soon. I’m going to give you everything,” he promises, his tone thick with possession as he presses you firmly to him. “Fill you, claim you, mark every inch of you until there’s nothing left but us, nothing left but me inside you.” His grip tightens, his words a dark promise, and your pulse quickens.

Slowly, Bucky shifts, guiding you back as he leans forward, tilting you until your neck is exposed. Your breath hitches, anticipation winding tight within you, thinking for a split second he’s going to mark you. But instead, he presses a hot, lingering kiss to your collarbone, his lips grazing down your skin as his hand holds you steady. Each soft kiss along your collar sends a thrill through you, his mouth tracing up to the nape of your neck, where he lets his teeth graze lightly, nipping just enough to make you shiver.

Then, with a low growl, he pulls you closer, thrusting hard against you as his teeth sink into your skin, just shy of a mark. The sharp bite sends you over the edge, your body trembling, every nerve igniting as you come undone in his arms, shaking as he holds you steady, his possessive touch grounding you through each wave of pleasure.

Your body quakes in his hold, tremors rolling through you as you cling to him, breathless, every pulse of pleasure leaving you weightless, completely taken. Bucky’s arms stay wrapped around you, grounding you, his lips brushing tenderly over the spot he just bit, his tongue soothing the faint sting as you gasp softly against him.

“There we go… that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick and velvety as he strokes your back, one hand pressing into the small of your spine, holding you close as your breaths slow. His eyes are dark, filled with satisfaction as he watches you, savoring the sight of you so vulnerable, so utterly his.

Your body settles against him, the intense high fading into a soft, hazy warmth. Almost instinctively, you continue to move your hips in slow, gentle circles, soft whimpers escaping as you melt into his shoulder, eyelids growing heavy, drifting somewhere between bliss and sleep.

His hand strokes up your spine, grounding you with each possessive touch. “You feel that?” he whispers, his mouth brushing your ear, his words sending another shiver through you. “This is just the beginning, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I’m far from done with you.”

A small, needy sound slips from your lips as your hips press against him, despite the exhaustion pulling at you. He smirks, fingers tracing slow, possessive patterns along your waist. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied growl. His hand grazes your hip, drawing gentle circles. “But I want more. Think you can handle that?”

You manage a nod, a sleepy, eager response, melting further into him as your eyelids flutter shut. Just as you’re drifting toward sleep, he chuckles softly, pressing a warm kiss to the top of your head. “First, let’s get some rest, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice a gentle command as he lifts you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.

The golden hour light that once bathed the room has deepened into the cool, quiet blue of night, shadows settling around you as he carries you to the bed. The ache in your body has softened, replaced by a warmth, a certainty that relaxes you in his hold, knowing you’re exactly where you belong.

As he lowers you onto the sheets, your fingers instinctively curl into his shirt, needing to keep him close even in your drowsy haze. His hand brushes tenderly over your cheek, the glint in his gaze a promise that makes your heart race yet leaves you calm, knowing he’s yours, that you’re meant to be right here in his arms. The last thing you feel is the weight of his touch grounding you, a promise of what’s to come as sleep finally pulls you under.

---

a/n: all i feel is frustration

#bucky smut #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky buchanan #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #winter soldier smut #winter solider x y/n #winter solider x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #alpha bucky x omega reader #alpha bucky x reader #alpha bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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sytoran · 10 months ago

Text

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ;; 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒 & 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ natasha wakes you up with a pleasant surprise, your gremlin kids are the life and death of you, tony stark is annoying, marital sexting is pretty tough, and you're homesick for your wife's pussy.

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, some pretty heavy kinks: blowjobs, marital sexting, breeding kink, daddy kink, probably more.

word count ★ 3.1k (feeding yall)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

You slept like the dead.

Or at least you did, on most mornings, oblivious to the waking world in your sweet slumber.

Today was different, though. There was a distinct feeling of pleasantness swimming in your subconscious, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It urged you awake, a certain type of wet heat that insistently tugged and pulled.

It wasn’t until a jolt of arousal shot through you like a nine-millimetre shotgun that you jerked awake with a start.

“Shit!” you gasped, yanking off the blanket from your lower half, to reveal your ethereal wife perpetrating what could only be described as a wet dream.

Natasha’s head was obediently lowered in the midst of sucking your erect shaft, her viridescent gaze trained unto you with a twinkle of mischief. Wandering hands were sheathed under the front of your sweatshirt, painted nails mapping out the expanse of your tensed abdomen.

“Way to wake me up, baby,” you say breathlessly, a hand flying to the back of Natasha’s head in hopes of speeding up your ever-approaching high. You buck your hips once, effectively propelling your hips further forward, guiding your shaft into your wife’s mouth.

Natasha hums mindlessly, palming at your torso like it was second nature. Her mouth moves languidly, relaxed and slow, tongue trailing over the hefty length of your cock in a teasing manner.

Like the devil incarnate, Natasha’s hand glides a broad stroke from your abs to the base of your cock, and starts working her hand in firm strokes. “Fuck,” you groan, a hand twisting into soft locks of your wife’s hair.

The joint stimulation on the head and base of your cock have you barrelling towards a preordained high at a frighteningly fast pace, and the absolutely criminal way Natasha’s head bobs up and down is no help at all.

“Fuck, baby, m’so close,” you gasp, throwing your head back and letting your eyes slide shut. Your big hand guides Natasha’s head with a certain type of tacit power, unwritten but distinct. Natasha feels herself get wet, and in turn eagerly plunges her mouth down with a renewed vigour.

When Natasha lets out a filthy moan from the back of her throat, stifled by the sheer size of your cock in her mouth, pleasure overwhelms your every sense.

You groan, hips snapping up for the entirety of your cock to be buried in Natasha’s warm and velvet throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Mama! Mommy!”

The undeniable sound of little feet scampering across the wooden floorboard and down the stairs, unceremoniously hauls you out of your heaven-like ascension.

Natasha pulls her lips off your cock with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound. “Time to get up, honey,” she says with the arch of her eyebrow, smoothly turning over in practised motion and leaving you hung and sprung.

“Baby,” you whine, pitifully throwing your head back. Your words fall on deaf ears and you grumble and pull up your sweatpants, just in time for the door to swing open and release the incoming wave of chaos.

“MAMA!!” Emilia shrieks, leaping onto the bed with fearsome aggression, her younger twin brother in tow.

Your five-year olds didn’t let you catch any breaks, Emilio roaring into your ear while dragging his toy pterodactyl across your face. “Rawr! Rawr! Wake up, ma!”

You leap up in a haze of bedsheets and screaming kids, all your previous indiscretions quickly faded at the sight of your bundles of joy.

Emilia squeals as you easily hoist her up with one arm, the little girl getting thrown into the air. Emilio receives much of the same treatment, getting dangled in the air by one leg.

“Mommy! Save us!” The boy cries out with a delighted grin and a hearty attempt at hitting your side. You swing them around with fake growls that incite laughter and squeals, steering clear of any sharp corners or wayward objects.

Natasha is more preoccupied with hugging your sleepy ten-year old, and cooing softly into her ear.

Marina is the oldest of your three, quiet and reserved, with brilliance sparkling behind her soft eyes. “Hi, mama,” she greets you with a small smile, and your heart melts a little.

“Hi, darling angel,” you reply with a big grin of your own. “Where’s my morning kiss?”

At the prospect of the feared morning kiss, Emilio yells and wreaks absolute havoc, the toy truck forgotten in favour of escaping your clutches.

“No mama! No kiss!” Emilia protests, the Russian determination behind her set eyes a splitting image of her mother’s. Emilio is long gone, visibly hidden under your bedside table.

You hoist Marina up onto your hip, smiling at the sweet kiss she pecks on your cheek. “It’s mommy’s turn now,” you say easily, sliding up to Natasha with a mischievous grin.

“Ew!” Your little girl giggles, hiding behind her hands as you share a chaste kiss with your wife, one that is far too short for your liking. Either way, the morning kiss routine was a success.

The attention in the crowded room is drawn by a simple clap of Natasha’s hands. She stands arms akimbo, rocking her bed hair, sleep still half-written in her eyes — but the whole look is so endearing that you can’t help but fall in love all over again.

“Okay, kids. Time to get ready for school! Who wants breakfast?”

The cheer that arises from your children is nothing short of pure jubilation. Emilio starts a chant of ‘Frosted Flakes! Frosted Flakes!’ that has them marching in line out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

Natasha laughs, following their trail, but you drag her back expectantly.

With one arm hanging off the top of the doorframe and the other wrapped around her waist, you pull Natasha into that long sought-after kiss.

“Mhm,” you hum contentedly, inhaling her sweet scent. “I love you.”

Natasha slowly slides her hands up your arms, savouring the kiss. She presses her palms to your cheeks, adoration dancing in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

*****

The Frosted Flakes do not end up on the breakfast table, after all, because Natasha reasons that the kids had eaten it for three breakfasts in a row and their teeth would rot and fall off.

Toast and scrambled eggs, courtesy of your little handiwork in the kitchen, is the eventual outcome. Food is food to a bunch of hungry gremlins, either way, and the breakfast gets scarfed down in no time at all.

“You’re gonna go soon?” Natasha asks you in the kitchen, giggling at your teddy-bear patterned apron. You make a non-committal hum against your wife’s chest, wanting to stay in her arms for an eternity.

“Mama, we have to go to school,” Marina calls from the front porch, the door clicking open. “I need help with my shoe!” Emilio cries out, hopping into the kitchen with a singular shoe. “I got my shoes done on my own!” Emilia chimes in proudly, tugging on her backpack straps.

Natasha laughs, stroking your hair affectionately. “No rest for the wicked,” she says. “Be a responsible parent and send Marina to school, then go to work. The twins’ school bus will be here anytime.”

You exhale with a smile, pulling your wife in for a kiss that is a tad too long. Tugging off the pink apron, you’re glad you already changed into your work attire — a collared white shirt rolled up to your elbows, a grey-patterned tie, and matching slacks.

Natasha looks you up and down approvingly, then her eyes glimmer with an incited flame as she straightens your tie. You definitely don’t miss the way her hands glide smoothly across your chest to straighten out the wrinkles, and you resist the fluttering sensation that blooms under her touch.

“What a handsome young woman,” Natasha comments, tip-toeing to peck your cheek. You smile widely, preening under your wife’s attention. “Only for you,” you reply happily. “I’ll be off, then.”

“Mama, let’s go,” Marina probes, head poking into the kitchen. Her eyes soften at the sight of Natasha, proceeding to wave cutely. “Bye, mommy.”

Like little ducks, your three children follow you out of the house, with their miniature backpacks and shoes. Natasha watches adoringly from the porch, blowing kisses to Emilia when she yells one last “Bye, mommy!”.

Your Audi SQ7 peels out the driveway, engine revving. Marina is looking out the window, humming ‘American Pie’ with a little smile. As your home fades away in the rearview mirror, you think that this life was all you’d ever need.

***

“Fury, tell Tony that not sponsoring the coffee machines in my building is frankly, quite rude behaviour,” you comment, sitting next to the aloof man who’s snacking on a packet of dried fruit. Steve steals bits of the snack when Tony’s not looking, much to Fury’s chagrin.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Tony replies hotly, snatching back the piece of fruit in Steve’s hand. “You literally leaked the photo of me in a maid outfit, for the whole world to see. You know how many sleazy men have slid into my DMs since then? Pepper hasn’t let that go!”

“What, are you mad that the public now knows that Pepper’s the one that does the dicking down?” you retort. “And Steve was one of those ‘sleazy men’!”

The accused blonde looks away quickly, suddenly very preoccupied with the tiling of the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve mumbles.

“That’s enough,” Fury admonishes with an unamused look. “The three of you need to get your shit together. Regardless of whether or not Stark is a bottom, I can’t have the CEOs of my powerhouse companies making a bad name. You know how that reflects on me? Stark Industries, SHIELD, L/N-Corp Worldwide Media: The Desolate Downfall of Nick Fury.”

“Is this because I modelled for the gay sex toy shop company? Because that’s just homophobic,” Steve reasons, folding his arms. “And Bucky liked the advert a lot!”

Tony scoffs, making paper aeroplanes with the papers on Fury’s desk. “We literally bring in millions upon millions for you each year. I’m sure that forgives the one time I was high during Y/N’s media conference. The Minister didn’t even notice! He’s like 82, anyways. Close to your age, Fury.”

“And I’m not sorry for calling the Netflix director a bitch on live TV,” you add in. “They’ve got no reason for cancelling all the sapphic shows left and right! My wife and I were invested in Gentleman Jack, okay?”

Fury sighs, the scene before him a spectacle he was no stranger to by now.

You, Tony and Steve were the face of the up-and-coming generation of brilliant minds and creative thinking. He supposed your overwhelming success and proved greatness softened the blow of your discrepancies in maintaining an unblemished professional image.

“Moving on,” Fury continues. “I want to talk about Project Eagle. As you should know from last year’s report……”

Just then, your phone vibrates in your pocket, with a notification from Natasha’s contact.

You, indeed, were hard.

Upon reading Natasha’s last message, you shut your phone off so quickly that Steve turns and raises an eyebrow at you. You clear your throat and shift in your seat, evidently affected.

The heat that surges through your body pays no help in your focus on Fury’s briefing. You can feel the flush creeping on from the back of your neck, spreading down your body and rushing towards the area between your legs.

Natasha, why have you forsaken me? You think helplessly, the noises in the office fading to a low buzz. When your phone vibrates again, your finger clicks on the message before your brain can catch up to you.

The image that Natasha sends you has you choking on absolutely nothing, coughing up air like a woman possessed.

Lacy red lingerie displaying thick thighs and a soft tummy should not be this breathtaking, but Natasha pulls it off anyway.

Filthy images flit into your mind uncontrollably, searing images like a broken record player. Your dick has a mind of its own, pressing hot and tight against the seam of your pants.

“L/N,” Fury announces, voice booming and hauling you out of your trance. “What seems to be the issue?”

In the background, Steve and Tony giggle like schoolgirls, knowing all too well what had occurred. You clear your throat again, shoving your phone into your pocket, hopelessly trying to erase the blessed image of your wife from your memory, just for a moment longer.

“No issues here,” you say with a forced smile, fighting demons with your rock-hard erection you’re desperately trying to cover with a report file. “I’m all dandy, sir.”

“Right,” Fury says disbelievingly, his good eye flickering downwards for a fraction of a second. Embarrassment eats you up whole.

“Let’s hope your attention span is just as ‘dandy’.”

***

“Natty,” you pant, with your wife pinned under you, hot and tight inside of her.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you grunt, punctuating each word with a firm thrust of your hips. “Made me so fucking hard at work.”

Following your incident in Fury’s office, you had exhausted every fibre of your willpower not to lock yourself in a bathroom stall and jerk off like a nymphomaniac.

After a gruelling day of work and coming back to a house of sleeping children, you had wasted no time in claiming your stake.

“I’ve been blue balled for twelve hours,” you groan into Natasha’s neck, mouthing at the flushed skin with fervour. “Spare me some sympathy, darling.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” your wife teases, tracing a feather-light hand over your tensed back muscles and clutching at the back of your neck. “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you growl, scraping your sharp teeth over her collarbone, leaving violet imprints at a respectable-enough level. You roll your hips into Natasha’s, drawing relentless waves of pleasure and a rocking motion that has her throwing her head back.

Natasha’s erratic breathing and badly-disguised moans are music to your ears, a sweet symphony you’d been missing all day. You groan as her velvet walls clench tight around you, hot and wet and all-encompassing.

“You feel amazing,” you pant, the clefted tip of your shaft bumping against her cervix with how deep you nest inside of her.

A high-pitched whine sounds from the back of Natasha’s throat, as her legs spasm in the air. “Wanna fuck you senseless, please,” you groan.

“Do it,” she challenges breathily. You lean forward, manhandling her deliciously thick thighs, pressing your wife’s knees to her head.

The arousal that builds in your lower stomach is pure white heat, fueled by the breathless cries of your wife under you.

“Fuck,” you cry out, reaching new spots you haven’t before. You surge forth, an unstoppable train, drilling your shaft into Natasha’s dripping cunt like it was your only reason for living. Because maybe it was, as you transcend earthly boundaries with her, only her.

Subconsciously, your hands fly to Natasha’s hefty tits, grabbing the shaking mounds. “Y’so pretty, babygirl,” you say, half-drunkenly, high of the white-hot pleasure that Natasha draws out of you.

She’s untouchable heaven, silky moans and raspy cries, a soft tummy with rolls that you greedily grasp in your hands.

“Daddy,” Natasha cries, crescent nails scratching down your arms, her suspended legs shaking in the air. The airy lilt of your title makes you leak. “Ugh, fuck,” you grunt, pounding her into the bedframe, sweaty and slick.

“Let me come inside, please?” you practically beg, wide eyes transfixed at the area your shaft meets her cunt. Natasha whines breathlessly, a hand moving to clasp at the sheets. “Yeah, I-I’m on the pill.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before pinning Natasha down with spread hands. You shift on the bed as you mount her, skin-to-skin with your shaft fully-lodged inside of your wife.

Natasha gives you this dizzy look, glazed-over eyes portraying complete submission.

Then you start moving again, and the world explodes in your hands.

“Oh, fuckkk,” you groan, shoving your fingers into Natasha’s mouth to stop her pleasured screams from waking up the whole house.

The speed at which you drive your hips into Natasha’s is downright sinful, smearing slick all over her rounded ass, dripping onto the bed.

You’re transfixed, as your wife’s big mounds bounce in time with your thrusts, making you drool with want. An animalistic growl leaves your throat as you push yourself in, even deeper than before, making Natasha arch above the bed with a muffled cry.

Just like that, with you buried inside Natasha, do you fall apart by the seams, an unwinding intricate tarp.

Your load gets buried deep inside Natasha’s womb, and you continue with shallow thrusts. “Mhmn,” Natasha moans, following soon after, spurts of slick coating your cock in waves of overarching pleasure.

“Babydoll,” you groan mindlessly, palming at her sides. You come so heavily that it flows out of Natasha, a dribble of thick white fluid, and your wife fingers it back in so desperately that you could get hard all over again.

You collapse unceremoniously onto the bed next to Natasha. “I want more kids,” you state. You grope your wife’s tummy like it would conjure new life, an expectant look on your face.

“Three is enough,” Natasha says breathlessly, skin shining with a sheen of fresh sweat. She locks eyes with you, hair tousled and lips curled into an adoring smile.

“Okay, fine,” you mutter your acquiescence, both of you knowing that statement wouldn’t hold up for long. “...Give me a minute, then I’ll clean up. You need some water, baby?”

Natasha lets out a pleased hum, snuggling into your chest.

She kisses your left boob affectionately, as you groan with sensitivity, playfully swatting at her arm. “No need. Just want you.”

“You have me,” you respond softly, running a hand through the brown locks of your wife’s hair, flattening it out with gentle strokes. “You always will.”

so that's chapter one of 'home is where the heart is!' i personally choose to believe pepper straps tony down every night. what are your thought on the kids?? mommy!nat?? butch!reader?? the incorporation of the texts?? there's so much feedback i require tbh

reblog or no more milf!nat

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

#⋆⭒˚｡★ home is where the heart is #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha x reader smut #sub natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #butch4femme #butch reader #femme4butch

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honeylullaby · 2 months ago

Text

“I’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by darling anon 🫶🏽 / You and Declan butt heads, and then some…

Set just after the pageant, messed with the timeline a lil i think but I managed to work the punch in another way <3

18+ FANFIC / SMUT GALORE, angsty & lots of swearing. Fairly long and very HEAVY smut, sorry x Declan you horny bastard, we love you. Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see in the ask box 💋

“I can’t just stop working for Corinium, Declan. You cannot just waltz into my life and expect me to give everything up for you!” You shout, feeling rage seep through your veins. Declan and Rupert have been cooking up a ridiculous idea within an hour, desperate to overthrow Baddingham’s Machiavellian reign of television. “They have my balls in a fuckin’ vice, my love,”

“No, they HAVEN’T! You have thrown a ridiculous temper tantrum, on television, because you are so determined to get your own way because you’re a selfish, stubborn bastard.” You interject, slamming your reddened palms on the dinner table, face contorting in fury. “They want me to sell my fuckin’ soul, babe. To sit and judge these fuckin’ superficial pageants whilst that cunt Vereker gets MY spot on my fuckin’ show.” The Irishman bellows, leaning across the table and pointing his finger dangerously close to your face. Declan O’Hara is fucking scary when he’s angry, but my God is he sexy.

Rupert leans against the counter top, remaining silent in embarrassment. It was certainly better for everyone that way. Steaming with rage, you sit back in your seat, stray hairs sticking to the beading sweat on your forehead. “You can’t keep behaving like this, Declan. Like a fucking child.” You tut, avoiding eye contact with him. Declan frustratedly rakes a hand through his slicked hair before pouring himself an intoxicatingly large unit of whiskey. “I’m sure you can coax Tony into some amicable solution. It’s blatant he wants to fuck you. He would do anything for someone willing to open their legs for him.” Rupert pipes up and gestures towards you, cigarette smoke creating an ashy veil across his face. An excruciating silence ensued. Your eyes widened in absolute horror — Declan would certainly not take kindly to this joke. Rupert should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“You fucking what?” Declan asked him, walking towards him slowly, eyes frenzied with wrath. “Calm down, Declan, it was just a joke.” Rupert chuckled, offering his hands up in defeat. “What did ya’ fuckin’ say?” Declan asked again, containing to walk towards him until they were nose-to-nose. Another incredibly painful silence— even Rupert didn’t dare speak. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to speak but Declan swung at him, landing a brutal punch with a wet smack. “DECLAN.” You bellow, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling him towards you. “Get out, Rupert. I’m so sorry, but just go home.” You shake your hands frantically as Rupert pulls himself from the floor and ushers himself out, clutching his face in agony.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” You scream, voice croaking under the pressure. You push Declan away from you as soon as you hear the front door click. “Ya’ t’ink I’m gonna let him talk about ‘ya like ‘dat? Talk about ‘ya spreadin’ ya’ legs for tha’ CUNT Tony?” Declan matches your enraged tone, pacing around the kitchen table but maintaining eye contact with you. You couldn’t reply to this. He was wildly protective of you — often infuriatingly so, but he could barely stand to see another man so much as look at you. Rupert’s joke was way too far.

“My job is turnin’ me into a fuckin’ laughin’ stock, you t’ink I’m a joke and you’re wavin’ your fuckin’ arse around in front of Tony.” He howled again, enraging himself with his own words. “Oh, fuck off Declan.” You spit, pushing yourself out of your chair and beginning to abandon the kitchen. “Don’t walk away from me.” He tuts, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You scream and the words can barely leave your mouth — a pathetic mixture of anger and despair. “I am fucking sick of you!” You immediately regret the words as Declan’s top lip curls in vexation. Oh fuck.

•

He hurtles towards you, pushing you towards the wall and almost taking you off of your feet. You close an eye, internally preparing yourself for the crescendo of noise he is about to create. Instead, he collides his lips onto yours, grunting in annoyance as his tongue pushes his way into your mouth. Feeling yourself melt under his touch, Declan’s hand rides under your blouse, ripping it off from the inside and exposing your bare chest — perky breasts wobbling with the force and nipples hard from arousal. The bristles of his moustache send a quiver down your spine as he kisses down your chest before taking your left nipple into his mouth: swirling around the pink bud and sucking it softly. A stifled whimper escapes your lift as you lift your hand to his trousers, rubbing across his hardening bulge.

“Bend over.” Declan demands, pulling away from you and pushing you gently towards the dining table. Hesitantly, you do as you’re told and bend over the table, skirt riding up your thighs. Not that it matters too much, as it was promptly yanked down, exposing your bare arse to the man that owned it. Running his rough hand across the right cheek, Declan smacked it firmly, the harsh noise of skin on skin reverberating across the room. “Ya’ do know I’m gonna have ta’ punish ya’.” He growled, readying his hand for another firm smack. “Mhm hmm.” You whisper, nodding your head, consenting softly. Another unyielding smack made you yelp with aching pressure — a reddened hand print beginning to take form. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, lowering himself to your level and biting firmly into your arse, pleasure taking control of his entire conscience. You keep your eyes firmly pressed shut, awaiting the next smack. Instead, you chomp down on your lip as you hear Declan’s zipper, and the subsequent sound of his trousers dropping to the ground.

“Do ya’ want it?” The Irishman questioned, teasing your slick entrance with the head of his painfully erect cock. You could feel yourself practically dripping as he placed a firm hand onto your waist. “Yes…” You breathlessly moan, pushing yourself towards him, aching to feel his girth inside you. “Yes, what?” He growled. “Yes… Daddy.” You whimper once more, desperation overtaking you.

“Good girl.” Declan praised, and pushed the full length of his cock into you, but thrusted slowly in and out. “Oh, fuck.” You wail, as the walls of your vagina grip him like a vice, already aching with the girth of his dick. “Ya’ like that? Do I feel good stretchin’ ya’ out?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and increasing his tempo with every wet smack of your arse against his pelvis. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, teeth firmly planted into your bottom lip, mind fuzzy — you must definitely cannot muster a reply. “Tell me, girl. Tell me how good I feel inside ya’.” He asks again, hand reaching under to stroke your clit, coaxing you even closer to orgasm. Declan lolled his head back, pumping harder inside you as his fingers worked their rugged magic. “So fucking good, Daddy.” You manage to muster a reply.

“Ya’ so fuckin’ wet. Wrapped around my cock. Look at ya’ bouncin’ on my dick like a good fuckin’ whore.” Your lover groaned under your heat as he pounded into you, but the tension twisting inside your stomach was too much to bare. “Dec..Declan, I’m gonna…” You begin, but you feel him pull out in preparation.

The repetitive pounding of his enlarged cock on your g-spot left you in a dazed mess as you squirted onto the kitchen floor, legs trembling insanely throughout your orgasm. Declan watched the obscene mess he’d created with a terrible smirk on his face, full of adoration. “Good girl,” He affirmed again, “Look at the mess you’ve made for Daddy. Fuckin’ good girl.” He thrusted into you again, tempo increasing, hungry for his own release. “Are ya’ gonna let me cum inside ya?’ He asked, but he needn’t. You were already pleading with him to fill you with his seed. You needed to feel his hot, sweet cum inside of you.

“Please. I need it, Daddy. Please fill me up.” You begged, feeling Declan’s cock twitching inside you. The gratifying groans leaving his mouth prompted you to reach under your legs and stroke his cum-filled balls, luring him to ecstasy. “Fuck. Get ready, princess. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bracing yourself to feel his warmth inside you, you kept your hands wrapped round his balls whilst pushing your arse into him, goading him to go faster. Spurts of hot cum covered the walls of your pussy, each rope accompanied with a pleasurable groan — absolute music to your ears. “Ahh, fuck.” Declan murmured, pulling his cock from your pussy and pausing for a moment to watch a droplet of his seed drip from your walls.

“Well done, my girl. You’ve fuckin’ milked me dry.” He chuckled to himself, slapping your arse once more playfully and huffing to himself.

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #declan o hara #declan o’hara #declan i fancy u <3 #my own dreadful writing #aidan turner #rivals disney #sinful soz

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lostalioth · 2 months ago

Text

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

→ premise: you knew steve loved when you called him sir, how the honorific rolled off your tongue and lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to call him sir in a mocking tone on a mission.

→ pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, sir kink, edging, fingering, mention of spanking, nicknames [princess, little one]

→ a/n: kinktober 16

Steve spent the whole ride back from the mission keeping a death grip on your thigh and facing forward with a deadpan stare. He wasn't per say mad at you but you knew you were in for it when you made it back to the base.

You had called him sir in a tone dripping with sarcasm and an eye roll when he gave you an order during the mission. The honorific wasn't new to you or Steve, it was something you learned about your boyfriend in the bedroom, he loved it when you called him sir. It wasn't a name he was called when he was a leader everyone just always called him cap.

So to hear it roll off your tongue in the middle of a mission in an almost mocking manner has his insides turning, cause it still sent that throb down through his cock.

He wasn't as mad that you said it in front of the others as he was with the way you said it. Yes because of the tone you got a laugh out of Tony in response but Steve didn't find it as amusing.

And that was how you ended up spread out on Steve’s bed, your thighs spread to accommodate your boyfriend's large frame between them. A stinging pain still lingering on your ass cheeks from the beginning half of your punishment, his rough palm. The latter half of your punishment was being relentlessly edged, Steve not allowing you to come no matter how many times you apologize sweetly and desperately. His long fingers were currently buried deep inside you curling upwards to hit that blissful spot deep inside you. That spot that has you squirming and crying out for release when he pulls them back right as your body tenses up and your orgasm is building, making you whine out at the loss of pleasure.

“Sir… pleasee ive been s’good i just need to cum, i promise i wont do it again” you whimper out, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers and fuck yourself on them or get him to move them. “See now i don't think you have, little one” he lightly shakes his head before he grabs ahold of your hip with his free hand. His fingers slowly pull out further making you let out a pathetic whine thinking he was stopping all together. But before you can protest or beg him not to, his fingers plunge inside you in a sharp thrust that has your head spinning. “Ahh~ Sir…pleasee m’gonna cum, wanna cum s’bad” you whine and mumble out, the hour or so of edging that has been going on has begun to make an ache settle in your core and not the good kind.

His fingers curl up again as they pound into you making your vision go blurry, your head spinning as your orgasm builds, growing more and more getting ready to crash into you. The sound of his chuckle rings in your ears and as fast as he pushes them in, Steve pulls his fingers back, not out but they stop their asslut of your g-spot. Your climax comes crashing down instead of over you, the building feelings dissipating in your stomach, your hips bucking and squirming.

“Sirrr pleasee it hurtss, neeed to cum” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut in slight pain as well as frustration.

”You wanted to be a little brat during the mission princess, this is all on you” he explains as his fingers slowly begin moving again though the switch in pace only has small gasps leaving your lips, your orgasm still far far away.

“I'm not done with you just yet, you gotta deal with the consequences to your actions little one” he cooed, leaning down to leave a small peck to your mouth before his free hands rubbed across your thighs that were starting to burn from being spread so wide for so long.

Steve had a long night planned ahead for you, though he did intend on letting you cum soon. He wouldn't be done even after that with you though, he was extremely worked up the entire ride back home. That three letter honorific does something to him he can't explain and he never wanted to hear you say it on a mission again. It's way too hard for him to keep his hands to himself when you do.

→ a/n: this is short, not proofread and kinda shit as im trying to rush to get back on track so maybe ill finish kinktober this year, i have hopefully one more post to do today, then just the last day which will either be posted on halloween or after after if im busy.

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saphiccarma · 5 months ago

Text

Four Times Natasha carries you and one time you asked.

Summary - Natasha liked to flex by picking you up, however you don't often enjoy it.

Words: 3K

Warnings - Maybe a little sexual implications, but not really. Nightmares.

You inhaled a sharp breath, smoke filling your lungs as you ran through the building. Damn Hydra. Damn bombs. Heat burned on the walls around you, searing into your skin and bringing a hot flush to your face. Your legs burned as you searched for your team. Hand coming up to your com, you tried to get contact with any of them. All that came was static.

A piece of wood fell down in front of you, a rafter snapped in half by the flames. You jumped back, searching around for another exit. The fire pushed behind you and from the right, engulfing everything in its path. You glanced at the left, spying a window that was still shut. That would do.

The fire crept closer as you fiddled with the latch on the door. Your hands slipped several times, shaking with anxiety. Eventually, you managed to still your fingers enough to slide the lock and push the window up. Your back burned, the fire pushing ever closer.

Cautiously, you glanced at the window, gauging the drop. It was a good ten feet, and yet it was your only option. If only you had a suit like Tony.

Placing one foot on the ledge, and ducking your head underneath, you balanced precariously on the ledge. You took a deep breath, smoke filling your lungs once more, and shook out your hand that wasn't desperately clutching the edge. Slowly, you placed both hands on the ledge and lowered your legs and body down. It would lessen the height you would have to fall. The fire started lapping at your fingertips. You released the edge.

The impact shook you as you landed and dived into a roll, your shoulders aching from the force. You winced, your ankles burning and right shin absolutely covered in stinging pain, like needles piercing you through the bone.

A muffled cry escaped your mouth as your eyes watered. Smoke drifted into the sky above you as it escaped through the window you left open, the fire had mostly swallowed the building whole by now.

Hydra had sent the Avengers on a wild goose chase, leaving trails of evidence to a building in the middle of no where. You, Steve and Natasha were sent to investigate, and when you were sweeping the building, a small bomb was set off downstairs, igniting a fire that trapped you in the upper floor.

Natasha rounded the corner, having heard you hit the ground. She rushed over to you, kneeling next to you and gently taking you face into her hands - her gentle, calloused, hands. She examined your face, taking in the layer of soot that coated you, and your flushed cheeks that were slightly visible. With a soft look in her eyes, she placed a tender kiss on your lips.

"Did you jump?" she asked, her tone conveying frustration.

"Yeah," you mumbled, afraid she was upset at you.

Natasha muttered something in Russian, scooting towards your legs to carefully examine them. Nothing appeared wrong with them, but when she gently tried to move your right leg, you winced and flinched away. She pursed her lips, staring at your legs contemplatively,

You looked around, noticing that Steve wasn't around, "Where's Steve?"

Looking up Natasha met your eyes once more, "He's getting the jet."

You nodded, before firmly pressing your palms into the ground. Before you could push upwards to try and stand, Natasha shoved you down.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, tone just slightly angry at you now.

"Standing." you answered bluntly.

Natasha shook her head firmly, red hair brushing against her cheeks and wiping away some of the soot that coated them. You looked at her curiously as she moved to a crouching position.

"What are you doing?" you repeated her earlier question.

She didn't answer, but a small smirk crossed her lips as she placed an arm underneath you knees and another to support your back. In one smooth movement, she lifted you up. A shriek escaped your mouth as you struggled.

"Stop struggling," she ordered, "I'm going to drop you."

"Good," you glared up at her, "I can walk."

Natasha scoffed as she started walking away from the burning building, "No you cannot."

You pouted, but nestled your head onto her shoulder. A smirk formed on you mouth as you got an idea. Leaning in a little bit, you pressed a kiss to Natasha's neck. She sucked in a sharp breath, but kept her gaze straight ahead. Smiling to yourself, you gently bit at the same spot, before placing a soft kiss there.

Natasha glared down at you, her emerald eyes containing a silent warning. You grinned up at her innocently.

"Stop that," she adjusted you in her arms, "Wait 'till we get home."

There was a certain glint in her eyes when she said that and you felt a hot blush cross your cheeks, causing a soft laugh to rumble in her chest.

^______________________^

You sat on the couch, gently munching on some popcorn. Natasha's arm sat around your shoulders, holding you close as you rested on the spot between her jaw and collarbone. A movie played on the large screen TV, a horror movie. Damn Natasha.

The two of you had gotten into a playful argument earlier. It started with you talking with Bucky about movies, before he made a teasing remark about your jumping habit during scary movies. You scoffed, refuting the statement. Natasha chose that moment to chime in, her shirt hanging off her shoulder from when she just woke up, and said you really were scared. With a soft blush you denied the statement.

Hence your current predicament as you sat on the couch in Natasha's floor. Her head turned, a kiss pressed onto the top of your head.

"You scared yet, Dekta?" she asked, her hot breath fanning against your face.

"No," you mumbled.

And yet your body pressed further into her as suspense build and the music increased. Your hand fell out of the popcorn bowl and was now tightly clutching the fluffy blanket draped across the two of you.

"Are you sure?" she questioned again, and you could feel her eyes burning into the top of your head.

"Y-yeah."

The main character rounded the corner. The music went silent as the killer popped around the corner, knife in hand. The main character screamed as you jumped, a full body flinched. Your face burned as you heard Natasha's amused laugh.

She pressed another kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer, "You sure you're not scared?"

You pouted, a soft whine escaping your lips.

Another laugh escaped her, "Come here, dekta." She pulled you into her lap, securing her arms around you and pulling you against her chest.

"Hey!" You protested, despite the fact that you loved it, "I'm not a baby."

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, unconvinced.

"I'm not scared," you muttered.

Natasha ignored you, instead just pulling you closer into her chest as she hummed in content. The movie continued to play, and wrapped in Natasha's protective, if not teasing, embrace, you fell asleep. Natasha sighed lovingly and picked you up bridal style. Even asleep, you sighed happily and snuggled into her chest as she carried you to your room.

^______________________^

To celebrate his birthday, Tony decided to throw a party. He ordered everyone to show up and dress nice, with a particular glare towards you as you tended to dress casual to nice events. It wasn't your fault fancy clothes were uncomfortable.

However, this time as you moved to pull on your favorite pair of tight jeans, Natasha sauntered into your room, a dress in hand. Her green eyes roamed over you, a spark of interest in them. A smirk formed on her face as she walked over to you - still wearing nothing but undergarments.

"As much as I like seeing like this," she began, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, "I brought you some clothes."

You blushed at her words, a fire creeping up your neck and the tips of your ears. A beautiful laugh came from Natasha as she pushed a dress to your front.

"Put it on."

You scowled, glaring down at her. You were just a bit taller than Natasha. She looked back up at you with an expected eyebrow, perfectly manicured as always. When she first walked in, you were too flustered by your near naked state to notice her attire.

She wore a white blouse with puffy sleeves that silver buttons going down the center. Her blouse was tucked into a pair of flowy black dress pants. The black and white outfit brought out her red lipstick, not too bright and yet stunning all the same, and her emerald eyes that always seemed to sparkle.

Once again, Natasha smirked at you, giving you a small kiss before pushing you a little, "Go get dressed."

Scowling, you marched towards the bathroom, grasping the dress in your hand. You shut the door with a final glare at Natasha, who was still smirking at you. For a moment, you fumbled to get the dress on, but once you did, you saw why Natasha chose this dress.

It was a dress that fell just to your shins, with a slit going nearly to the top of your right thigh. While you normally thought red didn't work on you, this dress did. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if this dress truly worked on you. Natasha was normally the one who wore dresses and dressed up in this relationship, but she seemed to want to swap it around for once. With a deep sigh, you exited the bathroom.

Natahsa grinned, a radiant smile that you loved.

"You look beautiful," she grinned, taking your hand and dragging you towards the party.

That was how you ended up where you were now, in a drinking contest with Bucky. It was a stupid decision, you knew that, and based on the way Natasha rolled her eyes affectionately, she thought so too. But Tony bet you twenty bucks, so you really had no choice.

Bucky had downed at least ten drinks by now, and you had probably done the same. Your head swam and your words were slurred. As you downed a shot, you felt a an arm on your shoulder.

"I have a girlfriend," you slurred, turning to attempt to glare at the person.

The woman, with bright red hair and sparkling emerald eyes smiled softly at you, "I am your girlfriend."

You gasped, really?? She was the most stunning woman ever.

"Really?" you squealed, "You're so pretty." The last word was drawn out was you fell into her arms to make a sloppy hug.

She laughed, her chest rumbling as she held you up.

"Let's get you to bed."

"Noo," you whined, trying to shove away from her, but she held you tight, "I'm busy."

She shook her head with amusement but said nothing. Rather she scooped you up bridal style, placing a small kiss to your forehead.

"Goodnight Bucky."

"Night, Natasha."

The super soldier wasn't nearly as wasted as you. You squirmed in Natasha's hold with a whine. She shushed you, pulling you closer with orders to stop squirming. Pouting, you snuggled into her chest with a sigh of content. She was cozy.

"You're cozy," you mumbled.

Her chest shook as she laughed softly, smiling down on you as she stepped into the elevator.

You looked up at her, taking in her perfect cheekbones, the way her lips curved into a soft smile. Her red hair was wavy and shoulder length, touching the top of your head. Green eyes, the color of a forest, which had always shone when she smiled, stared down at you with adoration. She looked like an angel.

"You're so pretty," you offered her a toothy grin, "You're like an angel."

She laughed again, placing a soft kiss to your head, "Let's get you to bed."

^______________________^

You made sure to keep your footsteps soft as you crept towards your prey. The hallways were dark as you hefted your weapon, careful to keep your breathing even. There were no comns on this mission, leaving without backup for when you inevitably needed it.

Your heart thudded in her chest as you rounded the corner, taking in the dim room. Above you, the light was turned all the way down, casting a faint light as a show played quietly on the TV - forgotten for the sake of the mission.

Looking around, you searched for your prey. Your prey was your hunter all bundled into one.

A shriek escaped you as a pillow came into contact with your head. You ran with the motion, spinning around and swinging your own pillow at Natasha. The widow ducked. She smirked up at you and you ran, rounding the couch before frantically facing her.

The two of you did the classic dance around the couch. With her, approaching one side, and you moving in the opposite direction.

Natasha smirked, "Apologize." She ordered.

You gulped, brushing stray hair out of your eyes. Recently, she had been searching for her favorite hoodie, and when it turned out to be in your closet after you denied having it, Natasha was furious.

"I didn't know it was in my closet!" That was the closest you would get to pleading for mercy, but you would never apologize.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at you. It took you a moment to realize what she was thinking, and by the time you did, it was too late. She bolted around the couch, pouncing on you and tackling you to the floor. You fell with a thump, and she pinned you down.

You struggled, which in hindsight was useless, she was always stronger than you. Your wrists were pinned above your head and her legs were sat on either side of your waist. A faint blush appeared on your cheeks, only deepening her smirk.

"Apologize," she demanded once more.

Even though you knew you had lost, you shook your head. Natasha's grin should have been warning enough, but she dug her fingers into your side. Giggling, you tried to shove her hand away. She tickled your sides relentlessly, not letting up even as you begged for her to stop.

"Nat please!" you gasped, grasping at her wrists.

"Apologize." She paused for a moment, staring at you expectantly.

You pouted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. Natasha heaved a sigh, feigning annoyance, before digging her fingers into your sides once more. You squirmed, giggling.

"I'm sorry!" you shrieked between laughs, "Sorry!"

Natasha stopped, satisfied. She climbed off you after giving you a kiss. Holding her hand out to help you up, Natasha grinned victoriously.

"Come on," she said, "We have to get ready for dinner with Wanda and Vision."

You groaned dramatically, placing a hand on your chest and pretending to die.

"No," you moaned, "Just leave me here! I'm too weak to go on."

Natasha scoffed, "Get up."

You didn't respond, shutting your eyes and sticking your tongue out in a dramatic imitation of death. Then suddenly, you felt hands under your armpits and your eyes shot open. Natasha hefted you over her shoulder, ignoring your squirming and smacked your ass gently.

You shrieked, but giggled, nonetheless.

^______________________^

Natasha had nightmares; it was hard not to. While she had hers, you also had yours. Natasha tended to be silent, back rigid and muscles tense during her nightmares. You, however, fought. Thrashing and sometimes screaming.

Natasha was woken up by a solid thump on her back.

"Baby?" she whispered, turning around with bleary eyes.

Your legs were thrashing about as the blanket fell to the floor, sweat coating your face and dripping down your neck. Natasha took a sharp breath.

"Y/N," she said, harshly - it was the only way to get you to wake up, "Y/N"

Your fist flew out, nearly hitting her in the face. Carefully thinking about her movements, Natasha jumped to pin your arms down, her heart breaking when you whimpered and cowered away. She held your arms down on the mattress so you couldn't hit her and avoided your legs flailing about. She blew some air in your face, and for some reason that worked. It always worked for some weird reason.

Eyes snapping open, you jerked away from Natasha, scuttling towards the head of the bed to curl into a ball. Your breaths were coming in heavy, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and keep you safe, but she didn't know if you wanted that.

Frantically, you looked around the room, hands shaking. After a moment your eyes landed on her. A sob burst from your throat, and you launched yourself towards her, clinging to her and sobbing. You buried your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms around her. Natasha smoothed down your hair, which had gotten wild during your nightmare. She pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

"You're okay!" you sobbed, breaths sharp and uneven, "You- you were dead! I saw it and I-"

"Hey," Natasha cut you off, planting another kiss on your head, "Look at me."

She cupped your face with her hands, pulling you away and forcing you to look at her. Your eyes were puffy, and your nose was red. You sniffled, leaning into her touch with a sigh.

"I'm okay," she muttered, tracing your cheekbones with her thumbs, "I'm okay and it was dream."

You sniffled once more, "Can you make me hot cocoa?"

Her heart broke at your fragile tone and how little you sounded.

"Of course."

Natasha got up to move, ready to set you down on the bed, but you clung tighter to her. Letting out a soft laugh Natasha looked down at you.

"You have to let me go, baby," she said softly.

"Carry me?" You pouted out your lower lip and peered up at her with wide, teary eyes.

Natasha sighed but picked you up as you wrapped your legs around her waist. She carried you to the kitchen on the floor.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too."

#natasha romanoff x reader #female reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you

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flowersforbucky · 7 months ago

Text

cesium

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 700 ish

just a nasty little blurb!! this is pure SMUT, porn with very little plot, metal arm hyperfixation, minors do not interact, reader is afab, no use of y/n, 18+ only

cesium: the softest metal

“You can touch me,” you whisper against his mouth. “I want you to touch me. You won't hurt me.”

Your lips ghost over his, one hand cradling his jawline in your palm and the other pulling his metal hand to your hip.

“This doesn’t have to be a weapon. This can be used for good," your lips trail against the stubble on his chin. "For pleasure."

Finger by finger, he adds the slightest bit of pressure to the soft skin of your waist.

Testing the waters. Trying to convince himself that your words really could be true - that his touch could bring pleasure and not pain.

That he could possibly be anything softer than what they made him.

He waits for the moment that you would flinch away, realization dawning on you that the hand touching you is the same hand that dozens of people had lost their lives by. Realization that it was the same hand that had strangled the life out of Tony Stark’s parents and pulled the trigger on Nick Fury. Realization that it had destroyed lives - lives of people that you love.

But that moment doesn't come. Every one of your actions is reassurance that you want him, from the way that you pepper kisses down his neck and across his collarbones, to the way that you take his metal hand and place it on your lace covered breast.

Your tongue sweeping along his bottom lip is his undoing. One second he's all restraint and hesitation, the next he's using his flesh hand to tip your head back, giving him the perfect angle to latch his mouth onto yours.

He starts softly, kneading you through your bra as you release a sweet moan into his mouth. Your sounds encourage him, giving him enough courage to pull the restrictive fabric of your bra down so that he can take your nipple between two of the cold metal digits.

You break the kiss - already lightheaded due to a combination of the balmy air of the ramshackle Motel 6 room and the euphoric smell of vetiver and sandalwood on his skin - giving him the opportunity to latch his velvet soft lips to the pulse point on your throat.

His hands trail downwards, one hand cupping your sex and one popping the button to your jeans as you pull the two of you to the creaky motel mattress.

"Lay on your back."

There's a newfound confidence in his instruction that sends a rush to your core as you do as you're told.

He hovers over you, icy hand dipping into your panties where his fingers stroke your soaked cunt. He slips a single finger into you with ease - you grind against his hand and he knows you want more.

You help him shimmy you out of your pants, his lips immediately trailing open mouth, sloppy kisses across your thighs before finding his way to your center.

He adds a second finger, stretching you open with a scissoring motion. His flesh hand comes up to cup your breast that is still spilling out of your bra and you grind yourself against his mouth and fingers, chasing your release.

“Come on my fingers,” he commands lowly, the vibration of his voice against your sensitive flesh sending you over the edge.

A tight warmth coils inside you, starting in your belly and spreading throughout your whole being. You clench around him, coming undone. He fucks you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers continuing to perform sinful ministrations until you're limp beneath him.

Still seeing stars, you pull his metal hand to your mouth, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking your juices clean off.

“See," you pant. He's staring down at you, pupils lust blown. There's a hint of something in his expression that you can't quite decipher in your post orgasm haze, but you think it might be pride. "Told you so," you pull him down to you, his face an inch away from yours. "Are you gonna let me make you feel as good as you made me feel?"

He lets out a low chuckle, brushing a stray hair from your sweat-slicked forehead.

"Sweetheart, trust me, that was as good for me as it was for you."

disclaimer: i wrote and posted this foreverrr ago, deleted it sometime later because i ended up hating it, recently stumbled across it on my a03 account and decided to rewrite it so that i like it again! soooo here ya go 🤭

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated, it's been a long time since i've posted any writing on here! 🖤

my masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine

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marvelfilth · 11 months ago

Text

Sweet dreams (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: dubcon, smut, fingering, somnophilia, praise, restraints, blindfold

Masterlist

You shift on the bed, slowly stirring into consciousness, your mind still heavy with sleep. You curl deeper into the pillow, desperately chasing some remnants of sleep.

There was a party at the Avengers tower last night - one of Tony's best, some might say - and it left you pleasantly buzzed and bone tired. Natasha made you stay in her room, choosing to spend the night with her girlfriend, right across the hall. You couldn't say no even if you wanted to - making it all the way to the other side of the city to your own apartment sounded like the worst thing last night, and the promise of sleeping in Natasha’s bed, in her clothes made you giddy enough to stay. Even if she spent the night in the arms of another. Even if you have feelings for the said another.

God, you're such a mess, falling in love with two of the most unapproachable women.

You have no idea what time it is - your sleeping mask prevents you from seeing anything and you're glad for that. You would've been up already with the sun shining right in your face.

You sigh deeply, and float back into unconsciousness, dreaming of soft touches and gentle hands, of warm breath over your neck and wet kisses pressed to your shoulders. Your hips move, buckling back in search of friction, your heat leaking with arousal. You whine in your sleep, wishing for the touches to move lower, to sink into your warmth and make you come undone.

And then there's a bite. A gentle nib, teeth scraping against the slope of your neck, and you realize with a start - you're fully awake, and the warmth on your hip is still there, wet lips are still on your shoulders, and oh…

There's another pair of hands.

You tremble, squeezing your hips tight, and inhale deeply. Soft hair tickles your face and you try to move, but strong arms keep you in place from both sides, two bodies trapping you in place.

Before you can even think about speaking, fingers trail down your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Another hand tugs your shirt up, revealing your underwear. You know it's drenched, but you still try to hide it, wriggling your body to the side.

A husky chuckle makes its way to your ears, teasing your neck with a hot gust of breath.

Natasha.

You moan, your legs spreading on their own violation.

“Good girl,” she husks, her palm settling on your lower stomach possessively.

Another voice hums, and then someone cups your breast under your shirt, tracing circles over your nipple before pinching it, sending sparks down your body right to your aching clit. You whine, reaching to tug off your mask, but you're stopped. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your breasts, your hands near the headboard bind by it.

“Don't move.”

Wanda.

You cry out pathetically, almost coming from the sound of her voice. Hot mouth leaves your breasts wet with spit, lips leave purple bruises on the tender skin.

“Touch me, please,” you moan, arching off the bed. “Please.”

Another husky chuckle, another pinch to your nipple and then… a finger slides over your clit, then moves to the side of your panties, up and down, up and down, and you whine, trying to grind against her hand. An arm wraps across your stomach, keeping you in place. Someone - Wanda - burrows her face into the crook of your neck, marking.

Natasha leans over you, and finally, finally, plunges three fingers inside, and, oh God, you have no time to adjust because Natasha thrusts deep and fast, curling her fingers. You moan, trapped in place by two of the most beautiful women, your pussy swallowing Natasha's fingers, the wet sounds making you blush.

You can feel your wetness dripping to leave a stain on Natasha's bed.

You pant, orgams approaching. Wanda slides her hand off your stomach to play with your clit, circling it rapidly, her breath hot on your neck, her body molded against your side.

Your sleeping mask is tugged off right when you start clenching around Natasha's fingers. You blink against the blinding light, barely managing to focus on Natasha's dark eyes and Wanda's slurty grin.

“Wanna see you come, pretty girl,” Natasha smirks, pushing deeper.

You throw your head back with a moan, body taut, your walls clenching hard, and when Wanda presses firmly on your clit right when Natasha’s fingers curl inside you, you cry out loud enough for everyone in the tower to hear.

“Good morning,” Wanda whispers against your lips, swallowing your moans as you come.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wandanat x you #sweet dreams

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elizabebabe · 4 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 ◟✿ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: a certain shipment delivers more than sweet, southern y/n could imagine.

| ”i love a good southern belle.”

minors dni!

| “right now? on my tractor?”

| “i’m gonna touch you now, okay sweetheart?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, kissing, fingering, exhibitionism?, smut with plot, smut; softdom!matt, innocent!reader, physically&verballyabusive!dad, religion; saying grace.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: this idea came to me when matt said he loved southern belles in the dress to impress video from a month ago…i took so long now that i think about it. 😞

the warm wind pushed through your locks, you were hunched down providing your pigs with their daily diet consisting of corn and other grains.

they huddled around it, chomping on what used to be in the bucket clutched between your palms.

your boots dug into the mud underneath you creating little footprints everywhere you stepped.

“i’m comin’” your sweet, thick southern accent laced your voice once you heard your mama call you in for supper.

you chucked the pale onto a hook adorned in the barn before giving your beloved piggies a few pats, locking their gate and hiking towards the family farmhouse, your bows placed through your hair bounced as you skipped, ready to tuck in.

a few plates scattered the table in front of you, abigail; your little sister properly sat at her “assigned seat.” truly the spot she sat at her whole life as-well as your little brother and mother.

“expect a shipment later today, tony should be bringin’ over a few goods.”

you nodded towards the voice, taking a seat at the chair across from your littles.

with such a big farm it was normal to receive constant shipments, you had a lot of animals to feed, including yourselves.

tony was the usual, he dropped a few things off casually and constantly rambled about his recent divorce it was tough to listen to but your dad always made you do it since you had the most cheerful face.

“how could he be sad lookin’ at those cheeks.” he spoke in a baby voice, one you recognized from when he spoke to your mom, finishing off his statement with a pinch of your cheeks.

the plate of oats and raised eggs landed in front of you, “enjoy sweetheart.” your mom said softly, delivering the rest of the plates she held like a server to dad and your little brother and sister.

“make sure you flash him a smile, make him feel special.” your dad continued, sure you were almost eighteen but you couldn’t help feeling weird when he said things like that, uncomfortable almost.

you let it slide following with a “i know.” you all link palms, abigail coiling her fingers between yours and your dad doing the same.

"dear lord, thank you for this food we are about to eat. we ask that you bless this food and continue to guide our family along your path, amen.”

your mom shared a quick grace before letting go of austin and her husband beside her hands.

you dug into the meal in front of you, family around you doing the same.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after supper you strolled outside, ready to tend to your sheep while your siblings were “old enough” to handle the chickens as they were only four and three, dad brushed it off expecting the best from his offspring.

the walk to the barn was calming, the hydrated grass underneath you squelching with each step.

seconds after stepping into their pen they crowd around you ready for lunch, you grab a bag out of a cabinet tucked into a corner, throwing the feed into the feeders and gently place the bag back where it belongs.

you kneeled at a stool sat in the same corner grabbing one of the few lamb’s and “throwing” it over your knees, giving it access to the bottle scrunched in your palm.

you were close with the animals, loving to take care of them especially your horses, you even named them all which was overridden by your younger siblings.

sometimes you still whisper the forgotten names towards them, ultimately making you sad that they don’t know it.

‘dong’, ‘dong’

the bell, tony was here, you picked the baby off you after a few more seconds of feeding deciding the shipment would be more important to dad than the babies right now, you hastily prepared yourself, adjusting your flowy pink dress and frilly socks that popped out of your boots, dusting off your butt as it came in contact with the dirty stool.

you strided outside the big red building, watching the tractor you recognized drive up from the gate that was being held open by your father.

‘did tony shave?’ you questioned in your mind, noticing his beard was absent from afar.

once he drove closer you observed the person not being tony at all, your hand’s immediately clammed now having to meet someone new instead of the normal routine.

your dad walked alongside the big vehicle, chatting with the man operating it.

“y/n!” your dad beckoned which hurried your speed, the driver wore a flannel and a cap, some dusty boots hung onto his feet.

“this is matt, tony’s nephew.” he mentioned with a nod, matt made eye contact with you once you came a bit closer. his gaze was intense, eye contact was ten/ten.

the blue hue didn’t help the piercing that they did to your soul, he waved, “hey.” pushed past his plump, pink lips, he had a similar accent to you but it was lighter, softer but huskier at the same time.

you were speechless, ‘why have we never met?’ living on a farm that was a large distance from your small town resorted in you not getting any interaction with guys your age, your only friends were the chickens you raised and you grew content with that but this brief meeting started this idea that you were missin’ out on the world.

“hi.” you say bashfully, your head finding the grass underneath you.

“y/n, where are your manners?” you could tell your dad was scolding you but he did it slyly, not trying to embarrass himself.

“greet the young man, properly. i’ve got work to do.” he stated before walking to the stables parked away from your home.

matt stepped off the big tractor, walking towards you, the butterflies in your stomach were persistent making it hard for you to hold a conversation.

“where should i put it all?” he nodded towards the vehicle with things you knew too well hooked on the back.

“uhh..” you hummed, speechless, behaving like you’ve never directed a shipment before.

he was patient, watching your face scrunch as you thought deeply, placing his hands on the peak of his hips.

you looked between him and the essentials hooked to the back of the tractor, “feed goes to the coop.” you pause.

“hay and seed in the barn.” halfway through your sentence he’s already made his way to the supplies, unpacking and sorting the items you listed.

“do you want me to install the heater.” he mentions the appliance your dad ordered for the winter, as the old one started collecting dust after being broken for the last few months.

“that’s okay, my dad likes doin’ stuff like that.” you smile cheerfully trying to keep your composure and give him the warm welcome your dad would want.

he chucked a heavy bag over his shoulder which flexed his clothed bicep, you just watched, stood there, your boots stabbing the grass beneath you.

he heaved another bag under his unoccupied arm and trekked towards the coop. usually this is when you get back to work, leaving the unloading to the man that previously sat behind the wheel.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

hay picked out of your palm, the horse in front of you bucking its head towards the lush foliage. your other hand brushing down the side of tilli’s neck, tilli being the name of the large animal ahead of you.

beads of water suddenly tapped on your shoulder, bringing you out of the gaze you strongly held on your “baby”.

your head dragged up to the hole that poked through the roof of the stable you stood in, the once bright sky seemed clouded but was hard to make out.

you took a few seconds waiting for tilli to finish what was in your hand then stepped away from her gate, walking towards the arch you previously had entered.

the sky was light but had a darkness that seemed to loom, your eyes quickly averted to the man who interacted with your father, gestures moving through the wind as you noticed the almost empty cart before them both.

“perfect.” you heard faintly.

“y/n, get over here.” your dad beckoned, the man beside his eyes latching and lingering onto you as you strolled over.

“yes daddy?” your words pushed past your lips, the accent on you looping through your words which seemed to earn a subtle gulp from the guy you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

the rain hurriedly fastened, starting to fall harder than before which sent a shiver down your spine.

“go on in, i’ll finish up.” you watched your mom poke her head out as your siblings ran inside your farmhouse doors.

“i don’t mind..” you mumble through the bumps collecting on your skin as well as the wetness, even the shakiness of your voice was evident.

you don’t know why you were adamant on staying out..maybe you wanted to impress a certain someone with your perseverance.

“don’t make a fuss.” your dad scolded, it was soft but it was there.

it snapped you out of the impression you attempted to make, your head immediately falling to the wet ground under their feet.

“now matt.” his hand swung to matt’s shoulder giving it a harsh squeeze, the palm sturdy on his flannel and the rain around you all turning to thunder which brought a squeal out of you and was a kick in the butt to rush towards the doors, not running in an attempt to keep your flowy now wet dress down.

you turned the nod, your mom seeming to have headed upstairs with your drenched brother and sister. you didn’t close the door behind you though you watched the interaction unfold through it.

it seemed normal and you expected matt to drop off the last bits of supplies tomorrow but those expectations were averted when you saw them both heading to you…or to the doors of your house.

‘what..?’ clouded your mind.

drips hit your hardfloor, splashing on contact.

“he’s gonna stay the night, too bad out there.” dad breathed.

you stepped away from the door as they both piled in your hand moving from the clutch you held onto the rustic frame.

your mind couldn’t help blocking out your dad’s words as soon as you heard, “he’s gonna stay the night.”.

a man that isn’t your dad?

staying here?

under the same roof?

how is he okay with that?

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all settled at the table ready for dinner, too busy working in the field you and father seemed to miss lunch, the man you averted your gaze from but couldn’t stop staring at sat at the head of the table, just like your dad. you could tell your little sister was giving him a curious stare as she sat ahead of you.

which meant you both sat beside him, both staring at him in different ways.

“here you are darlin’.” mama sat the full plate before matt.

“thank ya.” he thanked her his head swiveling towards her, he didn’t seem to speak much but everytime he did, your belly twirled hearing that accent lace his words.

it was music, music to your ears.

your spoon scooped into the red beans and rice your mom decided to make for comfort especially with the kids being frightened by the loud rumbling outside.

“matt, y/n” your dad beckoned at the table which snapped your head, “we say grace here.”

“remember?” you could hear his disappointment, you were even disappointed in yourself as your mind must’ve been elsewhere as this was the first time you forgot to say grace.

“m’ sorry.” you almost whisper, the man beside you taking longing stares at your now somber expression.

your dad clears his throat, his hands clinging to mom and stretching your arm towards him, he didn’t hold your hand, he clutched onto your wrist which punished you even further.

the bruising you could feel around your squeezed wrist subsided when a large hand grabbed at your small palm, matt seeming to take to the tradition sent a chill down your back.

eyes closed and your dad begun,

"dear lord, thank you for this food we are about to eat. we ask that you blah, blah, blah”

the words slurred as you could only focus on the calloused finger that gently caressed the back of your palm.

“amen.”

the word squinted your eyes open, fingers that once hooked together pulled away, the lack of the hand that weirdly but perfectly clicked in your own disappointed you.

the spoon you dropped from the reprimand you experienced was picked up, shoveling the warm meal into your mouth, attempting to keep your manners that echoed through your mind especially in front of your guest.

‘elbows off the table.’

‘chew with your mouth closed.’

‘small bites only.’

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you hooked your airy nightgown over your sticky body, the water beads you failed to dry clinging to the linen fabric.

you softly pushed your homely bathroom door that arched to your bedroom, walking towards the bed that typically hugged your body. you tugged yourself down, feeling the plush sheets that sprawled the mattress beneath.

while you tossed and turned your mind couldn’t help wandering, thinking about the boy walking your halls, sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs.

this has never happened to you, feeling something you’ve never felt before scaring you but enticing you at the same time.

you laid flat on your back, arms and legs stretched out not even tucking under your comfy covers. you lunged up your upper half, looking around your bedroom and through the window, water gently hit the glass softer than before.

….

water.

maybe you needed a glass of water to clear your mind, your legs swung off the bed, your hand ruffling the bit of your dress that seemed to lift.

the steps creaked on your impact, your descent to the cabinet was quick as you wanted to hurry back to bed before your dad noticed you were awake.

you knew you needed an early startup to make sure every animal’s needs were catered.

you shuffled through the cabinets, grabbing a clear glass from one of the shelves and placing it under the water dispenser.

“hi.”

you jumped the cool liquid spilling out of the cup and onto your gown.

“sorry!” the voice continued, your upset ended when you realize who it was.

“it’s…fuck.” you huffed placing the glass to a nearby counter and patting at the big wet spot.

“whoa, didn’t think you cussed.” he pulled a few paper towels off the holder, bunching them up.

“pardon me.” you continued accepting the pats he made on your tummy, attempting to dry the spot.

you were close, his body heat radiating from him, his gaze fixated on the gown you handpicked.

“i-i..didn’t mean to cuss.” you pause averting your attention to avoid flusteredness.

“it’s okay.” he breathed moving the paper from your belly and to the trash closeby.

you both stood there awkwardly, the sound of birds chirping filling the silence.

“is it still raining?” pushed past your lips in an attempt to end it, whatever it was, he peered out the panels of your farmhouse door.

“looks like it.” your head snapped towards the bay window that decorated the open lounge room.

it had stopped contrary to your belief as you had witnessed it minutes prior. he walked towards the door, pulling it open and taking steps out onto the porch.

a breeze pushed through his t-shirt and shorts that almost covered his knees. you stepped outside alongside him, your nightgown flowing in the wind.

“it’s beautiful.” he mumbled, which drew your attention.

….

“i’m sure your farm is pretty….no?” you reply.

….

“me and my uncle have a small ranch..a horse or two comes on the land but we don’t own em.” he nodded, his head dragging to his feet.

you watched him, your eyes observing his mood.

“doin’ shipments to get by.” he continued, noticing your silence he took a few steps to the stairs, taking a seat and looking into the deep blue sky, the stars twinkling seeming to catch his attention.

you never worked a day in your life well..worked like that.

everything was made for you, the animals you kept being a fun hobby not something to have food on the table. you followed behind him, sitting beside him on the porch step.

“i’ve never been in that..situation..” you commented hopeful to ease his anxiety that exudes from his mannerisms.

silence…a long pause.

“the stars.”

you looked up, acknowledging what he mentioned.

“they’re calming.”

….

“had a sun roof last summer before my dad covered it up, watched the stars every night before bed.” you smiled at him which he reciprocated.

“why?”

your eyebrow raises.

“why did he cover it up?” he softly nodded at your words.

“punishment.” you continued, your eyes bared into the soles of your feet that touched the wet grass.

“maybe i didn’t shear the sheep enough, feed the lambs enough, milk the cows, train the horses, even not batting my fucking eyelashes enough for tony.” your eyes welled up as you rambled and his body tensed at the name of his uncle.

he placed his hand on your back, beginning to scoot closer and rub soothing motions on top of the linen fabric.

“m’sorry…” you whispered, tugging your head to look at him.

his eyes warmed at your now wet face, his thumb pricking at your tears.

“don’t be.” he didn’t mumble or whisper, he wanted you to hear him, hear that.

“i’m just tired.” you choked out, excusing yourself, taking a stand which brushed off his hands.

you basically ran inside ignoring the squeaking of the floor and heading straight to your room upstairs.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you slid your tight shorts on, tied your blue gingham top around your bra and tugged on your brown boots.

you were ready for a fresh day hoping matt had forgotten about your what you would call embarrassing outburst.

you hurried down the steps, noticing your siblings in their playroom and your mom in the kitchen. matt and your dad seemed to have settled near the porch.

matt was tucking things into a backpack he must’ve tugged in last night.

“y/n!” your dad noticed your presence peaking onto the porch.

“you woke up late, lambs are behind, help matt out the gate, his tractors in the barn.” a familiar stern pat landed on matt’s shoulder.

you were already ashamed and the dump of chores made it worse, you brought your head down, nodding and stepping off the porch you felt matt following behind you.

you walked him over, and he quickly chucked his bag on the vehicle that sat in the barn all night avoiding the thunder and potential rust.

“last night,” he stated.

your face scrunched up, cringe crawled your skin.

“my uncle won’t come down anymore.” your eyebrows knitted, ‘what.?’

“won’t let him, i’ll take over.”

silence..

he stepped towards you, closing a gap that was wedged by a tractor.

“you won’t have to see him again.”

“it won’t fix your problems with your dad bu—“ he attempted to continue but your arms slung around his neck, pulling him flush against your body.

tears sticking up your eyelashes.

you pulled your head out of the crook of his neck, your eye’s connecting, embarrassment rushing over you after your mind caught up with your body.

there was a certain tension, a tension you couldn’t resist or solve, he seemed to have the same problem as he pulled you up into him, his lips connecting with yours.

it was surprising at first but then felt so right, it was sudden at first but felt so right.

the sun beamed into the barn, he pulled away from you, a quick peck being the only thing he gave you.

“m’sorry.” he nodded slowly, pulling his arms from your sides.

“don’t be.” you pulled him back into a tender kiss, it was slow and sensual, he took control, guiding you through it as you had no idea what you were doing but you could sense him taking his time.

taking a beat before poking through your lips, tongues swirling with each other after he interacted with yours.

he must’ve lost his balance, his knees buckling making him fall back towards the green tractor.

you were making out with a boy stalled on a tractor, it was like a dream.

thoughts of getting caught by your dad, the potential repercussions, scarring your little brother, planting ideas into your kid sister's head and earning a tattle from your mom flooded your mind but was forced to subside when his hand linked under your thigh hooking it up to his waist.

a slam of a door made you jump, your head swiveled and left boot tucked back into the ground, you watched matt readjust his flannel.

“alright, let’s hook these up and you’ll be off.” your dad scrambled holding a few sturdy hay bales , he didn’t seem to notice what had just happened.

“what’s that for?” matt turned towards him, beckoning towards the hay.

“payment, this will have to do for now.” he sighed, stacking the hay into place behind the tractor.

“you can feed those wild horses!” you squealed, budding in the conversation you weren’t a part of even though you were standing beside them.

he smiled at you but it quickly flattened, “you’ll have the money for me soon though, right?” he tucked his hand into his pocket gesturing with the free one.

a huff left his lips, “y/n, don’t interrupt when grown men are speaking.” he slammed his hands against the haystack, giving a few more pats as your lips twisted, matt took note of the expression, you can tell he did by his blatant staring which made you want the mud beneath you to swallow you whole.

“i’ll get you the money, send it through mail or whatever the hell.” he fixated on the cap on top of his head wiping sweat beads from his forehead before walking away.

matt took one last look at the hay tied to his cart before hopping on the tractor, you watched which is something you and matt seemed to have in common, observing the people around you before doing anything, it was definitely something that was instilled in you by your dad’s harsh parenting.

which is why your next move took even yourself by surprise, you stepped onto the ledge that gave you enough leverage to boost yourself on top of his lap.

he looked shocked but his face quickly faded as he met you halfway, assuming you wanted to continue your interrupted make out, reaching for your hips and pulling you closer on his lap, having you straddle his thighs, his hands firmly on your hips as he pulled you towards his chest.

his eyes ran all over your face and body, drinking in the sight of you on his lap for the first time, gently rubbing his hands up and down your torso. he leaned his head forward which signaled you to kiss his plush, pink, plump lips which you had no problem doing.

bringing him closer for loose, gentle pecks that carried what felt like love to you.

they began trailing down your neck, it was casual. he seemed to have no impression to move beyond the kisses but you wanted more, you craved something you’ve never had before and it was an “interesting” feeling.

“interesting”; the wet pool that hastily adorned your panties, the swirls in your stomach.

his fingers digging into your skin and hands carelessly slipping under your shirt, caressing your soft skin underneath briefly contradicted the light kisses.

“matt…” you breathed, immediately gaining his attention which seemed to halt his movements.

“you okay darlin’?”

‘“darlin’” where did that come from?’

“i…-i” you couldn’t explain yourself, embarrassment warming your cheeks.

“you want me to stop?” his head tilted his body somehow becoming more distant even squeezed on the tractor seat, “no!” you practically shouted, trying to remember not to beckon your family.

his eyes widened, his body warmth returning, “i need you…in ways i can’t explain.” you hum.

his mouth slightly gaped open, “right now? on my tractor?” he questioned rubbing one of his hands to the side of your head, the other returning under your shirt.

you nodded vigorously, impatience rising with his timid behavior.

he slowly leaned forward, his mouth attaching itself to your exposed collarbone and beginning to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of your neck, seeming to take your nods for gospel.

the hand that previously patted your head slid down, following the smooth expanse of your stomach to those tight shorts of yours, he teased with slow movements on the buttons which resulted in a whine from you.

“patience darlin’.” he smirked, a side of him you’ve never seen poking out under the circumstances, he needed to hurry before someone walked in the barn and he knew it, why was he doing this?

“i’m gonna touch you now, okay sweetheart?” he softly smiled, continuing to toy with the buttons and work your neck.

you softly nodded, hums and huffs slipping past your lips every once and a while.

he pulled at the buttons, zipping down your shorts and revealing your plain white panties, nothing special but he seemed to be amused as you noticed his glossy eyes.

“lift up.” he demanded his tone ruff and husk.

immediately complying, you lifted your lower half, giving him the leverage he needed to slowly slip his fingers underneath the fabric of your underwear, resting close to where you needed him most.

‘what a tease.’

“this okay, darlin’?” he breathed against your skin, looking up at your face.

“mhmm..” you hummed.

“oh baby…let me hear that sweet accent.” he hummed back.

“yes matt.” you squeaked, your thighs squeezing around his.

“good girl.” he nodded, his fingers moving lower, guiding themselves through your slickness.

you winced at the feeling which made his head turn from below, “you okay?” his head turned which was rewarded with an eager nod, your hands that rested on his shoulder pushing forward as your arms no longer occupied the spot, allowing yourself to squeeze around him for any kind of leverage as he explored your soppy cunt.

focusing on staying lifted so as to not crush his hand and enjoy the feeling from your pussy was hard but you were trying your best and you could tell that’s all he would want.

your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his fingers pushing past your folds and sinking into your dripping hole.

a sharp exhale ensued from your body, your mind already cloudy as his long fingers explored your walls, your eyebrows knitted together while your hips attempted to move themselves but were quickly halted by a firm hand holding you in place.

“patience.” he hummed again.

his fingers scissor inside you, opening your tight cunt, he whispered sweet nothings in your ear once he noted your hissing.

“you feel so good.”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“i got you.”

“just relax.”

peppering soft kisses to your temple as he did lewd movements downstairs, your head quickly nods to his words, something about his accent making your head spin..

an unoccupied digit slipped onto your clit, slowly rubbing back and forth before gaining more speed with the wetness that trickled down your pussy.

your lips curled, not wanting to make any noises with these unexpected feelings.

you never knew what you were missing out on, he played with the noise of your wet squelching, pumping in and out of you just to hear it over and over again.

a curl happening every once and a while resulting in a curl of your back which only gave him more access to deeper inside of you.

you were crumbling, sweat beads dotted your skin.

lips firmly pressed together to avoid any slip ups, “i wish i could hear you.” he whispered to your ear lobe, bringing his palm that clutched your hip to your face, his thumbs gliding over your shut lips.

which allowed your lower half to work against his fingers, you couldn’t help it, your hips moving being instinctual.

he didn’t seem to notice though still paying mind to your shut lips that struggled, you tightened around his slender fingers once he made eye contact with you, his eyes narrow which only made your body tremble more.

you felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable with your pleasure written all over your face right in his sight but at this point you couldn’t worry about it.

you had too much to think about already.

the circles on your swollen clit died down, being more lazy and slow instead of the previous vigorous action.

a sudden cramp in your belly made you cry, his eyes watching your own once they squeezed shut.

“you’re orgasm is building.” he said calmly, continuing his movements, which made your body buzz.

“o-orgasm..?” you continue to squint, “you’re gonna cum.”

your head turned to its side once you gained a bit of stability and strength.

“it’ll be okay.” he reassured, his hand giving those pats he previously gave on the head.

which lead to your nods.

he was trying not to show it, to remain in control but watching your face contort with pleasure, hearing a “humph” that escaped from your lips and watching your eyes roll back was making his mind fuzzy.

his cock strained, pulsing from beneath his jeans but he wanted to pay attention to you.

this was about you.

his fingers somehow found a deeper spot every time they pushed into you, his hand guiding you up and down the digits.

suddenly what felt like a balloon popped in your tummy, your jaw went slack, legs trembling and vision clouded as you came undone.

his fingers continued working against you, riding you through your high.

“good job sweetheart.” he huffed into your ear, his hip’s involuntarily bucking up into you, soft sorries quickly slipping past his lips.

first smut i’ve ever written.

this isn’t what i originally had in mind when i came up with this idea but it just happened as i continued writing, i also wanted to add more detail but i needed to post before next week anyway love you and forgive me for my inactivity. 🩵

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #zabebabe

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thestarkinternship · 10 months ago

Text

Under the Table

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: During a team meeting, you decide to have a little out of sight fun with Bucky. The kind that leaves both his mind and body the kind of mess that only you can clear up.

Word Count: 1.5k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: profanity, dirty thoughts, exhibitionism (other people unaware in the room), handjob (kinda?), mentions of sex and oral (male receiving). 18+, MINORS DNI

Bucky tried to focus. Really, he did. But with the feeling of your hand delicately trailing up and down his thigh underneath the table, his attention was starting to slip.

The sensation was so light at first that Bucky had almost dismissed it entirely. A quick glance at your face showed nothing unusual, and so he tried to refocus on the meeting and the details about the upcoming mission. Tony and the others carried on, none the wiser to Bucky’s confusion at the far end of the table.

But then there it was again. Slightly more pressure, and an inch further up his jeans. No, there was definitely something going on. He looked over at you again, tilting his head in curiosity. Studying you for a moment, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder. You were unusually still, your brows knitted together in keen focus. That wasn’t like you at all. Any other time, you’d be tapping a pen, bouncing your knee, drumming your fingertips on the wooden table. The constant need to fidget or shuffle around in your seat – no matter how much he loved you – drove him crazy. So what was going on? He couldn’t quite work it out.

The longer he looked at you, the more Bucky noticed the mischievous gleam in your eyes. It was the kind that you reserved for when you were alone together. But yet here you were, sat next to him in a meeting with some mysterious scheme running through your mind.

And then the next touch came. This time, a gentle squeeze on his crotch that was unmistakeable. That’s when Bucky realised that your hands were hidden, tucked out of sight.

He swallowed nervously. Oh God. It was you.

You noticed the change in his demeanour from confusion to surprise, as a small smirk played on your lips. You were brave, he had to give you that. He had to hold himself back from laughing at the idea of it all. Bucky was in disbelief at the audacity you had, but he was definitely not in a position to stop you. Keeping your eyes on Tony at the front of the room, you let your hand wander his lower body.

His cheeks warmed as he felt himself begin to react beneath your touch. Cock stiffening more and more, he strained against the tight fabric of his boxers. Bucky squirmed, adjusting himself in his seat. The tiny movement pushed your hand further up, lingering right on his clothed shaft. Even beneath the thick denim of his jeans, the effect you had on him was becoming a growing problem. One that he couldn’t do a damn thing about. The smirk on your face grew, a fact that didn’t go amiss to Bucky. You were enjoying the control that you had in this situation. His jaw clenched tight at the realisation.

Any other time, you’d be underneath him, whining and whimpering whilst he loomed over you. His dog tags would be dangling in front of your face as he took his sweet time. He’d slip them between your lips, forcing you to be quiet as he teased your aching cunt for as long as he could stand before finally ravishing your body in the way that it deserved.

But now, Bucky was powerless. You knew his body like it was your own by now, and you didn’t need to look to know the way his cock would sit in his jeans. It didn’t take you long to find it, and as you did so your touch increased. You cupped your palm, cradling and squeezing as much of him as you possibly could. He sucked in a sharp breath. The chair legs squeaked whilst Bucky’s hips rutted, pushing his cock further into your touch. You swiped over the spot where you knew his tip would be, and he mentally cursed at the drop of pre-cum that leaked out. The wet bead dampened his boxers as you spread it around with another gentle rub.

It was taking all of his restraint not to visibly react to what was going on. With darkening eyes, Bucky shot you a warning glare. If you carried on like this, he’d have no choice but to drag you out of your seat and bend you over the table so he could fuck you right here in front of everyone for daring to play with him. The image of him pinning your hands behind your back whilst he kept you in place to keep you from protesting flashed through his mind. These dirty thoughts sent Bucky into a hot spiral.

You slid your hand up and down his lap, squeezing in just the right places. His cock throbbed with a life of its own, yearning for more. Fuck. You weren’t even touching him and yet here he was, silently pleading with you to make him come.

Bucky rutted up into your hand, the head of his cock slipping through your grasp as you maintained steady contact. He wanted nothing more than to feel your soft hand wrapped around him, working up and down in careful strokes. To admire the sight of your pretty red lips parting before taking him deep in your throat. He’d hold your hair back, giving your wet tongue uninterrupted access to him in his most vulnerable state.

The current topic of the meeting was long forgotten as his thoughts revolved around you and only you. His heartbeat sped up, and Bucky could hear it ringing in his ears as the blood rushed from his head to his stiff length. He didn’t know it was possible to be this hard. Just from this small amount of teasing, it was nearly shameful how rock solid he was. Thin veins protruded up and down his swollen cock, rubbing against the cotton of his boxers. You were pushing his body to its limits in the best way.

Running your fingers up and down, his come swelled below the bulging tip. Bucky was so close. One more gentle squeeze of your hand was all that it would take to tip him over that edge you had brought him to.

He looked over at you, eyes glazed over, bottom lip trembling. The tension in his jaw eased as you urged him on to the release that he so desperately needed.

Please. Please let me come, doll.

You understood that pleading look in his eye right away. A subtle nod of your head was all the permission that Bucky needed. His teeth dug into his bottom lip to stifle a moan as he let go. You felt his thighs tense under the table. His hand flew to yours, the tight grip preventing you from overstimulating him in the moment. Bucky held your hand there still, and you felt the warmth of his come as it soaked through the layers of his clothing. And there was just so much of it. Streams of hot, sticky fluid coated his throbbing cock as he came down from the intimate high. For a moment, his eyelids fluttered shut as he revelled in the bliss of his emptied balls.

Finally, he released your hand and you pulled away. Whilst his boxers had caught most of the mess, a few stray beads had seeped through the material and onto your thumb. It shone under the harsh lighting, and Bucky’s eyes fell upon it at the same time that yours did. You looked up at him and without missing a beat, brought your thumb to your lips and sucked it off. The gesture happened too quickly for anyone else to notice, but it was all Bucky could focus on. How your cheeks hollowed out as you cleaned off his come. How wet your lips were as you licked over them. He chuckled softly at the whole ordeal. You were amazing.

His flushed cheeks returned to their normal colour as he relaxed. Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders fell back down, and his quick heart rate steadied. Sitting there in the mess you created, he couldn’t wait for to get you out of this room.

Not soon enough for Bucky’s liking, the meeting came to an end. Everyone began to gather up their things and clear out, but Bucky stayed there. Leaning back in his seat, he watched you talk mindlessly to Natasha like you hadn’t just gotten him off under the entire team’s nose. You said goodbye to Natasha as she left the two of you alone.

“So, what are we doing for the rest of today?” You asked casually, absentmindedly getting ready to leave yourself.

After a quiet moment, Bucky stood up. His hands slid over your hips and pulled you back into him. You gasped a little as he spun you around, keeping one arm tight around you. Lifting his other hand, he cupped your cheek, tearing your focus away from your bag on the table. Tension built in the quiet room at the small gesture. A cool metal finger traced over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, you’re coming with me, and you’re going to clean up the mess you made.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #the winter soldier #the winter solder fic

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natti-ice · 10 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson Choking You.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Choking, p in v, degradation, creampie

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

Eddie thrusted himself deeper inside you, your walls tighting around his dick with every pump, he was on top of you his necklace dangling in front of your face.

"You're taking me so good" he praises, you moan from the pure pleasure he gives you

Eddie's hand traveled on your abdomen, palming your tits, his rough fingers on your sensitive nipples made you twitch. He groans as he keeps his pace, once he gets into a rhythm he always got a little aggressive.

It was very sexy.

You loved when he manhandled you a bit, in the bedroom you were his little slut and you were always happy to please him.

Eddie moved his hand from your breast to your neck, his hand was rough and dry, the metal on his rings were cool to the touch. His hand fit perfectly around your throat, he applied pressure to the sides of your neck. You gasped at the sudden dominance

You could still breathe but your airway was restricted, you felt yourself getting a little lightheaded but you enjoy it, a lot.

"You like that, baby?" He chuckled as he watched a wave of pleasure wash over you "such a good slut" Eddie coos

He brought his free hand down to your pussy, circling your clit roughly with the pad of his thumb. You whimper from the stimulation, your mouth flings open but nothing came out

Eddie quickened his thrust, the sound of skin slapping intensives, your eyes are shut tightly as you cum, your legs are trembling as you ride out your high.

You were too lost in euphoria to realize you could breathe again, Eddie removed his hand as he came inside you.

"I knew you liked choking" he says as he falls next to you, he huffed triumphantly. He leans over a bit getting right next to your ear, your brain was complete mush but you heard him.

"You look so pretty with my hands around your neck"

Tags: @tracymbcm @ali-r3n @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @canmargesimpson @nailbatanddungeon @queermaxwooo @zestychili @skrzydlak @supersmexyandhot @themadhattersqueen @arthurcerverogf @asimpforthe80s @yeaiamme2 @thepurplelovewitch @luv4peterba1lard @boa-hemian @thiccthighbby @jethro-mcgee-tony @keirasreplies @limerence-17 @mandies24 @tlclick73 @songbirdofthenight @evie-119

Join a tag list!

#natti’s 18+#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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prodbyton · 5 months ago

Text

video ❀ l.at

“can we put it on video?” anton x f!reader smut +18 mdni. wc. 2.4k (hehe) warnings: consented recording, sub!anton, mommy kink, unprotected sex,

a shiver ran through antons body as he felt the bed dip behind him. you smiled at the way he tried to regulate his breathing, you haven’t even touched him yet. but he was feeling extra sensitive tonight and extra nervous about what you would do to him now that you had a camera facing him.

“are you okay?” you ask him once more before you start anything, your words tickling his ear.

“good, now look at the camera baby” you finally touch him, bringing your hands to rest on his shoulders. once you know he’s looking into the camera you reach your hands over his shoulders to feel on his chest. his breath hitches at the way you feel him up, your fingers dragging across his hard nipples that poke through his shirt.

turning anton on was too easy, a little teasing had him hard in his shorts and weakly attempting to lift his hips into the air. you bring your hands down so they’re between his arms, and you rest your palms on thighs. your eyes travel up his body before you look into the camera, moving your head up so you can place a wet kiss on antons neck. he gasps at the contact, and his hands that held him up squeezed the sheets under him.

your hands travel up to play with the hem of antons shirt, one of your hands going under the fabric to trace his skin. he was warm, and you can feel his stomach contracting with each touch and each kiss you leave on his neck.you lift his shirt up slightly, revealing his abs for the camera. gripping the fabric, you lift it so it rests just below his chest while you continue to feel him up. he adjusts the way he’s sitting and you feel good knowing that he’s already worked up.

“take your pants off for me toni” he’s quick to bring his hands to the hem of his sweats, fumbling to push them off and once they’re pooled at his ankles he brings them up to take his boxers off as well but you stop him and he whines.

“patient boys get what they want faster, so just relax and let me play with you for the camera”

“y-yes mommy” his voice is quiet, lower than usual since he was getting shy again from the camera. he honestly forgot it was there despite you making him look into it. things he would do with no shame was suddenly a struggle when he remembered this was being recorded. but he couldn't lie and say it didn't turn him on more.

since he was being good you decided to give him some grace, finally helping him take off his shirt. behind him, you were already without your clothes, just in a bra and panties. anton always liked when you teased him like this, making him get completely naked before you revealed all of yourself to him. even with you behind him, he won't be able to predict your next move and he liked the thrill of it all.

“my boy is so pretty, so perfect all for me” you let your words ring out in the room before kissing his bare shoulder, then up his neck and to the shell of his ear. you bring your arms around to the front of his body again, one hand going down his body to rest on his thigh again, while the other tapped on his bottom lip for him to open his mouth. he complies quickly, mouth opening for you to shove two of your fingers in. he lets his head fall back on your shoulder as he closes his lips around your fingers, swirling his tongue around the digits and wetting them before you even have to ask. the hand that rests on his thigh trails up and he shifts at the tickling sensation. you give him a chaste kiss right under his ear before grabbing his cock through his boxers. he lets out a choked sound at the contact, sucking harder on your fingers for a moment when you squeeze him.

when you feel like your fingers were wet enough, you pull them out of his mouth and make contact with his sensitive nipples. he moans, they were so hard it almost hurt when you touched them. his hips lifted the more you played with them, making you jerk him off through his underwear.

“please mommy, want more” he whines, and you squeeze his cock again.

“didn’t i tell you to be patient? it’s like you don't want to cum tonight,” you pinch his nipple in your hand and he shakes his head in protest.

“sorry! i wanna cum, wanna cum so bad please, ‘m sorry” he pushes his own hips down into the mattress to prevent himself from rutting into your hand again. anton being so desperate was the biggest reward, watching this big guy be completely weak at your hand. all you can do is hum and smile at the way he is so quick to behave when you tell him to.

you take your hand off his nipple, the bud swollen from all your teasing. you bring your hand to his face again, turning his head so he can face you before you kiss him sweetly. he whimpers into your mouth, the kiss turning sloppy due to antons lack of control. when you pull away there's a trail of spit that connects your lips together, and he smiles weakly at you.

his faint smile turns into a frown when you pull away from him completely, getting off the bed and walking towards the camera. you stand in front of him with your back facing him as you grab the device, and he fights the urge to reach for you. you’ve been touching him all night and he wanted to feel you for himself, but when you were in charge he knew not to do anything unless you told him to.

when you turn around you have the camera in your hand, anton looks up at you waiting for you to give him instruction.

“i want you to hold the camera,” your voice is flat and anton nods, and he shifts further up the bed so his back rests against the headboard. he reaches for the camera in your hands, and once he takes it from your grasp he turns it to face you. he thinks you’re so beautiful, and he smiles dumbly at you when you climb back onto the bed and move towards him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he reaches out for your hand with his free hand, and he smiles when you let him touch you. you love when he holds your hand. he was always so warm and your hand fit so perfectly in his like you two were a puzzle.

“thank you baby, you’re so beautiful too” you bring the hand up so you can caress his face while his hand still held yours, smiling at his sweet words and bending over to kiss him. he smiled against you and you smiled back, squeezing his hand while you deepened the kiss. the camera was almost forgotten when you shifted to sit in his lap, hand abandoning the device so he could help steady you on top of him. you brung your other hand up to run through antons hair, pulling at the strands which earned a soft moan.

you both let out hard sighs when you shifted in his lap again, pressing your body onto his cock. you could feel him twitch under you when you ground your hips onto him, knowing you had stripped him of relief moments ago he was still super sensitive.

“i know you want me to be patient,” he pulls away from you, keeping his head down while he speaks. you tilt your head while you wait for him to continue. “want- i want you”

“hmm, what do you want, pretty boy?” you lift his chin up so he can look you in the eyes, and he bites his lip shyly when he sees the smirk on your face. saying what he wants specifically feels so humiliating, but that's exactly why you make him talk. he hates it but you feel the way he twitches again under you.

“can i fuck you? wanna feel your pussy, please mommy, i've been so good-” you cut off his begging with a kiss, successfully silencing him and squeezing his hand again.

“want you to cum like this first, then you can fuck me baby” you kiss him again before grinding your hips on him again and he whimpers, hand that rests on your waist squeezing you hard, and you remember the camera was still on. you take his hand off of you to guide it back to the camera, making sure he was holding it in his hands before you moved again.

it wasn't going to take long for anton to cum, he was so pent up that he was sure he would cum any second if he focused on your movements too much, or if he looked you in the eye. so he tried to focus on keeping the camera angled at where you and him met, even if his eyes could barely stay open.

“gonna cum baby?” you lean to whisper in his ear, and he feels like he could faint. he just nods, not trusting

his voice at this moment. it only takes you moving on him a few more times for him to cum, head thrown back as he whines and lifts his hips to push against your core as his cum leaks through his underwear. you don't help him ride his orgasm out, just moving off him and collecting some of the cum onto your fingers and bringing it to your mouth. anton blinks slowly, watching you intently and angling the camera to show your face.

you smile, before turning so you can lay down. you make quick work of unclasping your bra and taking your panties off, which were getting uncomfortably wet. making anton feel good turned you on a lot more than you put on, knowing you can get him so weak filled you with a lot of pride.

when you grab the camera from anton, he knew that was his queue to tend to you now. he was in between your legs in a blink, spreading your legs open and whining at the sight of your cunt leaking down onto the sheets. you adjust the camera so it can get the perfect view of all of him, from his face to his cock, which was still hard. you take your free hand and bring it to grab antons cock, teasing it against your entrance as a hint for him to do something. you wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you, he brings his own hand to rest on your hip. he takes his free hand to align himself and he sighs as he enters you, and you moan at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“you’re so big, baby. always making me feel so good” you whine when he starts to find his rhythm, his cock filling you up so perfectly. he fucks you slow but deep, just the way you taught him. making sure that he hits your g-spot with each deep thrust. he won't be able to cum unless he knows he’s making you feel good as well.

“love you, love you so much” he cries out with a particularly sharp thrust, and you have to use your hand that isn't holding the camera to grab onto anton, squeezing his bicep as he kept hitting that sensitive spot inside of you.

“love you too baby, move faster for me” you clench around him and he moans, pace faltering slightly in an attempt to hold out from cumming too soon.

“c-cant, m’gonna cum,” he shakes his head, and you pout at his reaction. you take one of his hands that rested on your hips to bring it down to your clit, and he gets the hint instantly. his thumb making quick circles on your clit helps tighten that knot in your stomach.the both of you definitely wouldn't last long, both of you so desperate to cum that it was almost a battle of who would cum first.

“you can do it baby, i’m so close,” you bring the camera closer to show how anton was fucking you. he started to move faster, closing his eyes as he tries to not cum before you do. each thrust has you moaning, his thumb expertly working your clit and pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

with one more deep thrust you were cumming, pussy spasming around his cock and your back arching off the bed. you held onto antons wrist so hard he was sure you could’ve broken it if you had held him any tighter. he still kept rubbing your clit to help you ride your orgasm, thrusting in you at the same pace until you weakly tried pushing him off of you.

shortly after he felt his orgasm hit, pulling out of you and hands making contact with his cock as he jerked himself off until he was shooting thick ropes of cum over your cunt. he was shaking as he squeezed himself until there wasn't anything left.

once you fully caught your breath, you turned the camera off and placed it next to you on the bed. you sat up, bringing your face close to antons as he was still collecting himself. you bring a hand up to pat his hair, smiling at him as he looked at you weakly.

“you did such a good job for me baby” you praise him, making sure to check on him in the process before you lay him down. he just buries his face in your neck, kissing the sweaty skin and you two lay down for a few minutes before heading into the shower to clean yourselves up.

if only you had a waterproof camera, you could have recorded anton having you pressed against the shower wall with his face buried in your cunt.

a/n: toniiswrld are we back 🙈 it feels good to finally finish a fic like omg… and i got so super carried away writing this anton makes me crazy. i hope you guys enjoyed it!!!

#riize smut #riize x reader #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #anton smut #anton x reader #anton x reader smut #lee anton smut #anton hard hours #anton hard thoughts

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randomstuffjustrandom · 6 months ago

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Surrounded by Assassins

Steve, being righteous or smth: If you kill a killer, the total number of killers remain the same.

Bucky, mouth full of cereal: Kill 2.

Clint, coming out of the vents: Not if you were already a killer.

Natasha, bored: Then just kill yourself.

Bonus:

Steve, face palms: oh my god! That’s not the point.

Tony, nonchalant: What did you expect? You’re surrounded by assassins.

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Request 👉🏼👈🏼 ? Black widow!reader and winter soldier!Bucky! He was her teacher in the red room, where they eventually fell in love and started a secret relationship, until Hydra and Dreykov found out and separated them. Fast forward several years, Bucky’s out of recovery, reunited with Steve, and living a better life when Tony brings in a new team member. And everyone’s excited but Bucky’s on edge and kinda wary until he learns who it is.

It’s his lil widow, the love of his life, his soulmate. the one Hydra and the red room stole from him, the girl he kept dreaming about no matter how many times his handlers tried to wipe his memories. Just complete fluffy, smutty, love sick shit with him being a massive simp for his deadly girl. maybe building a family, getting married, drabbles of him drooling over her skills or her in the widow suit, like oh yea, I taught her that. I can imagine him being so overly protective, constantly holding her close to his chest because she was stolen away from him once, he won’t survive if that happens again.

YESSSSS God this is so cute and smutty and angsty and FLUFFY it makes my chest itch in the best way. Pls ignore what google translate may have botched. Bucky is the cutest, horny, most deadly simp here, so proud of his girl, absolutely yes.

"ne proyavlyay miloserdiya, soldat" [Show no mercy, soldier], Dreykov hissed, letting the soldier enter the red room with a single widow standing before him, not an ounce of fear in her eyes. The soldier grunted, hitting the button that locked the door that kept her from escaping before lunging forward, testing her agility after personally training her himself.

She leapt over him with ease, bracing her hands on his wide shoulders and landing swiftly behind him and swiping her leg under him to knock him to the floor, straddling him immediately after. He grasped her hands in his, rolling over till she was pinned under his large mass with her wrists held together above her head in his metal hand.

"You've learned well kotenok" His voice was husky behind the mask, blue eyes sparkling while she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy bol'shoy, soldat" [Not fair when you're so large, soldier]. She gasped feeling him harden on top of her, his rough uniform doing nothing to hide what he was feeling for her, slotted between her thighs.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy krasivyy, kotonok" [Not fair when you're so pretty, kitten]. He climbed off her, allowing her to get into position before attacking again, relentlessly throwing punches and blocking them till she nearly collapsed. They retreated to stand at attention at the sound of the doors hissing open, indicating training was over. The soldier grunted a nod as Dreykov walked in, assessing the widow, a sinister smile plastered on his face seeing both of his assets worn but still at their strongest.

He sent them off to their cells, confident that the fear he'd instilled in his captives would be enough to ensure they stayed in line, not realizing his punishments would only go so far.

It wasn't enough to stop the charming young man from Brooklyn who still lived in his most feared asset.

"Did I hurt you baby" The soldier whispered, kissing her bruised knuckles softly after sneaking into her cell, pulling her into his arms.

"You could never" She smiled, melting into his embrace. She never intended on falling in love with the soldier but here she was, feeling his gentle hands wander, leaning up to kiss his soft, pink lips. They were playing a dangerous game but it was to stop now.

He loved her.

She loved him.

"Wipe him" The hydra agent ordered while the soldier gripped onto the chair, gritting his teeth while sharp burning spread through his body, frying his brain. The widow dug her nails into her palms, resolve slowly crumbling seeing the love of her life tortured, unable to hold back anymore.

"Stop!" She finally broke, unable to watch any longer, gasping at the sinister smile Dreykov gave her, ordering his men to grab her before increasing the voltage.

"My, my, does it hurt you when we hurt him" Dreykov sneered, turning up the dial, Bucky's screams tearing her apart on the inside.

"Don't-AH-JAMES" A hydra soldier gripped her hair, yanking her back before she could go to him, shackles binding her hands together, dragging her away.

"kotenok" [kitten] The soldier sadly whispered, unheard by her, her kicking and screaming form blurry from his unshed tears. He screamed in pain as another shock ripped through his veins before the world went black.

He never saw her again.

Bucky gasped, sucking in a deep breath of air, his chest heaving from the dream he'd just had, sweat covering his chest, dripping from his forehead.

It was the same thing almost every night.

His mind replaying the same thing over and over again; training with her in the red room, the way she felt under him, the way he'd cuddle and make love to her afterwards without a soul knowing. He didn't plan on falling for the woman he had to train to be a killer but he didn't stand a chance the day she'd knocked him down with a knife pressed to his neck seconds later. He could have married her then and there.

He slumped back against his pillow, running a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

In the several years, he'd slowly managed to get his life back together. He was apart of the team and living at the compound with Steve and the others. He was no longer controlled by trigger words, he had been forgiven by the government, he was starting to recover from all the trauma he'd endured. His nightmares were less frequent, slowly learning to forgive himself for the things he'd been forced to do under Hydras control.

The only thing he never got over was her.

She still lived in his dreams. Still owned his heart. That was his girl and she was torn away by the very people that had taken everything else from him too. No amount of wiping or torture took her away. His handler tried his hardest, shocking him till his nose bled and his veins nearly burnt to bits but her name would fall from his lips as he lay nearly unconscious.

His sweet widow.

Bucky glanced at the faint light starting to stream through the curtains, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed to get up instead of attempting to sleep for 5 more minutes. He threw on a hoodie and some joggers, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away as usual. He didn't stop till his knuckles split, ignoring the sting, instead thinking about how he'd kiss her soft hands after he'd train her, bandaging them up when no one was looking.

The hot water from the shower did little to ease the tension in his muscles as he made his way to the kitchen next, plopping onto a stool with a cup of coffee. He was just about to try and relax with his coffee until Steve popped his head in with a grin.

"There you are! Tony was looking for you, we're all heading up now!" Bucky frowned in confusion while Steve grabbed his own mug, filling his cup.

"Why are we having a meeting" Bucky questioned, not willing to get up from his seat, his mind still preoccupied.

"He told you he scouted someone to join the team"

"I remember Tony going on about some new member" Bucky mumbled, not in the mood to meet new people, his anxiety only growing further. "That's today?"

Steve nodded, finishing up the last of his coffee while the brunette stayed glued to the stool.

"Buck, you coming?" Steve turned back to see a frowning Bucky, reluctantly trudging behind the captain while the others excitedly also made their way upstairs to the conference area.

"I heard Tony saying the new agent is scary as shit. Apparently he got his ass handed to him when he tried to test her and he was wearing his suit" Sam snorted while Nat smiled with excitement.

"Finally someone worth sparring with" The redhead nudged him while he shook his head.

"I'm serious! She's deadly deadly. I looked over her file, she's killed more people than you and Clint combined and half of those were hand to hand combat"

"What was the other half"

"Sniper. Like Barnes" Sam nodded to Bucky who was still disconnected from the others, his knee bouncing impatiently.

"We're lucky she's on our side" Steve mused, taking a glance of the file that sat on the table. There was no name or picture to go with it but it had a skillset record nearly put his to shame. "Jesus"

"You good?" Sam whispered to Bucky, noticing he was more closed off than usual, getting a tightlipped grimace like smile in return. Steve sat near the front, straightening himself up while the rest quietened down, hearing the sound of Tony speaking to someone as they approached the room. The billionaire opened the door, letting in the new team member first before entering himself with a large smile on his face.

"Everyone, this is-

"Y/n?" Bucky gasped, shoot up from his seat before Tony could finish, the other sharing confused glances between each other, watching the new team member and Bucky freeze.

"Wait, Barnes, you know-

"Malyshka, eto pravda ty?" [Babygirl, is it really you?] Bucky gasped, his heart hammering against his chest, tears already threatening to spill out. "kotenok, skazhi mne, pozhaluysta, chto eto ty" [kitten, please tell me its you]

"Hold up, he can still speak Russian?" Sam hissed to Steve who hadn't moved, mouth gaping, eyes wide.

"James!" You darted across the room to meet Bucky half way, his strong arms catching and lifting you up with ease as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "moy soldat. YA zdes', moy malysh" [my soldier. I'm here my babyboy]

"It's really you" He whispered against your hair, breathing in your soft scent, eyes squeezed shut with tears streaming down his face, "My baby" He cradled you tightly, refusing to set you down while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, drowning out the rest of the world. After you were torn apart from him, you had been locked up in an isolated cell, only let out for select missions Dreykov send you on. You wanted to find your soldier, your James, but you never did with Hydra keeping him under their control.

Now you finally had him again.

"Ahem, as I was saying- This is y/n" Tony addressed the rest of the team, just as surprised as the rest of them with all eyes on Bucky especially. "She'll be joining us once Barnes puts her down"

"Never" Bucky finally pulled away, still holding onto you, his nose nudging against yours, "M'never putting her down, never, you hear me babygirl?" He pressed his lips onto yours, shamelessly kissing you hard, ignoring the whistles that filled the room, only pulling away for air. You let out a shy giggle as he set you back on your feet, his hand wrapped around your waist.

"I'd continue to introduce her but I think tinman knows her better" Tony snorted, throwing his hands up before taking a seat, all eyes now watching two of you while Bucky blushed, unable to wipe the smile of his face, cupping your face to press another kiss to your lips.

"This is y/n" Bucky finally let you go, taking you to the front of the conference room, now proudly showing you off to the other, "She was a widow with Hyrda, handpicked by Dreykov" Bucky sucked in a breath before continuing, giving your hand a squeeze "I trained her in the red room myself when I was still the winter soldier. That's when I fell in love with her" The last part was a whisper, not missed by the team with how lovesick Bucky looked.

"I'm sorry, you trained her? Jesus, no wonder she's deadly" Sam shook his head, now understanding why your file was so impressive. You were already gifted when you were picked, coupled with the fact that you were trained and conditioned by the soldier himself.

"She's fuckin' deadly, alright" Bucky's voice was nearly breathless, his baby blues intently gazing into your eyes. "You should see her with a knife"

That's when I fell in love with you.

"So what happened with you two" Nat prodded, looking at you two with heart eyes which was a rare sight but her heart melted at how soft Bucky was, struggling to keep his hands to himself. He constantly nuzzled into your neck, his large form practically swallowing you whole as he clung onto you like a child.

"They found out we were together so they took me from him" You gave her a sad smile, feeling Bucky hug you tighter; you could have sworn you heard him whimper. "I tried to find him for years but I couldn't"

"Hydra tried to wipe my memories but it never worked. Couldn't forget her" Bucky kissed the top of your head, not realizing his bestfriend was trying to subtly wipe his eyes.

"I was going to have everyone introduce themselves but I think these two have some catching up to do so let's move this meeting over" Tony clapped his hands while everyone else nodded in agreement, leaving you and Bucky alone for some privacy.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea, I-I tried to find you but I just- I could barely function, I'm sorry doll-" Your lips cut off Bucky's rambling, cupping his scruffy face firmly in your hands.

"You have nothing to be sorry about baby, it's not your fault"

"I-I know you just got here and-sweets I don't want to rush anything but-" Bucky's hand gripped your waist while he tried to compose himself, he didn't want to pressure you into anything. "I need you closer baby"

"Take me, soldat" You whispered, not giving him any room to second guess as he hauled you up in his arms, taking you straight to his room. Clothes were off in an instant between frantic and desperate kisses. Bucky didn't rush a thing as soon as he had you naked in his bed, pulling the sheets over you both, rolling over to cuddle instead.

"This is all I wanted" He whispered against your shoulder, kissing your skin, "To have my girl with me again"

"I love you Jamie" You kissed his bare chest, hitching your leg over his waist, his hard length pressing against your soaked cunt. He could feel his tip weeping feeling your soft body pressed against his, still looking just as beautiful, if not more now, from when he'd first met you.

"Prettiest widow" He growled, his wandering hands becoming less wholesome as they moved to your hips, pulling you to press against his erection harder. You moaned feeling him starting to hump your pussy while innocently kisses down your neck, smirking at how he was both sweet and sinful at the same time, just as before. "kotenok, ty mne nuzhen" [Kitten, I need you]

You remembered all the times he'd snuck into your cell for a few cuddles, which always ended up with his hand slammed over your mouth while he railed you with his cock.

"You feel how hard I am for you baby? Mmph, this is all for you, doll" He bit his lip, eyes locked with yours, rolling on top of you, slotting his wide body between your legs, still rutting his hips. "Can I make love to you baby, please" He sounded desperate, dropping his forehead to press against yours, hands coming to pin you against the bed.

"M'yours Jamie" You nodded, spreading your legs wider, not bothering with having prep you, needing him inside you more than anything else. You gasped feeling his thick cockhead rub through your folds before he breeched your hole, stretching you.

"Soldat!" You moaned, your back arching off the bed, the name rolling of your tongue as it had so many times before, your nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Take your soldat's cock, kotenok" Bucky growled, only giving you a second to adjust before he started to move with slow, deep strokes. "Lemme make love to my babygirl, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu" [I love you so much]

After Bucky had been rescued, he had no reason to speak Russian, letting the others think it'd been wiped away just like the words that controlled him. Around you, it rolled off his tongue with ease, your pussy dripping each time he whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back feeling him hit that spongy spot deep in your pussy, crying out with the powerful, deliberate snaps of his hips.

"M'I making you feel good baby?" He asked, kissing you sweetly, alternating between the sweetheart and heartbreaker he was, looking at you with soft puppy eyes while his cock grew harder watching your face twist with pleasure. His jaw was slack, thrusting with purpose, moving his hips to roll and let you feel every inch of him filling you up, "You look gorgeous with my cock in you angel, wish you could see how pretty you are, so beautiful like this"

"Oh god James! P-please-m'so close-dont-don-t stop" Your moans grew more salacious, unable to say much else, eyes shutting out of pleasure feeling his hand coming down to rub your swollen clit.

"I know baby, I know, you need me to rub this pretty button, Remember the first time I touched you there pretty girl? How badly you wanted to scream, how much you squirted all over me? Remember when we first made love? First time I tasted you? Remember how shy you were when I spread your legs open and nursed off that little button. How you turned into a slutty kitten, riding and humping my face after? Know your needy little clit loves it, m'gonna rub you till you're screaming"

"Buckyyy" You whined, your face feeling hot at the memory, remembering his growls from under you, turning around to find him jerking his cock faster while he licked and sucked your pussy, cum already painting his abs from cumming once, working to a second orgasm. He'd sealed his lips around your clit, stuffing his mask in your mouth to keep you from alerting the guards.

"Baby, c'mon open your eyes, look at me" Bucky nipped your jaw, his cold hand coming to grasp your cheeks, blue eyes staring into your soul as you opened your eyes, "Don't you dare close them baby, keep em' open when I'm fuckin' you, shit, m'gonna cum for you doll"

"B-Bucky!" You cried, struggling to hold off any longer, your juices soaked him as you started to clench and squeeze his cock, tears nearly streaming down your face.

"Scream all you want baby, don't have to hide those pretty moans ever again" He fucked you through your orgasm, his own balls getting tighter with each thrust, precum mixing with your arousal, dripping onto the sheets, "Thats-that-s it baby, m'gonna cum so hard for you, fill you up, you're mine doll, you're fuckin' MINE"

Bucky's hand flew to the headboard, pounding you into the mattress, moaning loudly, letting the wood splinter under his grip as he came, pumping you full of his seed.

"FUCK y/n" He gasped, collapsing on you, panting, burying his face into your breasts as he always did, turning into a needy baby as if he didn't rail your soul. You giggled, tracing your hand down his spine making his shiver, whining when you clenched around his sensitive, soft cock.

"My soldat" You whispered, carding your fingers through his hair, letting him latch onto your nipple, needily sucking for comfort. No matter how big, bad and scary he was, he always melted into a puddle for you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your sweet peaked nipple against his tongue.

"Never letting you go again" He whispered before falling asleep on your chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. "ty moya rodstvennaya dusha, malyshka" [you're my soul mate, babygirl]

"YA by proshel cherez vse eto snova tol'ko radi tebya, malysh" [I'd go through it all again just for you baby boy] you whispered, closing your eyes in the safety of his hold, meaning each of your words. You'd go through everything a thousand times over if it meant you'd have your Bucky back in your arms. Bucky sniffled, curling up with you, spending the rest of the day alternating between speaking sweet words and making you moan and cry over his cock until you couldn't move any longer. For the first time, he slept peacefully, not stirring once.

Ever since you'd come back, Bucky had turned into the biggest simp, alternating between acting like a menace and a complete lovesick puppy with no in between. It was worse when you were on the field, almost leading to Tony refusing to let you both go on missions at the same time.

"Oh god" Bucky groaned, seeing you step out in your sleek suit, the dark material clinging to your body, weapons strapped along your hips. You threw him a wink before running off to kick ass, his focus solely on you.

"Jesus Christ" He nearly moaned seeing you land a kick to an attacker before throwing you knife across the room, the blade landing perfectly between your targets eyebrows. "Baby, you're sexy"

"For fucks Sake Barnes, did you forget we can all hear you" Tony's exasperated voice crackled through, this not being the first time the soldier was distracted watching you fight. Sam and Steve snickered through the coms while Bucky shameless shrugged, still biting his lip, watching you move with ease.

"Have you seen my girl, Stark" Bucky sassed back, walking over bodies to grab you by your ass, squeezing it and smashing his lips against yours.

"Are you two fucking kissing?!" Tony sighed, hearing the sound of soft moans and smacking, "I'm putting you on a fucking leash, I'm getting you fixed Barnes"

"My naughty soldat" You giggled, pulling away, nipping your boyfriends pouty lip while he shook his head.

"Gonna be the death of me, pretty girl"

"You're both gonna be the death of all of us" Tony deadpanned, unable to understand how there was a man out there that was more horny and flirty than him. "I'm having Barnes neutered, for fucks sake I can see you drooling from over here"

Bucky was even worse watching you display your skills, his workout long forgotten while you sparred with Steve.

"Where the fuck did you learn that" Steve groaned while you giggled, holding your hand out to help him up while Bucky watched from the side with a cocky smirk.

"I taught her that" He threw you a wink, not so subtly adjusting his sweats.

"Of course you did" Steve huffed, surprised to find bruises on his body from where you'd hit him. "Jesus punk" He blushed heavily seeing his bestfriends raging hard on, scrambling away from the gym, knowing exactly what would come next.

The loud moans he heard moments later made him shake his head, happy he got out of there unlike the last time he saw the warning signs of a feral Bucky.

Aside from being more in love with you than ever, Bucky was also equally protective over you. He'd hug you with such care, always holding your head to his chest, his large arms covering you from the rest of the world, constantly fearing that even if he had you now, someone would come and take you away.

When he finally asked you to marry him, he paused several times, blinking through tears while down on one knee, your hand wiping his cheek, saying yes before he could even finish. The compound was transformed with flowers, candles with a small intimate wedding in the garden.

Steve and Sam stood by Bucky's side while Nat walked with you, your sweet soon to be husband biting back tears seeing his dream girl in her dress, the life he'd always imagine finally becoming a reality. When Tony pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky didn't stop kissing you till he nearly passed out, not a single dry eye surrounding you as he whisked you up in his arms.

Bucky felt a strong wave of emotion watching you flit around the kitchen, making his way over and wrapping his arms from behind, tucking his face into your neck. You blinked, feeling tears wet your skin, pulling away to find your husband sniffling.

"Baby, what's gotten into you" You cooed with concern, wiping away the tears that collected along his lashes, kissing his reddened nose. "Is everything okay?"

"Just-m'scared to lose you again" Bucky whispered, his hand coming to protectively wrap around your growing belly; you weren't showing much yet but he could still feel the little baby bump. "I can't loose you again angel, I can't go through that again"

"It won't happen Jamie" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he picked you up, setting you onto the counter before hiding against your neck again, hugging you tightly. "What's wrong baby, what's gotten you so scared"

"Can't believe I got you back. I got to marry my dream girl. We're starting a family, you're giving me a baby, I-it feels unreal. M'scared I'm gonna wake up and you'll-" He bit his lip, shuddering at the very thought, "You'll be gone"

"Baby boy look at me" You held his face again, making him look at you, "Would you ever let anyone take me from you again?"

Bucky looked horrifying, francially shaking his head, he'd burn the world to ashes before he let that happen.

"Never. Never angel, no one is taking you or our baby from me" He stated firmly while you hummed.

"See? I'll be just fine. I have my soldat" You whispered, melting against his chest. "No one can hurt me when I have my soldat"

Bucky finally relaxed, carrying you off to bed, his metal arm protecting your belly as he pulled the covers over you both. No one would ever take his little widow away again.

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