#becca's thots

[becca-e-barnes]

Some days, nothing will do it for me quite like a filthy little breeding kink piece and you better believe it's one of those days.

I really don't see Bucky as the kind of guy who likes to pull out anyway. There's not much that's as exciting as pressing as deep into you as he can manage right before he finishes, knowing that you can feel him twitching and throbbing, shooting an impressive load right against your cervix. That's where he feels his cum belongs.

There's something about it that feels to fulfilling for him. At that point, it's so much more intimate than it would have been had he pulled out. He almost always has his forehead pressed to yours, putting in the work while he spills inside you, whispering filthy nonsense in your ear, totally aware that his cum will help him slide right into you when you feel like a second round.

But when you both start to play around with a little breeding, he's close to losing it with every thrust.

"You're taking it so well. Fuck, you don't know how perfect you feel." He groans, giving you deep, punishing thrusts. It's very hard not to feel a little obsessed with sex this good; the kind you'll be daydreaming about for the next few weeks.

"Holy shit, I'm so wet." You whine, acutely aware that you've left a wet spot on the sheets beneath you and it's only growing.

"That's how I like you. Wet and messy and ready to be filled up." Bucky's forehead drops to the crook of your neck, desperately trying to draw this out a little bit longer.

"Love feeling your cum drip out of me." You're practically whimpering, clinging to his broad back and shoulders.

"Maybe I won't let it drip out of you tonight. Maybe I'll keep you stuffed full. Anything that spills out of you gets fucked back in with my tongue. Want you feeling sure that I've knocked you up in the morning."

It's not something he's ever said before but damn, he loves what it does to you.

You grip his back harder, arching yourself against him, trying to press him into you.

"Please, oh fuck, please. I want you to give me a baby." You practically sound like you're begging and he loves it.

"Oh God, take it. That's it. Fuck, you're going to look so pretty carrying my baby." He stops thrusting, pleasure making his legs tremble as he spills his seed into you, making sure he's given you everything he has. All of a sudden, it feels like the start of a very long night.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Holly, ivy and my best friend's brother

AN: Here’s a little (late) festive drabble for dear @chrisdrysdale as part of the Thot Neighbourhood’s Tis the Season to be Thot-y gift exchange.

Beta'd by @lunarbuck and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Relationship: Pre-war Bucky x Reader (Becca’s best friend)

WC: 1k

CW: Fluff, mutual pining, minor angst, first kiss, minor innuendo

“Bunny! Get down from there!” 

The ladder wobbled under your feet as you reached up to try and hang the garland of greenery. It suddenly stilled, and without looking, you knew who to thank.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Your tongue crept out of your mouth as you leaned over a bit more, confident that the ladder was more secure now, with your best friend Becca’s older brother hanging onto it. 

With a small cry of success, the hanging loop on the back of the garland caught on the nail on the wall, and you started your careful descent. Two steps from the bottom and you felt Bucky’s warm and work-roughened hands settle on your waist, practically lifting you off and placing you on terra-firma. You tried to think chaste thoughts; he was off limits after all.

“What were you doing up there? You shoulda got me to do the climbing, Bun-bun.”

“Oh, pish, Bucky Barnes. If you know me at all, and you know me plenty, then you know that I’m not one of those who gets a man to do things just for the sake of appearing like a lady. If I can do it myself, I’ll do it myself.”

“You’ll get your neck broken, that’s what you’ll do, and then I won’t hear the end of it from Becca.”

You, Becca, and Bucky were busy decorating the community hall for the upcoming Christmas festivities. You and Becca had volunteered, and Winifred Barnes had insisted that Bucky accompany you to do any of the ‘heavy lifting’. The local ladies social group had put together lots of garlands and swags over the last couple of days, and they just needed to be mounted up on the walls and across the beams. Unfortunately, you, well Bucky actually, had run out of nails, so Becca had volunteered to go down to the hardware store and see if she could sweet talk young Joe behind the counter to let her have a few. You were well aware that she’d be more than happy to pay with a kiss if she had to.

But that had left you and Bucky here by yourselves, sorting out what you could while you waited. It shouldn’t have been a problem; you’d known each other for years as you’d made the Barnes household your second home. It was him who’d given you your nickname as well, for how scared you’d looked on your first visit to their noisy home. Unfortunately though, Bucky had grown from being your friend’s annoying older brother into your friend’s extremely attractive and charming older brother.

Whenever he was close to you or turned his swoon-inducing smile toward you, you just wanted a hole to open up and swallow you whole because you were so far out of his league it hurt. He had all the girls lining up for their chance to step out with him, and he always picked the pretty ones, the ones with the nice dresses, the beautiful haircuts. The ones who looked down on you, despite your closeness to the young man they all admired. Or maybe because of it? Either way, Bucky never looked at you in the way you wished he would. He thought of you as just another sister.

“So you wouldn’t miss me then?” You kept your tone light and playful, despite the ache deep in your chest. In two steps he was by your side, arm slung over your shoulder. 

“Of course I’d miss my best girl.”

Your heart lurched, but you kept your smile on your face and gave him a friendly shove. He didn’t budge though, and just pouted.

“Don’t be mean, Bunny, or you won’t get one of the candy canes I’ve got in my pocket.”

“Then stop with the idle flattery. Best girl, indeed.”

“But it’s not idle flattery if I mean it. And I do mean it, Bunny.”

Your smile dropped, and you pushed away harder, escaping his hug this time. You took a step away and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“You can’t say things like that to me, Bucky. It’s not fair. I’m not one of your pretty conquests.” Your voice trembled with the effort of not letting your emotions overrun you.

The next moment, he was behind you, enfolding you in his arms. You thought your heart was going to jump out of your throat. You could smell him, a mixture of hair pomade, simple soap, and his own earthy muskiness. You could also feel how the energy in the room had changed from the usual playfulness that was between you and Bucky to something else entirely.

“No, you’re not. And I’d never treat you like one of them either. You’re too precious to me, Bun.”

“Stop playin’ with me. Please don’t break my heart like this.” Your eyes were burning. Why was he doing this to you? And why couldn’t you just break free and walk away? “You’re a cruel man, James Barnes. It’s bad enough that you figure out how I feel, but to then make fun of me…”

“I’m not making fun. I’m trying to tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

He spun you in his arms so you were face to face. You wobbled with the momentum and reached out for stability to find your hands fisted in his shirt. You were almost nose to nose, your mouths closer than you’d ever hoped for.

“That you’re so special. So kind and caring and beautiful. And far too good for me. I’ve tried to keep my distance. You’re Becca’s friend, and I should think of you like a sister, but god help me, I can’t. I live for seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. I love you, Bunny.”

The small space between you finally closed, and his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. It only lasted a few moments, but when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Bucky. But I gotta ask, is that really a candy cane in your pocket?”

But Bucky just chuckled and kissed you again.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @poppunksnowwhite @pono-pura-vida

[yousta]

Hiii guys! (waves like Hinata to Delila)

i LAUGH WITH MY FALLEN BROTHERZ

RIP THE GUY I SAW THE NICK CROWLEY VIDEO

that shit was crazyyy in the 198000000s

i would've kill myself over dateline bbc in the 1980s

I'm lucky not to be like that movie the taxi driver

because he was kinda me in a way lol

i LOOKED AT SOME BITCH NAMED becca ONE TIME

at least i like to think i thot

I would've saved the 13 year old girl being kidnapped and pimped out from those 90s new work gangbangers too

FUCK YOU THOUGH rebecca I'M GOING FUCKING KILL YOU /j (joking)

Delila said it's fine guys, i'm okay :3 <3 ^^

[dear-indies]

I was wondering if there was a chance you could find a list of actresses/celebs for me? I have a female pirate, young mid 20’s, free spirited and wild. I was hoping poc/Latino/Polynesian like, curly brown hair and dark(er) skin tone. Anything you can though. If not that’s alright too, I have been scouring the internet :D

Joanna McGibbon (vibes in Shadow and Bone) Black British.

Olumide Olorunfemi (vibes in the Winter King) Nigerian.

Sophia Brown (vibes in The Witcher) Black British.

Zoë Robins (vibes in The Wheel of Time) Nigerian.

Kassius Nelson (vibes in Dead Boy Detective) Black British.

Erin Kellyman (vibes in Willow) Afro Jamaican / White - is a lesbian.

Zethu Dlomo-Mphahlele (in Black Sails) Black South African.

Son Ye-jin (The Pirates) Korean.

Maria Zhang (vibes in Avatar) Chinese and White.

Thaddea Graham (vibes in The Irregulars) Chinese.

Jessie Mei Li (in Shadow and Bone) Hongkonger / White - is a gender non-conforming woman who uses she/they - in Shadow and Bone - has spoken up for Palestine!

Anna Leong Brophy (I know she's older but her vibes in Shadow and Bone) Irish, Chinese, Kadazan.

Adeline Rudolph (vibes in Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and Resident Evil) Korean / White.

Brianne Tju (vibes in High School and Unhuman) Chinese and Indonesian.

Claudia Kim (vibes in Marco Polo) Korean.

Izuka Hoyle (vibes in The Outpost) Ugandan / White.

Josie Totah (vibes in the Buccaneers) Palestinian / Lebanese and White - is a trans woman.

Malese Jow (vibes in The Shannara Chronicles) Chinese / White and Cherokee.

Morgan Holmstrom (vibes in Outlander) Metis of Cree descent, Ilocano Filipino, Sambal Filipino.

Other suggestions:

Duckie Thot (1995) South Sudanese.

Joy Sunday (1996) Nigerian.

Courtney Eaton (1996) Chinese, Cook Islander Māori / White.

Chase Sui Wonders (1996) Tahitian, Chinese, Japanese / White.

Lovie Simone (1998) Ghanaian / African-American.

Laura Kariuki (1998) Kenyan.

Zamani Wilder (2000) African-American.

Becca Hatch (2000/21) Kamilaroi / Samoan.

There's also Amita Suman buuuuut I'm not comfortable suggesting her, she supports Gal Gadot even while advocating for climate crisis which is ironic considering Isr*els emissions.

Hope these help, though!

[nerdieforpedro]

Boo! Happy Friday! Hope you do something for yourself this weekend 🤍

Hehe! Thank you so much Becca! ❤️❤️❤️

I am! I’m out of town in NY and I went to a day of the NY comic con and took photos with….well 👀 Now I have an idea for maybe a fic with this guy:

If you don’t know him, we can just move on like nothing ever happened and chat more about how your Tim and Dave are doing. 😎

But if you do….know that I might have too many YouTube videos and TikToks saved and it’s a problem. I also keep my EarPods in just in case because everything he says sounds like an innuendo. 🫠🫠🫠

So yeah, that’s my weekend. 👀 Nothing…erm unusual. Well for me, having thots is normal. 🤣🤣

[sonofthedunes]

becca inspired me! inbox is open, send me your horniest luke thots

[bobfloydsbabe]

Helena.......I was gonna wait.....really I was, but you've tempted me like never before when you said send'em in and now the thoughts/thots are hanging over my head like the fecking bone on the collar stick belonging to Mulan's dog!!! (lol, sorry that was a little bit of a weird metaphor, I apologize).

I know I put it in the reblog of a post but I couldn't help but think of Bob's favorite painting being of the both of you as Oberon and Titania from Midsummer Night's Dream, getting married in a super old medieval church. The inspiration for it however came from a picture that one of your students took on a class trip to France when you and Bob were standing near the front of the altar in the Notre Dame Cathedral but while you were both reading the book to each other before bed that night, Bob sketched out the image of you and him as the fairy king and queen before transferring it to the canvas when you got back home.

After you guys get back home, Bob's probably got some serious downtime during the summer when he's not teaching and not only did that but he wanted to recreate Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" but as usual, during the modeling process, all Bob could think about was taking you right then and there on the living room floor (lol).

I'm not sure Helena but I think you, me and our dearest Becca have just created Frankenstein's monster........and I love it (lol).

We don't hold back in this house, so please, keep the thoughts and thots coming because I love every second of it!

Fun fact: A Midsummer Night's Dream is among my favorite Shakespeare plays (and not just because there's a character named Helena), so this is like music to my ears. I see all this so vividly, like a movie for just us, and Bob as an artist makes a lot of sense to me, actually. I think it's a very private thing for him, though, and one he only shares with a select few people. You just so happen to be one of those lucky people, and you're most definitely his muse. The object of all his desires and dirtiest dreams. The face and body that gets him going every single moment.

This man definitely has a breeding kink. He would love draw you as your body changes–watching your belly swell, your tits get bigger and heavier, even the extra pounds in your cheeks makes him go absolutely feral. He's insatiable when you're pregnant and he can go several times a day. He just loves you and your body so much, and the thought of you growing his child makes him feel some type of way.

In conclusion: We definitely created something truly special with this. It's definitely more the vibe high school teacher Bob than eccentric professor Bob, but I adore it regardless!

[lonewolfshayu]

I Watched The Society in 2023

I finished binge watching The Society a couple days ago, knowing it was cancelled before it got a second season.

1 I disliked Allie. And that goofy smile she did when Lexie was talking about how she had to undress in front of the Guard, that smile made me hate Allie even more. I can't stand her.

2 Elle is awesome. Her relationship with Campbell was awesome until the reveal that he's a violent psychopath who can't love her. Real bummer, because that was my favorite pairing in the show.

3 Grizz is awesome. I got a lot of respect for him when he opted out of killing Dewey. The guy has a heart of gold.

4 I actually like Lexie and sympathize with her.

5 During the tag football thing outside on the Thanksgiving episode, I loved the scene when Jason is scolding Will after he got tackled by Kelly. Man, I wish this show got a second season.

6 When they played Fugitives in the second episode, that was awesome. Too cool.

7 That girl in the green prom dress, Jessica, I wish we saw more of her. She was one of those minor characters I became fond of, even though she was barely in the show. She should've been a side character or main character. You cannot show a beautiful character walking in a ruined street while wearing a beautiful dress and not promote her to main character status.

8 When Sam scolded Allie and she was just looking at him, I LMAO'd.

9 I loved the Will and Kelly ship.

10 I loved the Allie/Cassandra sister bond. Like when Allie used herself as a human shield when Campbell pointed his gun at Cassandra. That's sisterly love right there. Allie was a bit of a jerk to Cass sometimes, though.

11 I loved the Gordie and Cassandra pairing. When he said he was going to learn to take care of her, man, my heart ❤️

12 Allie was right when she defended Campbell when Will wanted him executed. You can't kill someone for something they might do. People IRL want to punish people with mental disorders just because they might hurt someone in the future, which is wrong. You punish people when they actually commit a crime. Not before.

13 I love how Allie grieves Cassandra's death. How she lays on her death spot. This show didn't do the cliché non-stop sobbing. The writers made Allie mourn in creative, realistic ways.

14 Someone on Reddit said The Society isn't groundbreaking television, and the person didn't elaborate. How is this not groundbreaking television?

15 That nightmare about the Guard slitting Will's throat and shooting Allie. Pretty cool. And wonderful foreshadowing, considering the Guard betrays Allie and Will in the end. Also, Luke's girlfriend, Helena, was cool until Elle revealed that she (Helena) called Elle a thot. That was so weird and jarring, considering Helena seemed like such a nice character until that moment. Elle is a sweet angel BTW. She deserved better.

16 Kelly was awesome. But I hated it when she cussed out that one girl for saying generalizing men is wrong. Happened in episode 3 at the meeting building, I believe. Also, I had a short-lived theory that Harry and Kelly were brother and sister, because of the fact their parents were having an affair with each other. I figured Harry's mom gave birth to him and Kelly. I guess I watch too much House of the Dragon.

17 I knew the bus driver in the photos was going to become a big deal. I noticed how they kept showing his face whenever the school bus trip pictures were shown, and I knew this would be brought up later.

18 I wish Campbell got killed off.

19 I wish Cassandra lived. I do have to mention that I know she got killed off before I even watched the show. I spoiled it for myself. But I forgot who the killer was. The mystery surrounding the murderer was messing with my mind lol.

20 Wishing this show had more hugs. Allie and Cassandra didn't hug at all.

21 All Becca did was be pregnant. That seemed to be her only thing. She seemed more like a figment of Sam's imagination, since she hardly interacted with any of the other characters.

22 I really hate Allie's character. Kelly and Grizz should have been the main two characters. Also, Will is painfully bland as a character. At least Allie has some complexity to her. Will is one-note and his thing seems to be "I had a bad life" and nothing else.

23 The Society is a great show. It has some flaws, like having the painfully frustrating characters Allie and Will, but that doesn't make it a mediocre show. It's pretty good. And it needs a second season.

[theuniverseawakens347]

OMG ITS SOOO TOXIC HERE IM READING PRESTON THOUGHTS THINKING ITS MINE ( trying to get me to come back to sf FOR MORE BULLSHIT.. when I moved to Becca).. but also went to Tasha OREGON… AGAIN READING DAVID SMURTHWAISTE THOTS THERE FFOM PRESTON.. ORGANIZED.. $800 spent.. and I never showed up, INUITION SAYING NO GO… THINKING ITS MINE N TASHAS AND SAYING THEM OUT LOUD ..

WHY WOULD YOU POISIN ME LIKE THAT AT 11 SPIDER BITTE DOSE OF OVER STIMILATIONS AND NUMBING AT THE SAME TIME ..

I.. ITS LIKE SOMEONE KNEW SOMETHING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME N HOW TO PUT YOUR SHIT ON ME AND SAY IT WAS ME .. SO YOU RAPED ME FOR EXTORTION!!

[becca-e-barnes]

It might be toxic of me but I really love when men let their jealous, protective side out during sex 🤤

I love the thought of Bucky cradling his girl's face in one hand while he holds himself up with his other, driving his cock in and out of her while whispering the filthiest thing in her ear.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

"Can't believe a pretty little thing like you is all mine. You know you are. You're my girl. Nothing else could even make me feel close to how you do." His dick slides into you, as deep as it can possibly go before he draws back again. His rhythm is manageable but you're pretty aware that your fingernails are digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. It's not like you can be held responsible for that though.

"It's like you were made for me. Sweet and tight and wet and so fucking pretty. You're a dream come true." His self control never lasts too long and you feel the strain on it already. He wants to take you. He wants you squealing and whimpering and screaming his name so all your neighbours know who he is. He wants to make sure you go to work in the morning in a daze, unable to think of anything but the earth shattering orgasms he's dragged from your body. He wants to flood your body with his cum, filling you to the brim, claiming absolutely all of you.

"You're my pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks, using the hand on your face to guide you so your eyes meet his.

"All yours. Don't want anyone else." Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him close in a way that feels desperately romantic. His skin on yours feels perfect and you find you just don't want to separate, not even for a second. Feeling consumed by him doesn't concern you, instead it's comforting. It's lovely to be his; to be wanted and needed by him and to know he's yours in entirely the same way.

[beccastanz]

I guess eventually I should make posts for each of my fics, but I am still hopelessly attempting to figure out this website and also focusing on NaNoWriMo 🤣🤪

[lemurblog]

thots on clover/becca enemies to lovers?

ultimate star-crossed. clover beliebs in the system even when it hurts... becca opposes the system even when it works 😭 LMAOO

tbh they are very underrated by me! becca and abner are my favorite regular villains and their scenes with clover NEVER missed. the dynamic of country hick vs snobby posh tickles me. i also like that becca knows clover well enough to gain the upper hand by putting clover in situations where she has to choose between two values. a VILLAIN!

becca’s just so excited to be an attempted-assassin, and clover’s excited to have an assassin she gets to chase down, solve the clues, and defeat :) bc of that they’re weirdly MADE for each other

the issue about them going anywhere is the julien murder. once the playing is done, clover values that more than her own life. becca is giving it her all but it’s less personal, so she’s playing with clover’s whole world without giving it nearly that much thought. that’d be the underlying True Conflict more than the play of fighting. clover's a pain in the cactus bc she punches hard but in that light she also has good reason to punch hard

even so becca’s not manipulative or personally cruel, which is a change of pace for all of clover’s other villains. there’s an innocence & honesty to her that clover would know exactly what she’s getting into with this clown and her man 😭 like i’d improve it for myself by making them more personal about each other, but also becca’s charm is she’s more team rocket-level than koto’s level of harm. and their dynamic is funny to me because they treat it like high stakes but really out of love for the game

my truest answer is also that i love becca/abner together and frankly given my soft spot for clover + jumo and even clover + tedorothy, i am not immune to clover and a weird married couple lmao GET HER IN THERE

[avastrasposts]

Becca, I'd loose half my fingers if he was hanging around my kitchen... And I'm glad you appreciated the shirts! They're behind so many unholy thots that I had to include several of my favourites!

Thank you so much for reading and sharing, I love how you put so much thought into your reblogs! I wish I could hear your reactions live! ❤❤❤

A Baker's Dozen - Six

Hello!

I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...

I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.

Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.

Happy 2024 all you lovely people!

Series Master List

He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you. 

You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly. 

“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches. 

“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.  

“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave. 

“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more. 

“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?” 

The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.” 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.” 

He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street. 

He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway. 

By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. . 

On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off. 

The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.  “I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer. 

“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek. 

“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.” 

The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest. 

“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?” 

“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?” 

“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.” 

“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday. 

“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.” 

“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body. 

“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.

“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.

“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.” 

The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice. 

“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?” 

“Can’t I do both, cariño?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again. 

“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look. 

“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?” 

“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. 

“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?” 

“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.” 

“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet. 

“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods. 

“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly. 

He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. 

‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’ 

A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter. 

Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop. 

“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code. 

“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you. 

“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.” 

He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on. 

“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity. 

“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.” 

“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake. 

“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed. 

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little. 

“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?” 

“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk. 

“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.” He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?   

The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on.. 

Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in. 

“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response. 

“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick. 

“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.” 

“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“About that cake, querida?” 

The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out. 

“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter 

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake. 

“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.

“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat. 

“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?” 

“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods. 

“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.” 

“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?” 

“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….” 

He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue. 

“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile. 

“So how about that coffee, cariño?” 

“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?” 

“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.” 

You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.” 

“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate. 

“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing. 

He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.” 

“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.” 

You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.

“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.” 

Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows. 

“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.” 

“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him. 

“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.” 

He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down. 

“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt. 

“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there. 

“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?” 

You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own. 

Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head. 

“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward. 

His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated. 

You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth.. 

Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath. 

Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes. 

“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.” 

“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.

“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.” 

His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. 

“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought. 

“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.” 

“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.

“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.  

Part Seven

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

[kitsnicket]

Thinking about these lines from the hero of the story....do you realize you didn’t volunteer for anything, lemony? Do you realize you were forced?

[dabeautyleague]

[heavysoldat]

attention

tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: it’s been too long since you’ve been with bucky, and you’re desperate for each other’s attention. no obstacles, and i mean none, are gonna get in your way.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (no glove no love!), breeding kink, dirty talk, no plot, just filth. gets a little angsty at the end

notes: sorry for the long time no post, school & work are kicking my ass rn ngl. hoping to get into a regular writing schedule! took heavy inspo from some of @becca-e-barnes’ bucky thots because i fr cannot stop thinking about them.

Bucky’s chest moves up and down underneath the weight of your head, your thigh wrapped around his legs, holding the larger man down to the bed under you. His metal arm is tight around your waist, holding you protectively to his warmth, fingers stroking the exposed skin of your upper arm.

Some sitcom is playing on your TV — one you’ve been practically begging Bucky to watch. He doesn’t get half of the jokes, doesn’t understand why you love it so much, but he’ll do anything to make you happy, and anything to spend time with you.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in a few weeks. He’s been off on some mission with Sam and Torres, one he’s barely talked about, but you can concur it has something to do with some off-the-rails, self-proclaimed vigilante in Europe. You’ve already said your hellos at the door; a bear hug, kisses all over you, touching every part of skin he can reach, picking you up and tossing you down on your bed to wrap you up in his cocoon.

You know he needs to rest. You know he hasn’t gotten a break or a chance to lie down since he left. And you know he’s perfectly content just holding you for hours. You’ve just started having sex a few months ago, and even then it took him forever to muster up the courage; the man hadn’t been laid in decades, he was practically shaking the moment you even suggested it to him.

But you really don’t know how much longer you can ignore the ache between your thighs.

You’re sure he can sense it; those enhanced nose and ears of his, if he can’t hear how your heart skips beats he can for sure smell the arousal coating your legs and sticking to your leggings. It’s uncomfortable, really, the way the fabric of his jeans rubs perfectly against your heat — but it’s not enough. You need him. You need his skin, need his hands, need his cock.

His flesh hand glides up and down the expanse of your thigh, thumb rubbing oh-so-carefully, and it almost makes you snap. Almost.

Bucky nudges your head with his chin, prompting you to lift your head, gaze up at him —

His lips engulf yours, too harsh for their own good, practically teeth on teeth, but you really couldn’t give much of a shit. The way he grabs onto you, pulls you up and closer to him so he can kiss you harder, plunge his tongue in your mouth, it’s fucking exhilarating.

“I can fuckin’ smell you, doll,” He grunts, lips parting just for a second, “Drivin’ me crazy.”

“I can’t help it,” You practically whimper. “I missed you.”

He hums, nose bumping against yours, hands exploring your body just to squeeze your ass. “I missed you too. So goddamn much.”

You’re kissing again, breathing down each other’s throats as he pushes you to lay down on the bed, grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. You blindly search for the remote, shutting the forgotten TV off and tugging on his overgrown hair.

Bucky moves on to your throat, licking, sucking and kissing every square inch of it, marking you like you’re a canvas, biting down every so often just to hear the cries that escape you. His hands tickle underneath your shirt, grasping at your bra-covered breasts and squeezing.

“Bucky,” You moan, gasping, “James, I- fuck, stop teasing, please. Been too long.”

He literally rips your leggings off of your skin — torn fabric tossed to the side as he manhandled your legs up in the air, crawling down and in-between them.

“‘M sorry,” Bucky apologizes, but clearly doesn’t mean it. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

He splatters kisses all along your thighs, leaving one in the middle of your panties, right against your mound. Your thighs twitch over his shoulders, heel digging into his skin.

Pushing your underwear to the side, he licks a bold stripe from the bottom of your cunt to the top, engulfing your pussy into his mouth. He’s like a starved man — eating you like you’re his last meal on this earth, fingers gripping your legs so hard the tips turn white.

For a guy who comes from a time where women’s pleasure wasn’t in the spotlight, the man knows how to make you fucking quiver.

“Bucky,” You tug on his hair, making him moan against your cunt. The vibrations have you biting your lip, tossing your head back, but you’ll be damned if you don’t get your words out. “Fuck, please — I need your cock so fucking bad.”

Another loud, rippling groan against your cunt.

Bucky pulls away, face covered in slick, wiping it with the back of his hand, like an animal thats just devoured its prey. He crawls up your body, pulling you in for a kiss. You whimper as you taste yourself against his tongue.

It’s all a flash, you tearing the rest of your clothes off, and Bucky taking his hard and heavy cock out of the confines of his pants.

Your mouths are on each-other again, listening to his symphony of grunts as you work your hand up and down his length. He’s throbbing in your hand, hot to the touch.

“Fuck,” He groans, pulling away. “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I didn’t bring a fuckin’ condom.”

Fuck.

You used up all of yours the last time you saw him — and you didn’t buy any more. It was all so fast, he didn’t warn you about when he was coming back, he just showed up at your door— fuck.

“Fuck!”

Fuck.

You stare at each other for a second, his cock still hard in your hand, spit still dripping from his lips, hair still messy from your fingers.

“Just fuck me.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Just fuck me raw.”

His cock throbs at that. “You can’t say shit like that, doll, fuck.”

“Just pull out.” You’re pulling him down, kissing his face and wrapping him closer to you. “Just pull out, it’s okay — I need it so fucking bad, please. Just fuck me raw.”

He makes a noise you’ve never heard him make before, somewhere between a whimper and a moan. You can feel him lulling it over, eyes shut so tight you know all he can see is red.

“Okay. Fuck, okay.”

Bucky grabs the side of your throat, pulling you in to leave sloppy kisses on the other side, positioning himself at your entrance. You push his cock in with your hand, moaning as soon as he breaches your entrance, just the tip is enough to feel like you’re being ripped open.

He lets out a heavy groan, burying his face into your shoulder. You move your hands to his ass, pushing down to help him get even deeper. As soon as he bottoms out, you can feel the dull ache in you, nails lightly scratching against his skin.

“It’s so fucking good,” He’s already thrusting, shallowly pushing against your walls. “Oh fuck.”

The feeling of your raw cunt wrapped around him, no barriers in-between is indescribable. He can feel the pleasure crawling up his spine, your wetness dripping down his cock — he feels like he’s practically drowning in your pussy.

“Move,” You moan, “Faster, please.”

Who is he to deny you?

He goes faster, deeper, cock angled to hit just the right spot, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. All you can hear are the sinful sounds of skin-on-skin and his moans right up against your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, honey, always so so good for me, doll. Fuck, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good, I’m not- I don’t think I’m gonna last that long.”

You kiss the side of his head, telling him it’s okay. You reach your hand, as much as you can muster, between the two of you, rubbing your clit in circles to help you get there faster.

Bucky props himself up on his arms, hovering above you. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, pounding you into the mattress — “Yeah, baby, rub that clit for me. That’s so fucking sexy- You gonna cum for me?”

You moan as a response, rubbing faster, working yourself in tandem with his thrusts. “Yes, yes, gonna cum all over your cock, Buck. Fuck, I’m so close.”

He’s grunting, moaning like you’ve never heard him, eyebrows furrowed so hard as he tries his best not to close his eyes. He wants to keep looking, see how your tits bounce for him, see how you rub that pretty pussy for him, but the pleasure’s so overwhelming, he can practically feel his body yelling at him to just shut his eyes.

You cunt clenches around him in the way he’s so familiar with, but so different this time — your raw cunt contracting around his cock, squeezing him so hard like you’re trying to trap him inside.

“I’m gonna cum, Bucky, I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard, please!”

“God, yes, please,” He sobs. “Cum on my cock, honey, make a fuckin’ mess on me. I missed this pussy so fuckin’ much — couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you cumming around me, fucking jerked myself off every night thinkin’ about it, but it’s never the same — nothin’s ever the same as your cunt, honey, nothin’ feels this fucking good.”

You’re moaning, gasping, hand grasping the sheets so hard you think they might tear. The rope in your stomach rips hard, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. He keeps fucking you through it, keeps hitting that spot, and you can feel it building, feel it keep going, feel yourself cum harder than you can by yourself.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky whines, hips stuttering. “‘M gonna cum. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

You don’t want him to leave your cunt, don’t want to feel empty — so you wrap your legs around him, keeping him there, keeping him from pulling out.

“Doll-“ He stutters, “You gotta stop, I can’t- I can’t come in you, you’re not on birth control- fuck, I gotta pull out!”

“Don’t, please,” You beg. “Cum inside me, fill me up, please- I want it, want it so bad.”

“You can’t say that. Fuck, you can’t say that.”

“Fill me up, Buck- Shit, make me a mommy.” You’re whining in his ear, pushing him deeper inside you. “Please.”

He sobs in your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, his thrusts get faster, harder, the bed slamming against the wall with the force of them.

“You want it?” Bucky grunts, “Want me to fill you up? Fuck, was this your plan? Get me to fuck you raw, just so I could fill your greedy little cunt full? That what you wanted this whole time, huh?”

“Yes, yes, please!”

“God, you’re such-“ He grits, stopping himself. “‘M gonna make you a mommy. Gonna fill this cunt up so fuckin’ full, you’re gonna be dripping.”

All you can do is whine, nails marking his back, legs tight around his waist.

“Oh shit,” Bucky’s practically drooling, thrusts stuttering in pace. “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming — take it, fuckin’ take it all-“

With one hard, final thrust, he stills. His orgasm rips through him like a knife, filling you up with more of his spend than you know what to do with. His cum leaking out of you, flooding your cunt — he keeps cumming for what feels like minutes, just moaning, twitching, gripping you tight against him as he unloads into your body.

The force of his orgasm triggers another out of you. It’s lighter than the last, less intense, but it still leaves you trembling underneath him.

After a few minutes, your breath evens, bodies stilling. When he collapses against you, you push on his shoulder, giving him the cue to roll over.

Neither of you say anything when he takes you to the bathroom to clean up. You both hop in the shower, running it hot as you carefully wash each other, carefully skimming the scratch marks and bruises left on each other’s skin.

“‘M sorry.” He says, finally.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him. “What are you sorry for?”

“I got- I got rough, at the end. Got mean.”He mutters, avoiding your gaze. “‘M sorry. Shouldn’t have gone like that.”

You laugh, light and airy, cupping his face in your hands. “Bucky, I liked it. A lot.”

He finally, finally looks at you. “Really?”

You smile. “Yes, really. Don’t ever apologize for that, especially since I was majorly encouraging it.”

He returns your smile, and then gives you a kiss, softer than the ones you exchanged before. The water’s steam runs off your tired bodies, and you wrap yourselves in each other’s grasps, saving the rest of it for another day.