#beefy!reader

[holiday-house-of-m]

Natasha Romanoff x Tattooed!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Hiiiii I’m the one who asked for the tattooed reader with nat and I wanted to say thank you, I love it… I have another request… Maybe younger reader, who is a virgin, with nat who literally praises them throughout the whole thing and just kind of guides them… Not necessarily a totally innocent kind of reader, just that they don’t know exactly what to do. G!P or male reader would be great, just whatever you’re comfortable with, and if you can/want, reader has tattoos (if you haven’t noticed I’m kinda obsessed with them). Hope you had/have a great day❤️ (sorry if it’s kind of confusing, English isn’t my first language sooo yeah) 

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Read the original blurb here!

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[artficlly]

lessons in lovemaking [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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You never would’ve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. You’d seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadn’t even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted ‘husband’ ought to do? The super soldier looked like he’d rather swallow glass. He couldn’t even meet your gaze, for god’s sake.

What the hell had Fury been thinking?

You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strained—Help me, I’m being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wife—look on his face.

This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.

By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tight—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didn’t bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldn’t need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.

Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You might’ve found it cute under different circumstances. “You’re making this incredibly fucking difficult.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal—”

“Because it’s our cover, Barnes.” you snapped, incredulous. “We’re supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I don’t know—do our fucking job?”

Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“You’re unbelievable. Fury should’ve just sent me alone—” you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.

A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.

“Fuck.”

With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.

“No.” You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhere—your hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.

“Play along,” you murmured. “Kiss me. Now.”

“Wha—” His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.

Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like you’d just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpaste—spearmint—and the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If you’d been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.

An aftershave-scented stone statue.

The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, “Ah, young love.”

Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and then—

A sound.

Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.

You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt it—hard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.

Oh.

The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longer—just enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.

Barnes didn’t move.

For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realise—

Did he just—?

You both looked down at the same time.

And there it was.

The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.

You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.

Barnes didn’t wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.

—

It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadn’t left the goddamn bathroom.

It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy wood—subtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“Barnes.” You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this looked—lipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked men’s bathroom like a woman scorned. You must’ve looked thoroughly debauched.

Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?

You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.

“Barnes,” you muttered, knocking again—your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Open the damn door.”

Silence.

You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.

“Barnes, I have been patient.” You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.”

Silence.

Motherfucker.

"Alright, I’m coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, and—

"Make sure you're decent, Barnes—"

The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.

Barnes was not decent.

Not in the way you’d expected.

He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to you—

You felt your stomach drop.

Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.

Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.

"Hey, Barnes…” Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.

He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I don’t want you in—"

You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.

"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."

“No.” It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.

“Barnes, you need to breathe.”

Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirt—none of it mattered. It wasn’t your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.

“In through the nose,” you instructed, voice softer now. “Out through the mouth.”

By some miracle, Barnes listened.

He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Keep breathing, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Barnes,” you hesitated, watching his face carefully. “Can I touch you?”

His whole body tensed.

“What?” His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Is it okay,” you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, “if I touch you?”

Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.

The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.

Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt it—felt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.

“Keep breathing,” you reminded him, voice low and steady. “Nice and slow.”

Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzling—actually nuzzling—against your palms.

“There you go,” you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. “Look at me.”

His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.

“Tell me one thing you can smell right now.”

Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. “Smell?”

“Yes, smell.” You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. “Just one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.”

He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. “I guess… whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.”

A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. “Good. You’re doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.”

His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since you’d walked in, he wasn’t shaking as badly.

“This suit jacket,” he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. “It’s too fuckin’ tight. They always are with my arm—”

His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. “Just breathe, remember? You’re doing so well. One more thing you can feel.”

Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face. 

“You,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I can feel you. Touching my face.”

“Good.” You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t shaky. “It feels… it feels nice.”

Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. “Now, three things you can see.”

Barnes’ eyes scanned over your face, searching.

“You,” he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. “Your lipstick is smudged.”

"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.

Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.

"Uh…" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper… and the sink, I guess?"

You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.

"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"

At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.

You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "I’m going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself up—use the sink, use the soap."

His throat bobbed. "But my—my boxers, they’ll get all wet—"

"There’s a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and we’ll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"

Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "I’ll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everything’s okay."

Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.

The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.

The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.

You didn’t rush him. Didn’t make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.

Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.

Then—

Barnes cleared his throat.

You turned.

He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.

You didn’t give him one.

Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“There,” you murmured, satisfied.

You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a mess—lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.

Barnes hadn’t moved.

You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didn’t look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.

Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. “…Yeah.”

You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didn’t resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.

You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. “C’mon, sergeant. Let’s get out of here.”

Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded room—away from prying eyes.

—

A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.

A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was… strange. It wasn’t just a groan—it was strained, needy. Erotic.

Your eyes snapped open.

The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this time—a choked whimper thick with desperation.

Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?

Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.

Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnes’—

Barnes.

Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though he’d tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turns—one in the bed, the other on the couch—to keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Stark’s meddling.

You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnes’ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.

Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dream—more than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?

The realisation hit like a freight train.

He was having a sex dream.

Jesus.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You should’ve looked away, should’ve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downward—

“Barnes.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.

He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on you—standing there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.

His eyes flickered downward.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.

You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasn’t his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.

What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like this—or did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.

“H.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didn’t they?” you muttered.

Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Barnes, we’re not doing this again. Let’s just talk—”

The door slammed.

Then, the soft click of the lock.

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you should’ve been more sympathetic. Should’ve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnes’ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.

You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. “I know how you’re feeling.”

Silence.

You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “I understand what it’s like to be in a body that doesn’t feel like your own.”

A pause. No response.

“It must be hard,” you continued softly. “Not knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you don’t understand.”

Another pause. This one stretched longer.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to navigate that.” The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didn’t push, didn’t say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting. 

You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Room’s control, under Dreykov’s control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.

You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didn’t know. You didn’t know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.

But what did freedom mean when you didn’t exist?

There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that weren’t issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smile—to accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.

But how could you, when you weren’t sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?

So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.

Terrifyingly well.

The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldn’t touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.

“Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.

You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Yeah, not happening.”

“I know the others give you crap about not dating, but you don’t have to let them pressure you,” you continued, keeping your tone light. “You don’t have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.”

“Back in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I used to be a real flirt.”

A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasn’t the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece. 

“I just don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.

“When I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.”

A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.

“It’s all… fractured in my mind,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Scattered. Broken.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room… they didn’t just use us for assassinations and espionage.”

There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.

For the first time, the door cracked open.

Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a mess—damp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadn’t quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.

“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Because you’re hurting,” you said simply. “And obviously, you haven’t fully processed any of this.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.

With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you. 

“Have you spoken to Steve about this?” you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. “Sam?”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “God, no.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “It’s just... awkward. I feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “I could teach you.”

His eyes snapped to you, wary. “What?”

“I could teach you,” you repeated, voice steady. “How to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. You’re just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, jaw clenching. “Why the hell would you do that?”

You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. “Do you know how many men I’ve fucked and not felt a thing?” you said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“I wasn’t just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.” His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.

You swallowed, pushing forward. “It’s why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all I’ve ever known.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. “Fury knows what they did to you, and he still continues to—”

“I agreed to it,” you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. “He just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasn’t asking me to fuck you, just to perform. That’s what I do. Perform.”

Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Look, I don’t know you,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “I don’t want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I don’t know, self-sabotage.”

The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiled—actually flinched—before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.

Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didn’t, but either way, the damage was done.

Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinct—second nature, really. You’d spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. You’d built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you. 

Bucky wasn’t the first to speak to you like that. Wouldn’t be the last.

You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. “It was just an offer.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.

Fine. Message received.

—

The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was required—he held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasn’t as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.

Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleep—repeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. You’d gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, you’d be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Bucky’s constant, looming presence. 

God, the man had a staring problem.

You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realised—he wasn’t staring through you. He was staring at you.

You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. You’d catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.

And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.

The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You weren’t even sure it was in English. It didn’t matter. You weren’t watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch you’d been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, you’d be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Stark’s absurd wealth.

God, you missed Egyptian cotton.

Bucky was still staring at you. You couldn’t help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.

“Nothing—” he stammered.

You arched a brow, unimpressed.

“No. There’s obviously something you want to say.” You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. “Go on, spit it out.”

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.

You didn’t let up. “You sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while you’re at it—”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.“I shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all you’ve done.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Barnes.” The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm. 

“I snapped at you. And I shouldn’t have.” he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said, a little softer. “I haven’t exactly been… the kindest either.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like everything is okay. Like it’s normal.” His voice was strained, like he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was asking.

You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this—”

“But you get it, right?” He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. “To not know… who or what you are? Sometimes I… I just want to be normal again.”

You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your life—not anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you weren’t normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldn’t quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person. 

“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully.

His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.

“But I think,” you continued, “it would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve… Sam. You don’t have to face this all alone—Natasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. There’s no shame in it.”

Bucky’s face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, voice steady. “Just tell me... what is it you need right now?”

His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.

Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.

“I want to take you up on your offer.”

You tilted your head. “My offer?”

Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, low—like he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. “Lessons. Lessons in… love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing you—”

He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—light, amused, genuine.

Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.

You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.

“Of course,” you murmured, smiling. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—

“Is this okay?” you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Bucky’s lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Yes,” he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.

“Just breathe,” you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.

“What’s worrying you?” You asked gently. “Is there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”

Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold you. “No,” he said, his voice rough. 

“This is great, I—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.

You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. “Talk to me,” you coaxed.

His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself. Again.”

Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile. 

“You’re cute when you say things like that,” you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Now,” you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, “if you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?”

“Stop,” Bucky answered without hesitation.

“Good,” you praised, smiling warmly. “And if you can’t speak? If the words won’t come?”

His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythm—three distinct beats. You nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. 

“What about you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “If you want to stop?”

You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.

“I’ll do the same thing,” you assured him. “Just like we discussed.”

For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, “I’m… I’m ready. I think.”

You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw. 

“Okay. I thought we’d start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,” you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.

“I’m sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,” you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“Oh yeah,” he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, “until Steve became… well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.”

You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the world’s deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.

“You know…” he hesitated, voice quieter now. “You were my first kiss since… well, everything.”

Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin. 

“Well,” you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, “now I’ll be your second too.”

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didn’t pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into you—hesitant at first, but eager.

His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chest—halfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.

Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.

“Am I doing… okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again. 

“More than okay,” you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.

This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.

You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel him—hard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.

You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.

“I—” He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.

The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.

“I’m gonna—” His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldn’t quite form the words.

“I didn’t mean to finish so early—” he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.

“You did so well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” 

You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. “What… what about you? Don’t you want to…?”

You snorted. “That doesn’t matter. This was about you, not me.”

He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. “But I feel bad leaving you—”

“I’m fine, trust me.” You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. “We have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.”

Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant hand—warm and slightly calloused—ghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.

“…Thank you,” he murmured at last.

[buckyalpine]

Give me Beefy Bucky who is shy yet obsessed with how soft and little you are compared to him. Compared to his thick, wide shoulders. His meaty, firm thighs. His huge, heavy balls. His perfectly fat, split you in half cock.

“C‘mon bunny, put ‘em both in your mouth” he whines with puppy eyes, spreading his legs more while you nearly choke trying to fit his balls in your mouth. The delicious scent of his musk makes you moan with your mouth full, his heavy sac already throbbing. “Want you to suck them both at the same time”

“S’too big” you pout, cupping and rolling him in your palm, giving your aching jaw a break. He blushes at your words, his curved throbbing cock jumping against his belly.

“You have such a cute little mouth” he whispers with a soft smile, the pink on his cheeks deepening when you shove his thighs apart again, dipping your head to take them in your mouth, “oh fuck just like that, use that tongue, suck them nice and hard, don’t care if it hurts, suck them harder bunny”

He’s a feral little (beefy) fuck, holding your head in place while rutting himself against your face. The shallow breaths you take in between with your mouth full make his tip weep and he can’t help but reach down to stroke himself, using his thumb to spread his arousal around. When he finally can’t take it, he grabs and flips you onto your back, splitting your legs open and humping himself between your folds.

“Fuck you’re so tight bunny” he shudders above you as he pushes your thighs to your chest, folding you in half, making you hold your knees apart. He pumps his cock a few times while staring at your slick hole dripping and fluttering for him.

“Look at your little pussy” his voice is between a whine and a whisper, pressing just the head of his cock into you making you moan, his tip alone stretching you. He doesn’t even fucking move, pulling it back out and pushing just the head in, his lil caught between his teeth watching his perfect pink tip disappear in and out. “How are you gonna take all of me bunny,you’re already stretched open”

He’s not even taunting you. He’s blushing so much because he can feel the way you quiver around him already and he isn’t even inside properly. “Can feel you sucking me in baby, you want more? That’s just the tip bunny, so sensitive for you, m’already making a mess”

“More Bucky, fuck me, please” you plead with him, pulling your knees back further, tightening around him even more.

“Oh God” he plunges himself into you without warning, drawing his hips back and slamming them back in making your body bounce with each thrust. You sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with the powerful snap of his hips.

He looks feral, eyes fixated on where his cock disappears in and out with each thrust, your sweet mixed cream squirting out of you each time he shoves himself back in.

“Look at the mess we’re making together baby. So. Fucking. Pretty. You’re so pretty when you’re all stretched open bunny, pussy was made for my cock, you take big dick so well, you’re such a good girl, my good girl made for fat cock”

You nearly wail as he speeds up, panting and grunting, your belly bulging each time. He’s sitting back on his heels so he can watch exactly how much your pussy opens up for him, that needy button between your legs equally desperate for attention.

“Why’s are you so tight around my dick baby, can’t even last when I fuck you” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try and collect himself but it’s pointless. His cock starts to swell, drops of cum already starting to spurt out. He’s trying so hard to hold back but his body can’t stop moving, chasing the way your pussy chokes his length.

“M’mph-gonna cum-“ he chokes out, his movements growing sloppy and erratic, the bed banging the wall. “Gonna pump you full of cum baby, gonna make you wet the bed with how much cum drips of you”

“Cum in me Bucky” your nails dig in his shoulders, gasping when he sits back and spits onto your clit before rubbing it in circles.

“Such a cute little button making you scream so loud, you sound so beautiful like this” he gives it a pinch and you shatter around him, desperate squeals making him moan louder.

“Gonna milk my cock dry, gonna give you a thick load baby, there’s so much cum in my balls, in my dick, I can’t hold it, it’s so swollen, S-o sensitive- FUCKKK” he lets out a broken sob as he starts to throb ropes and ropes of his warm spend in you, the sheets soaking what your pussy can’t hold.

“Got the sheets all wet bunny, can feel it on my thighs-

Anyway. As always I’m sorry for this.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[embbarnes]

18+ MDNI | Just a quick thought...telling beefy Bucky one of my favs he has a pretty cock.

God you couldn't help yourself.

He was sitting there on the couch, that perfectly fitted henley outlining every curve and plane of his muscles, making you feel a burning need deep in your core. Your eyes were drawn to the growing bulge in his tight jeans.

The way he restlessly shifted his weight on the cushions, his meaty thighs pressing together and releasing in an unconscious rhythm, his fingers absently gripping the fabric beneath them. His arousal was unmistakable to your knowing eyes.

His desire was mounting with your own.

Curling up against his right side and palming him through the rough denim of his jeans, the heat radiating from his semi-hard cock warmed your palm within a second of feeling him. His dark, disheveled hair cascaded over his forehead in messy, slightly tangled strands, his features flushed as he releases soft, breathy pants into the quiet air between you. Those pretty pink lips, giving a slight pout as they remain parted for those gentle, desperate pants to escape.

The poor man is so pent up.

Decades of denial while being used constantly really fucked with him psychologically. He associated the intimate act of sex with pain and misery, complete humiliation and dehumanization, just another form of punishment until he grew to both hate and fear any kind of intimate contact. But with you patience and gentle love...he grew confident enough, comfortable enough, to allow you to touch him.

He shifted restlessly, gradually allowing his legs to part wider as you continued your gentle ministrations, palm pressed firmly against him over the fabric. His jeans acted as both a barrier and a source of delicious friction, the sturdy material keeping him safely confined while still allowing him to enjoy your touch without triggering his usual anxieties about intimate contact.

Though the layers between you provided some sense of security, he was increasingly unable to resist the building desire for more intimate contact. The way he struggled against your palm alone made you wonder just how he would get when he was bare.

"Babydoll, please," he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathless, needy tone that revealed his growing desperation. His tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips, leaving them glistening in the dim light as his breathing grew more ragged.

A deep flush had spread across his cheeks, painting them a lovely shade of pink, while his heavy-lidded eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused expression. The poor, needy man was completely lost to sensation, his hips jerking up slightly into your hand.

"Oh, baby...you're so needy already. I've barely even touched you." You cooed gently, watching his reactions with rapt attention as your hand applied more deliberate pressure to his crotch. His erection strained harder against the confining denim with each teasing touch, making his breathing grow more ragged. They felt so tight now.

"Get 'em off," Bucky whined desperately, his head falling back against the soft cushions of the couch. Sweet, delicate whimpers spilled from his parted lips as his trembling fingers fumbled clumsily with his button and zipper, struggling in his heightened state of arousal. The burning need coursing through his body was overwhelming - he wanted to cry from the intensity of it.

You smiled at his sounds, helping the man out of his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free - slapping his abdomen as it stood at attention. The poor thing was so swollen and glistening with precum, the head shining and beading translucent pearls. He was panting, squirming and trying to encourage you to touch him.

"You have such a pretty cock, baby," You took it in your hand, carefully angling it so your thumb could pop those little precum bubbles and spread them all around his tip. Bucky whined, his hands fisting the couch cushion as his back arched sightly. Cute little pants left his lips as his hips threatened to thrust.

"Doll, nngh, d-don't...tease." He strained, looking at you with watery eyes, adorably blushed cheeks, biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. "I need more...please, stop teasing -"

"Shh, sh, I've got you sweet boy, let me take care of you..." Your voice was so smooth and sultry, his cock twitched in your hand as you continued to gently rub the pad of your thumb on his tip and using his excessive amount of precum to lubricate the rest of him. Your hand soon moved up and down his length with ease, gently applying pressure around those delicate spots you knew he loved.

You were driving him crazy.

"Pleasepleaseplease -" Bucky was completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, his brow deeply furrowed as his body moved instinctively, driven by pure need and desire. Your hand was thoroughly coated in his arousal, a steady supply of glistening beads and pearls continuously dripping down and creating a warm, slick lubricant between your hand and his cock.

"I've got you, I've got you...just let it go for me." You leaned closer, your breath ghosting across his heated skin as his hands desperately grasped and kneaded into your body. His hips moved in an increasingly urgent pace, the previously steady rhythm of his rutting growing more and more erratic and desperate as his approaching orgasm began to overtake him, causing his thrusts to stutter and falter.

"I'm close, I'm close doll," He managed through his panting and soft moaning, "Don't stop, don't stop...aah right there!" He pleaded and begged for that one spot. He loved it, teasing the underside of his cock while simultaneously rubbing the swollen head, it only took seconds.

The way his head falls back against the cushions, letting out a beautiful symphony of strangled moans and desperate cries that rip through his throat with increasing intensity - all perfectly synchronized with the thick white ropes that shot out in strands from below. The warm fluid coated your hand and splashed across his bare, trembling thighs as his hips continued bucked uncontrollably throughout his orgasm.

He panted heavily, chest heaving, as his tense, quivering body finally melted back into the soft embrace of the couch, completely spent after the overwhelming wave of pure ecstasy washed over him.

"Ah...hah...fuck..." He breathed out between ragged gasps, sitting there weak and thoroughly dazed, his hair now disheveled and sticking to his glistening forehead, matted slightly with the light sheen of sweat that had formed at his brow. You loosened your grip and let him go gently, feeling him slowly softening in your hand as the last few aftershocks rippled through him.

His cum coated your hand and you observed the mess he made as he slowly recovered, "Guess you like being called pretty," you teased with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky peeked his eyes open and looked at you, he saw his mess but he didn't comment about it. He was still a little out of breath, but he managed a huff in between. "Shut up..."

I love CW Bucky sm I want to do so many things to him. Anyway I hope you like this thought I needed to write it down real quick. I didn't read over it sooo don't mind that lol.

Thanks for reading <3 -em🌿

[bucksfucks]

going through some more drafts and i need to word vomit about beefy!bucky because i’ve rediscovered him and good god im a whore

anyways, this man is huge. like huge. in my mind beefy!bucky is like 6’5 and 280 pounds of pure muscle and he knows exactly what he does to you and that man is nothing but a tease.

especially if he’s your roommate and you’ve only ever crossed that bridge when you’re drunk and a little too giggly and you end up in his bed where his hips meet yours over and over again. whispering “taking me like such a good girl.” and “that’s it sweetheart, you look so pretty under me little one.” or “shh, you can take me. i know you can sweetheart.” and his movements are a little sloppy because he’s drunk and maybe he’s slurring his words just a little bit and his eyelids are heavier than normal as he watches himself slide in and out of you with blown pupils.

which means he always knows how to rile you up and he does so without fail. maybe this is when he presses you up against the counter and he is so much bigger than you it makes you shiver when he whispers “i could bend you over this counter right now and i bet you wouldn’t even try to stop me, little girl.”

or when you’re not getting your way, especially in the bedroom, and he just sits back relaxed and looks at you “if you want it so bad then come and get it, sweetheart. it’s all yours after all.” and his favourite way to tease you is to watch himself slide in and out, admiring the way your tummy bulges with him inside muttering “gonna fuck a baby into this belly. fill you up so you’re mine forever.”

[lanabuckybarnes]

Sergeant’s Got You

18+ Minors DNI

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

Note: I was asked for something like this, so it’s heavy on the love for his dog tags

Pairing: beefy Bucky (but he’s got that fatws attitude) x reader

Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (I’m a slut for it), you like Bucky’s dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, he’s rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*

You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a ‘you tried’ look on their face.

Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldn’t stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.

“You alright sweetness?” Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.

You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldn’t. It’s just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.

You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.

He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.

“You know you gotta use your words sweetheart” One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.

He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didn’t care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.

He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.

“You’re a little slut ain’t you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, you’re so lucky I don’t make you clean it up” he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.

He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.

He wasn’t stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.

“You want me to fuck you cute girl?” He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.

“Words Sweetheart, I need words” He knew it wouldn’t be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.

“Please” fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.

“Please what sweet thing?” he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.

“Please use me Sir” you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up it’s fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.

“Fuck! You’re making me go crazy” he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didn’t want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.

Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.

“What do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick… you want it bad don’t you?” You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.

“Yes, yes please. Use me” he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.

He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.

Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.

“With your mouth sweetness” his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.

Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.

His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.

“God” he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free “look at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?” His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.

You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.

“Fuck sweetheart, good girl” he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shorts— you didn’t doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floor— he’d have a field day making you clean it up.

“God you’re so good, ha— making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into you” You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.

“Shit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come on” He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of you’re soaked panties.

“Fuck girl, who’s got you like this hmm?” His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.

“Mmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby… bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?” He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lust— nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else saw— no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.

“Please Buck, just your cock I don’t care just please” you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didn’t want to cum without him filling you out.

He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying already— he’d barely fucking touched you— he couldn’t wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.

He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Bucky’s muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.

His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Bucky’s fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.

“Mmm so sweet, if I wasn’t so fucking horny I’d make you cum all over my face… make you soak my mouth, shit” he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, he’d done it before.

His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.

“you ready sweet thing?” He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.

You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.

Bucky wasn’t much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.

“Ohh good girl, that’s it mmmm shit you’re fucking clenching me tight baby” Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.

“I’m so-“ you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.

“Don’t you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ain’t you? I fucking love you” His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.

“Can I move baby?” He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.

He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight you’d squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.

He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.

“Shit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut aren’t you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe I’ll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when you’re riding me, let them fucking swing between those tits— god you’d love that” Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Bucky’s dick and thighs— probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.

With one final thrust Bucky’s moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.

“You were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking good” he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.

He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.

“Oh my god” you whispered in disbelief against his head.

“What?” He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.

“The sheets are ruined, I can’t believe I did that” you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.

“It makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no one” he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.

His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.

You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each other’s presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.

“What? what’s got you all giggly?” he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.

“Nothing… just… were you being serious?”

“About what sweetheart?” He eyes you curiously.

“About letting me wear your dog tags” you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.

“We’ll discuss it later” he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.

Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Bucky’s embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.

-

So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.

I’m a little nervous to post this one idk why.

I hope you enjoyed x

(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)

[parkjammys]

Jason Todd sketches by Daniele Di Nicuolo at NYCC

[gojosprettyprincess]

I CANNOT stop thinking about getting pounded against the wall by pyramid head, the only thing keeping you still against it so you don't fall is his big strong hand choking your neck soo tight that you could barely even breathe while your leg is wrapped around his hips and he's pistoling his fat veiny cock so deep inside of you with every hard thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix and exploring your tight walls with every rut of his hips against you, oh and it's big, it's long and so fucking thick it stretches your cunt so wide and open around him. He fucking ruins you and obliterates your poor little hole for anyone else that's gonna have you next so the only thing that your pussy would be useful and good for is his cock and his cock only, that's how much he stretches you and craves your hole, into a perfect match for his girth.

You're moaning and screaming but what's the point? It's not like anyone can hear you, you should’ve never let your curiosity get the best of you because who knows? Maybe no one is ever gonna see you again because he's gonna keep you there with him and fuck you and use your (his) tight hole whenever he fucking wants and feels like it to please himself, your his little plaything now, his little cum dump to fuck and fill with his load over and over again.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

The First Time

Pairing || Beefy!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || Bucky takes your virginity.

World Count || 3414

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, pet names, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, protected vaginal sex, oral (female receiving), mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Beefy!Bucky Masterlist

You and Bucky had been in a relationship together for three incredible months now. Before that, you and he had been friends for two years. You have had a crush on him for what felt like forever, your heart skipping a beat every time he smiled at you, but you never had the courage to do anything about it due to your previous relationships.

It took a little matchmaking from your mutual friend, Natasha, who knew that you were both pining for each other, for Bucky to finally ask you out since he had been holding those same feelings for you all along.

One of the reasons that it had taken him such a long time to ask you out was his deep-seated insecurities. The weight of his past still haunted him, and he was terrified that you would end up hurt because of him. But you wanted nothing more than to be with him.

You cherished every moment of your friendship with Bucky, but these past three months of dating had been absolutely magical, filled with tender moments.

One thing that had been absent in your relationship was sex. Bucky was incredibly attentive to your comfort, never once pressuring you with the topic of sex, always letting you set the pace.

During those heated make-out sessions on his worn leather sofa, when his touches became more passionate and his breathing more ragged, he always stopped to check on you, his blue eyes filled with concern and care. When you told him you weren’t in the mood, he would simply kiss your temple softly, pull you close against his warm chest, and hold you there, making you feel safe and cherished.

But you hadn’t been entirely honest with him about something important. The real reason you avoided taking things further during passionate moments was your virginity. Past experiences had made it difficult to open up about it because previous boyfriends had mocked you for it, leaving you with deep trust issues.

But Bucky was different, you knew it. His gentle soul, caring nature, and dedication to your happiness and comfort made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before. Tonight, you were ready to open up to him. You were ready to share this intimate truth with him and hopefully take this next step in your relationship together.

You found yourself on his sofa after an exhausting day at work. Your lips moved together in perfect sync as his strong hands, flesh and metal, held your waist with just the right amount of pressure. Your fingers were tangled in his soft hair, keeping him close as you lost yourself in the moment. The movie playing in the background became nothing more than white noise.

His lips felt incredible against yours, soft yet demanding, as his hands explored your curves with touches that sent tingles through your body. The desire to go further, to feel more of him, was overwhelming. It was stronger than you have ever felt before.

But that familiar voice of insecurity whispered in the back of your mind, bringing a wave of anxiety with it. What if Bucky was just like the others? What if your virginity was a deal-breaker to him? Deep in your heart, you knew he would never react that way.

When his warm hand slipped under your shirt, slowly inching higher towards your breasts, you forced yourself to pause.

“Bucky, wait.” He immediately pulled back, his blue eyes meeting yours with concern, panic flashing across his features. “I’m sorry, doll, if I went too far.” His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his face portraying genuine worry and apology.

“N-no, it’s not that. I-I liked that, I just… I need to tell you something.” He nodded encouragingly, his patient silence giving you the strength to continue.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m a virgin,” you whispered, ducking your head in embarrassment. His fingers gently caught your chin, tilting your face back up to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared and ashamed that you… that you may not want me if you knew,” your voice trembled as you poured out to him, and despite your best efforts to stay composed, a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Your past rejections weighed heavily on your heart in this vulnerable moment.

“Don’t want you?” He shook his head, his expression softening as he caught your tear with his thumb. “I want nothing more than you, doll. I hope I’ve never made you uncomfortable. I never want you to feel pressured to have sex with me. Never.” His voice was thick with emotion, so full of sincerity that it made your heart flutter.

You surprised him with a sweet kiss. The moment couldn’t have been more perfect—his acceptance lifted a weight you had been carrying for so long.

“You’ve never pressured me, Bucky. You have always been respectful and understanding.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaning his body against yours, his warmth and comfort enveloping you. “How about we just cuddle tonight?” His hands tenderly cupped your cheeks as he placed a feather-light kiss on the tip of your nose.

You shook your head, bringing his lips back to yours in a passionate, searing kiss. The desire coursing through your veins was overwhelming—you wanted him more than ever, you needed to feel him completely.

“I want you, Bucky. I’ve never wanted anything more. Please…”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you’re not ready. I can wait for as long as you need.”

“I’ve never been so sure of something in my life as this. I trust you completely.”

In one fluid movement, he pulled you to straddle his lap, making you gasp. The atmosphere was growing heavy with your shared desire and anticipation.

“Say it again, doll,” he murmured in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I want you, Bucky. Please.”

He picked you up with strong, sure hands, making you shriek with delight as he carried you bridal-style to his bedroom. Laying you carefully down on the plush mattress, he pressed his warm body against yours, and you reveled in the delicious weight of him on top as he kissed you breathless. His kisses were deep and passionate, filled with such pure adoration that your heart fluttered in your chest.

He reached back and tugged off his red Henley, revealing his perfect physique inch by tantalizing inch. Bucky wasn’t just painfully beautiful, he was also hot. Your fingers itched to trace his skin, to feel his perfect body. Next, he slowly removed his pants, leaving him only in his tight black underwear. The impressive outline of him was clearly visible through the thin fabric, making your breath catch.

“Can I please undress you?” His voice was husky with desire but still gentle, his hair falling over his eyes.

You nodded eagerly while biting your bottom lips, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Although desire coursed hot through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel shy at the thought of being completely exposed before him. Bucky, ever so attentive, sensed your slight hesitation.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, doll. We can take things slow. At your own tempo.” His eyes were soft with understanding.

“I want to keep going. I-I’m just a little nervous,” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek while your fingers fidgeted.

He traced your brow with the pad of his thumb, his touch feather-light and soothing, his voice warm and reassuring. “We’re in this together, You and me. I want to make this as perfect and comfortable as I possibly can for you.”

“Keep going, please. Undress me and make me yours.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but filled with trust.

With a quick, tender kiss to your lips, he helped remove your clothing piece by piece, his movements slow. As each article was discarded, his eyes grew wider, a dark mixture of adoration and burning hunger. He left you bra and panties on, giving you time to get comfortable. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on,” he breathed.

He kissed you passionately before his lips began a torturous journey downward, leaving a trail of heated kisses across your neck, paying special attention to that sensitive spot underneath your ear. His lips and tongue worked together perfectly, making you hum as your fingers threaded through his hair. The path of kisses led him to the valley between your breasts, where he paused to look up at you for permission, which you gave. His hands, one warm flesh and one cool metal, reached underneath you to unclasp your bra. Once removed, his attention was on your exposed skin. He worshiped every inch with his lips and tongue, and when he finally took your sensitive nipples into his mouth, altering between gentle sucks and teasing flicks, you couldn’t help but arch into his touch and release a breathy moan.

He looked up at you, his lips parted and pupils dilated, and hair falling deliciously over his face. Your eyes widened, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your vocal response, but Bucky’s reassuring smile immediately put you at ease.

“I don’t want you to hold back. Make any sound that you want so I know what makes you feel good. I want you to enjoy yourself, doll.” His voice was rough with desire but still so tender.

He continued his descent, placing open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, each touch and kiss sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The further down he went, leaving a trail of heat in his wake, the more your legs parted instinctively, anticipating what was to come. Your body seemed to know exactly what it wanted, even if your mind was racing with nervousness.

Once he was finally nestled between your open legs, he looked up at you through hooded eyes, his breath ragged and pupils blown with desire. “Can I taste you?” He murmured, his hot breath fanning across your covered core, making your back arch slightly and goosebumps ghosting your skin. You frantically nodded, your whole body trembling with anticipation, needing him to continue, wanting desperately to feel his mouth on your most intimate part.

He carefully, and slowly, pulled down your panties, his metal hand cool against your heated skin. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You have never gone this far before, but you trusted Bucky completely. You knew he would take care of you.

Bucky’s tongue traced his lower lip as he saw you bare and exposed, already wet and ready for his mouth. He spread your legs wider with gentle but firm hands to get a perfect view of your pussy, his eyes darkening at the sight before him.

“So beautiful,” he murmured while placing soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh, slowly working his way towards your waiting pussy. When his tongue finally licked a broad stripe up your center, he kept his intense gaze locked on your face, studying your reactions to learn what made you feel good. You let out a surprise gasp at the unfamiliar yet incredible delicious sensation. He did it once more, this time slower and with more pressure, and you threw your head back into the pillows while gripping his dark locks between your trembling fingers.

“O-oh, t-that’s good,” you moaned breathlessly as Bucky worshiped you with his mouth. His lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, expertly switching between sucking and flicking with his tongue, while his metal hand held your hip steady to keep you from squirming. Your senses were completely overwhelmed with pleasure, every nerve ending on fire. If he kept going at this pace, you were going to come embarrassingly soon, but Bucky took notice and suddenly released you. You let out a frustrated whimper as the pending orgasm was ripped from you, your body still trembling with need.

“Hmm, you taste absolutely incredible, doll. The way you respond to me drives me wild,” he murmured against your inner thigh, his hot breath making you shiver. “As much as I would love to feel you come undone on my tongue as I watch you fall apart, I need to be inside you. I want us to come together, want to feel you wrapped around me when we both let go.”

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together desperately as you savored the taste of each other. His metal hand cupped your cheek while his flesh one traced patterns on your hip. “Don’t move,” he murmured against your swollen lips. “I’ll go get a condom.” He gave you one last lingering peck before pulling away and disappearing into his bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around frantically for the item, cursing lowly under his breath as more drawers were opened and closed on his mission to find a condom. A few moments later he emerged with it in hand, a victorious smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he climbed back on top of you, immediately claiming your mouth in another fierce kiss that left you breathless. With trembling fingers, you tugged at his underwear, helping him shimmy out of them. Your hand experimentally wrapped around his length, making him groan deeply against your neck. His mouth fell open as you slowly moved your hand up and down his impressive cock. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and a flutter of nervousness passed through you as you wondered how painful it might be for your first time. But that anxiety was quickly overshadowed by pure want. You needed to feel him inside you, needed his passionate kisses and whispered praises in your ear. You trusted Bucky completely, knowing that he would be gentle and considerate. That he would take care of you like he always did.

You released him from your grip so he could roll the condom on, watching with hooded eyes as he prepared himself. Before you knew it, he was positioning himself between your thighs, his tip pressing against your entrance as he looked deep into your eyes, silently asking permission one final time. “Please,” you breathed out, running your hands up his strong arms. “I’m so ready, Bucky. Please, I want you.”

He slowly pushed inside your tightness, the initial stretch making you whimper and shut your eyes at the slight burning sensation. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to his size, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Are you OK? Do you want to stop,” he asked with genuine concern, his flesh hand tenderly cradling your face while his metal one held him upright, the plates whirring softly with the strain of holding back. His eyes searched yours intently, ready to pull away at the slightest sign of stress. “N-no, please keep going. I need you.”

When he was fully situated inside you, stretching you deliciously, he took his time to kiss all over your face—your forehead, your closed eyelids, your warm cheeks—making you giggle. His stubble tickled your skin as his journey of tender kisses ended with an achingly sweet one to your lips. “I love you, doll. Thank you for trusting me with this, with everything.”

That was the first time he had said those three precious words to you and it made your heart almost burst out of your chest. “I love you too,” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands and stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs, “now, please move. I want to feel you take me and make me yours completely.”

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside before pushing back in with excruciating slowness, making you moan and cling to him tighter, your nails leaving marks on his broad shoulders. He repeated this careful motion several times, each thrust helping your body adjust to his impressive size.

“Please, Bucky,” you breathed against his lips, your legs hooking around his waist to pull him closer, begging him to take you properly. Your heels dug into his lower back as your body arched underneath him. He let out a deep, throaty groan that sent shivers down your spine and buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin as his hips began to move with purpose against you.

“You feel incredible, doll,” he groaned against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your heated skin, making you whimper sweetly. Bucky took notice of your reaction, adjusting his hips until he found that perfect spot that made you see stars. your whole body trembling underneath him.

He rested his forehead against yours, his blue eyes, dark with desire, gazed deeply into yours as you climbed higher towards release together. Your fingers tangled in his soft brown hair, tugging lightly as his flesh hand snaked down between your bodies to where you were joined, his skilled fingers finding and circling your sensitive clit. The dual sensation of him stimulating your clit and the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot made your whole body sing with pleasure, your back arching off the bed. “Oh f-f-fuck, I’m so close, Bucky. Please don’t stop.”

He maintained a steady, passionate rhythm, determined to make you fall apart around him. The thought of him being the first, and hopefully only, to ever make you come undone like this had your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges as pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

“Come for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough with desire. His words sent electricity down your spine and that was the final push you needed. Your pussy pulsed around him as waves of intense pleasure took complete control over your body. You threw your head back against the pillows as stars exploded behind your vision, your fingers digging into his shoulders. With one final, deep thrust, he spilled inside the condom while burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath and muffled moans of pleasure sending shivers across your skin. He continued to move against you with slow, gentle thrusts, drawing out both of your highs until you were shaking underneath him.

As you both started to come down from your shared orgasm, he pressed a series of soft, loving kisses to your lips, making you hum in delight. You hissed at the loss when he carefully pulled out of you, immediately missing the feeling of fullness. He rolled to the side, discarding the condom, before pulling you close, tucking you perfectly against his warm chest. You nestled into his embrace, ear pressed to his chest where you could hear his calming heartbeat, as he traced gentle patterns across your back with his fingertips.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing as you basked in the afterglow of your shared bliss, savoring each other’s warmth and tender touches. After several minutes of comfortable silence, you were the first one to speak.

“That was absolutely incredible, Bucky,” you whispered against his chest, tilting your head up to meet his adoring gaze. “Thank you for being so sweet and caring, and for making my first time more special than I could have ever imagined.”

“Always, doll,” he responded with a tender smile, his metal hand coming up to gently pinch your chin as he guided your lips to his for a slow, deep kiss. “Thank you for trusting me. I feel like the luckiest man alive to be the first, and I hope only one, to ever make you come like that.”

You giggled softly against his lips, pressing another kiss to them before dropping your voice to a sultry whisper. “Well, lucky for you, Mr. Barnes, you’re the only one who will ever be allowed to make me come like that for the rest of our lives.”

“Hmm, is that a promise, doll?” He playfully growled, his eyes darkening with renewed desire as he swiftly rolled on top of you once more, caging you beneath his strong body. “Because I intend to spend the rest of my life proving just how lucky I am to do so.” His lips descended on yours again, ready to make good on that promise.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people! I would really appreciate it 🖤

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[holiday-house-of-m]

I had flashbacks to the angsty one you wrote for this 😔

But all is well, R is alive and Natasha is there for them

Natasha the nurse has a nice ring to it I'm sure R appreciated her going above and beyond her role hehehe

Operation: Avalanche

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: Your first big mission on deployment doesn’t go as planned. 

Word count: 3636

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

This is Part 3 in my Sergeant Beef series. It is the main canon version of this very angsty AU I wrote.

“If we get out of here alive, I’m making Fury pay for my next vacation out of his own pocket!” Sam Wilson shouts, dropping onto his stomach as bullets fly over his head.

“Add me to that list,” you respond, yanking the empty magazine out of your rifle and popping in a fresh one. 

“Sergeant, I think we need to retreat!” Peter Parker says in a shaky voice, a few yards away where he cowers behind a boulder. 

When you don’t respond, your brain racing to formulate an escape plan, Sam does. “And where are we going to go?” Your team was cornered on the side of a mountain, gunfire raining down from above while the rustling of the bushes below indicated another group were coming up for you. 

“Maximoff, did you put out the distress signal?” you ask.

“Already did, Sarge! Air support is three minutes out!”

Three minutes was a long time, especially in a hostile environment where every second of action counted. 

BOOM.

A boulder, close to the one Peter was taking cover by, explodes into gravel. Everyone ducks and you watch your soldier slump forward, tangling in the strap of his own rifle, laying on his side motionlessly.

“We need to move!” you command. “Start heading east and stay away from the rocks!”

Sam looks at you like you’re crazy to take everyone out of a position of cover, but it’s not very good cover anymore if it can be used against you. You crawl down to where Peter lies, pressing your fingers to his neck and feeling a weak pulse. Adrenaline fuels you as you pick him up, throwing him over your shoulders, your knees protesting at the significant increase of weight, but you maintain a low center of balance and start running after Sam.

“Keep moving, keep moving!” you urge, your ears dulled to the gunfire around you. Your calves burn, your back straining to stay balanced on the uneven terrain with almost 200 pounds of extra weight on top of you. But you promised General Fury that you would bring home everyone on this mission, even at the cost of your own life.

Sam suddenly drops to his knee in front of you and for a moment you think he’s been hit, until he brings up his gun and fires at the bushes near the base of the mountain. 

“Wilson, let’s go,” you pant, more concerned with getting out of the battlefield than trying to hold your own. 

“Hold on, Sarge, I got a clear shot–”

Blood suddenly stains the side of Sam’s head. It isn’t until he turns to look at you, his eyes wide, that you realize the blood isn’t his. 

It’s yours.

Your right leg completely gives out and a hot pain rips up your thigh, taking your breath away. Blood pools heavily on your fatigues and you know you were hit in a bad spot. Peter’s weight on your shoulders causes you to fall forward and you lose your grip on him as he rolls onto the ground.

“Wilson, Wilson take Parker,” you gasp, patting your vest for a tourniquet. 

“I’m not leaving you, Sergeant,” Sam says. 

“Get everyone else to safety. Keep moving until the bird comes in,” you say, your hands shaking as you struggle just to undo the velcro of the tourniquet. 

“Sarge–”

“That’s an order.” There is no time for arguments. 

“Let me help you, at least.” Sam takes the tourniquet and slips it up your leg, cinching it tightly above the wound until you can’t feel anything below the strap. He grabs Peter, placing him in the same fireman’s carry you had him in, and starts running away as you take your rifle out to provide coverage. 

You prop yourself against a rock, firing at any movement in the bushes. Your heart hammers against your chest and you force yourself to stay focused and not to look after Sam and the other soldiers making greater and greater distance from you. While you would rather not be alone, bleeding out on foreign soil, you know this is your duty and the responsibility you accepted. 

One minute until the rescue helicopter arrived. 

You count down your bullets, firing sparingly but feeling like for every person you take down, two more appear. A bullet grazes your cheek and the pain is distracting but welcoming from the fear of death. You aren’t really ready to die, but if today is your day, you will accept it with grace. 

You think about Natasha and how you hadn’t seen her in three months. How ferociously she fought your deployment and how devastated she was when General Fury wouldn’t budge on your assignment. The last few nights you two spent together were ones you would never forget, and you hoped you would get the chance to spend one more with her. 

You twist around to fire near the mountain tops, unable to take on pressure from both angles. As you struggle to reload, another bullet catches you in the side. The pain is explosive and literally blinding as you fall onto your back, helpless and exposed, gasping for air with a punctured lung. You fight to sit back up, your fingers slippery and wet with blood as you maintain a death grip on your weapon. It feels impossibly heavy in your arms now as you try to lift it, using a rock as a crutch when you realize you’re too weak to hold it on your own.

Blackness threatens the edges of your vision and you’re painfully aware of how agonized your breathing sounds as you struggle to draw in air to stay focused. The trigger of your rifle feels like it weighs 1000 pounds, and every shot you take takes considerable effort. 

You hear the whistle before the grenade impacts behind you, sending you flying into the air like a ragdoll. You’re not even sure which way is up when you finally land, breathing in dirt and blood. For some reason, you feel embarrassed that this is how they’re going to find your body, if your team gets to you before the enemies do. All the strength you had ever possessed, all the life you had ever lived, crumpled and crushed into a broken body. 

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, as hard as you try. All the noises surrounding you, the gunfire, the screaming, the explosions, seems to fade away. You think about Natasha again, her arms wrapped around you while you lie on her chest, listening to her strong heartbeat while she tells you about all the plans she has for you two. You’re still waiting for the day she finally says that she loves you, but maybe that wasn’t something you were destined to hear. 

Unconsciousness takes you slowly and you finally give in, still hoping that your team escaped harm and that you would reunite with Natasha one day.

***********************************************************************

When you try to open your eyes for the first time, it feels like you have anchors attached to your eyelids. It takes you so much effort you don’t even think it’s worth it, until bright white lights cut through and you feel light-headed as consciousness returns to you.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N?”

“Someone get the doctor.”

“Vitals are spiking.”

You hear voices but don’t recognize them, suddenly overwhelmed by an intense pain that attacks every bone in your body. You’re completely paralyzed by it, your teeth grinding together while you fight to stay awake, but after a few seconds, the pain starts to dissolve into a manageable numbness and you sigh in relief.

“Sergeant Y/N, if you can hear my voice, can you open your eyes for me?”

You’ve been trying to do that this whole time, but your body is reacting so slowly it’s frustrating.

“How about you move a finger for me?”

You try to heed the instruction, but now you’re so numb you’re not sure if you’re moving anything.  

“It’s a lot to ask so soon after surgery. We should wait a little while longer.”

There is the shuffling of footsteps.

“Y/N?”

You recognize Natasha’s voice instantly and your eyes fly open, squinting at the harsh lights. It takes you a few seconds to focus on your surroundings, but you come to realize you’re in a hospital bed, wearing only a flimsy paper gown and the entire right side of your body is covered in casts and gauze. 

“Y/N?” Natasha jumps up, holding onto your left hand that you see has a clear plastic tube taped to the veins. “Oh my God, you’re actually awake. How do you feel, baby?”

Your mouth tastes like you swallowed a handful of sand. It takes a second before you have enough saliva in your mouth to speak. “Wheremeye?” you garble out. Natasha grabs a white cup from the nightstand and holds it to your lips so you can take a few sips. “Thanks…” you gasp, surprised at how much saying one word hurts. “Where…Where am I?”

“Fort Sam,” Natasha answers. You notice how she hasn’t let go of your hand once. She’s dressed casually, her hair tied into a messy bun that would not pass even the most generous of uniform inspections. Her eyes are red and irritated, her cheeks dry, like she’s spent the last 24 hours crying.

“S-Sam?” you ask, you mind first going to your teammate. 

“Fort Sam in Houston, Texas,” Natasha says. “They brought you here to the medical center after your mission was compromised.” 

“Mission?” The memories come back to you in pieces. You remember the ambush, Peter getting knocked out by an explosion, carrying him to safety before taking a bullet yourself, then telling Sam to go on with the rest of the team while you stayed behind and tried to cover them. “My team…Where’s my team?”

“They’re fine,” Natasha says. “Parker had a minor concussion, and the rest had some scrapes and bruises, but everyone is fine.”

“Good, good.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something worse had happened to your teammates, although you’re not exactly thrilled with your current position either.

“Do you remember what happened?” Natasha asks. 

“A little bit.” But you’re not ready to talk about it and she can sense that. 

“I love you,” Natasha blurts out suddenly.

“Huh?” you say dumbly, although you had heard her perfectly clear.

“I love you so much, and I was so worried when Fury called me and said your team had been ambushed and that you were in critical condition,” she rambles. “I didn’t know if I was going to see you again, and then I thought about how I never told you how I really feel about you…”

“Do you mean it?” you ask, wondering if this confession was just a result of the high emotions. Natasha was an infamously private person, even around you, but she had eventually warmed up to you in a way she hadn’t to anyone else before. Still, this was a level of emotion you had never seen from her before and you wanted to make sure it was real.

“I love you with all my heart,” she says, holding your hand tighter and leaning forward to kiss your cheek gently. “And I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, with as much passion as you can muster. You want to reach out and wrap her in a hug, hold her tightly and promise her that you’re not going anywhere, but you’re so weak you can’t even squeeze her hand back. 

Natasha stays close to your side as the painkillers lull you back into unconsciousness. Her presence is comforting and you know you’ll be safe with her watching over you.

***********************************************************************

You wake up a few hours later, Natasha still next to you, and a doctor comes in to bring you up to speed. Your entire team had been evacuated from the field successfully, with you sustaining the worst injuries with bullets going through your thigh and right lung. You also broke your right arm when you landed wrong on it after being propelled into the air by a grenade explosion. Long story short, your body was a complete mess and it would be a few months before you would be back to your usual self. 

Natasha cashed in all her time off to stay with you as long as she could at the Fort Sam base. You were a little surprised but grateful, and having her around kept your mind off the fact that you were stuck in a bed for weeks. You had a lot of visitors, most of them your superiors and co-workers, but you preferred Natasha’s company over any of them. 

One day you’re watching workout videos on YouTube, jealously groveling over the fact that by the time the doctors let you out of bed, you probably wouldn’t be able to lift even 5-pound weights without a struggle, Natasha comes in with some plastic basins and a few towels folded under her arms.

“Hello,” you say, closing your laptop to give her your full attention. “What are those for?”

“Your nurse told me it’s your bath day,” Natasha says. “And I figured you might want me to help you over her.”

“Are you jealous?” you tease, as she goes over to the sink and fills one of the bowls with water. 

“No,” she says, and you don’t believe her for a second. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Everyone here has been really good to me,” you defend. 

“Yeah, but your nurse can’t take care of you the way I can.” She looks over her shoulder at you with a smirk. 

“Oh.” Obviously, it had been nearly impossible for you two to be intimate because of your injuries, and with the number of medications you were on and everything else going on, you hadn’t really been in the mood. But when Natasha looks at you with lustful eyes, the blood rushes into your groin and you’re immediately light-headed.

Natasha comes back to your side and assembles all the supplies she needs. You watch quietly, not new to this process, but curious to see if she’s just as competent as your nurse was. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair, too?” she asks.

“If it’s not too much.” You hate feeling so helpless and like a burden to others, even if it was their jobs. You still can’t even get out of bed to use the bathroom, and the mental effort it takes to summon the courage to press the call button when you need something is the equivalent of running a marathon.

“I can do that,” Natasha says. It’s rare to see her soft side, but you won’t tease her compassion. You suspect that she’s actually thrilled at this opportunity to take care of you, but again, you won’t comment.

She starts by laying you on your back and propping your head inside an inflatable basin. With surprising proficiency, she rinses your hair and lathers in a foamy shampoo, while you close your eyes and enjoy the massage. She nudges you awake and sits you back up, drying your hair with a loose towel.

“How is that?” she asks.

“It felt really nice,” you say. 

“Good.” She’s acting almost strangely professional with you, but you don’t question it. She takes off your gown and wets a washcloth, wiping it over your face and neck, then across your shoulders and down your left arm. You notice her linger along the scar on your bicep and flex your arm experimentally to see her reaction. Luckily, it hasn’t been too long that your muscles have atrophied from the lack of use, but you want to take advantage while you still can. Natasha doesn’t say anything, but you see the corners of her lips lifting in a small grin. 

She washes your chest and abs, careful around the gauze pad taped to your side where a bullet had spiraled through your ribs and poked a hole in your lung. When she lifts the gown off your legs, she chuckles at the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear and also ragingly hard. 

“Uh, this doesn’t normally happen with my nurse,” you defend, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, even though you’re certain this is as much of a turn on for her as it is for you.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of that once I’m done washing the rest of you,” she says with a wink, and you feel yourself throb at the prospect.

She washes your legs and feet, then carefully rolls you onto your side to wash your back and butt. It feels awkward now to have her take care of you like this, for her to see how useless you are that you can’t even wipe your own ass, but she doesn’t say anything until you’re rolled back over. 

“Almost done,” she says, grabbing a fresh washcloth and carefully wiping your groin area. “There we go.”

“Thanks, Nat.” You watch her take all the supplies away and wash her hands in the sink, suddenly feeling very sleepy despite the fact that you did literally nothing. You lean back against your pillows and close your eyes. When you open them only seconds later, Natasha is pulled up in a chair by your bedside. 

“If you’re tired, you can sleep,” she says. 

You shake your head stubbornly. Every second Natasha is with you, you want to take advantage of. Because she won’t be with you forever–literally, since in a few weeks she would have to return to Fort Bragg in North Carolina, and you didn’t know when you’d see her after that. It could be several more months that you were stuck here, working through physical therapy and any subsequent surgeries you needed. Natasha said she would try to relocate to a base closer to you, but she couldn’t make any promises. 

You hold out your hand for her to take and squeeze her fingers as tightly as you can. 

“I love you,” you say, fearing that you can’t get the point across enough. Your near-brush with death taught you a lot, most importantly how not to take any moments for granted. 

“I love you, too,” Natasha responds, and the heart rate monitor embarrassingly outs your excitement when the beeping skyrockets for a few seconds. She laughs. “Well, looks like you can’t hide anything from me anymore,” she says.

“I wasn’t hiding anything,” you say, your eyes darting to between your legs, where you are still very exposed and very hard. “Also, you made this happen and you did promise you'd take of it," you remind her.

“I did.” Natasha reaches over and holds your cock in her warm hand. You try and fail to hide your excitement at her mere touch, glaring at the heart rate monitor in frustration. “Don’t be mad, it’s kind of hot how nervous I make you,” she says.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just happy you’re here,” you explain. 

“Oh, I can see you’re very happy.” She starts stroking you slowly and you struggle to sit up so you can watch. Her thumb rubs circles around your tip and you sigh in pleasure. You had been entirely uninterested in getting yourself off when you had been alone, but with Natasha here, it suddenly feels right. 

As pre-cum drips out of the head, Natasha wipes it off and rubs it up and down your cock, keeping a tight pressure with her fingers that almost has you moaning if you hadn’t stopped yourself. Your hips try arching off the bed, but the movement causes too much pain in your thigh so you’re forced to stay grounded. The muscles in your abs tense as you breathe heavily, helplessly reaching or the railing of the bed with your good hand to stabilize yourself. 

“Fuck, Nat, that feels so good,” you whine when she adds her other hand, but even then your length is so big she can’t cover it all with both hands. Your cock is practically glistening with you own pre-cum now, and you tilt your head back into the pillow with a moan when Natasha rubs the sensitive spot below your tip. 

“Don’t make a mess,” she warns, her hands jerking you faster, twisting her wrists in opposite directions. You squirm on the bed, embarrassed at how soon you’re about to cum, but you blame it on the medications and your lack of practice. As your breathing picks up, your side stretches and there is a lightning bolt of pain up your ribs, but you ignore it as the ball of arousal in your stomach tightens.The slick noises your cock makes as Natasha pumps you in and out of her hand are so filthy that your head spins. 

“Oh, God. Please, Nat, I think…can I…I’m gonna…” You are completely incoherent as you watch Natasha jerk you off, throbbing in her hands so hard that she can feel your heartbeat. You have no idea how you’re not going to make a mess, unless she stops touching you, but you can’t think of anything you want less right now. 

Without saying anything, Natasha leans over and sucks your tip into her mouth. The wetness and warmth of her mouth is too much and you grunt as you release yourself in a few rather weak spurts. She swallows everything you give her, her tongue licking up every drop, before she draws back and smiles at you. Your cock is limp against your leg almost immediately. 

“That felt really nice,” you pant, flopping back on the bed, truly spent now. “I’ll return the favor soon, baby. I promise.”

She gives your cock a soft pat. “I know you will.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: And all is well again. It was nice seeing Sergeant Romanoff being soft with Sergeant Beef for once. :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[montagoves]

hungry? | jason todd

summary: you like to bite your boyfriend

warnings: suggestive at the end, very minor mention of sexual content, jason being big and yummy

you and jason have been dating for a while, to the point where it’s comfortable for you to be at each other’s places (mostly yours).

he’s over at your apartment, laying beside you on the bed while you guys watch some reality show you like (a reality show he’s too stubborn to admit he enjoys). you’re both lying on your stomachs, arms propped up as you both watch the show on the small tv in your room.

at some point, you turn your head to look at jason, who’s too focused on pretending to not be invested in the show (he’s failing). with a smile, you admire him for a bit, eyes falling upon each of the features you love about him (all of his features, really).

your eyes especially linger on his arms, which look even bigger now with his hands holding his head up. the muscles move as he shifts slightly, his elbows sinking deeper into the mattress.

jason’s size always got your heart racing, whether it was when he would help you grab something off the top shelf of the pantry (placed there strategically by him so you would ask for help), or when he would push you up against a wall and ravish you to the point of needing him to hold you.

unable to hold back, you lean in, your teeth nibbling at his bicep through the t-shirt he wore.

jason is taken out of the current drama of the show, pausing it (because he cannot miss what happens) and glancing down at you as your mouth latches onto his arm.

“what are you doing, doll?”

“nothing,” you pull away only briefly before pressing a soft kiss where you had bit him. his lips turn up in a small smile, leaning forward and pecking your lips.

wanting more of him, you push up and kiss him back, the sudden gesture making him fall onto his back. you move quickly, straddling him as you continue the kiss.

the kiss only goes on for a few moments before you move your lips away from his, nipping at his jawline, his neck, then his collarbones. you pull his shirt collar down, giving you access to the top of his chest. your teeth continue to nibble on the skin, and jason runs a gentle hand through your hair.

“are you hungry or something? why do you keep biting me?” he asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“do you not like it?” you question, peering up at him only slightly. he shakes his head, tugging lightly on your hair as a means of reassurance.

“no, doll. i do—really, i do. but, why?”

you give him a grin, moving up his body again to peck his lips.

“because… you’re yummy.”

jason hums, guiding your head back to press his lips to yours. a short kiss—but it leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

“well, doll,” he mumbles against your lips, “while i enjoy you biting me… i think i can show you better ways to taste how yummy i am.”

[buckybuckyboo]

Just thoughts....

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI

When he wakes up in the middle of the night horny. It doesn't matter that you've already fucked tonight and that he made you cum multiple times. He just can't get enough of you.

He gently pulls you to lay on your back as he positions himself between your legs. Kissing along your chest and neck. Waking slightly feeling his lips on your skin "mmmm Buckyyy"

Your hands instantly combing through his hair.

"Why are you awake baby?"

You ask him, your voice laced with sleepiness. Feeling his lips on your neck. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear "you".

His cock slowly slides inside you. "I was dreaming about you.. I needed to be back inside you". Pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as he slowly grass his cock in and out of you.

"Your pussy is so perfect, fits my cock so well. You feel that? How it just slips right in?"

He pushes in fully, his cock so deep in your pussy just kissing your cervix, making you lose your breath. "Open your eyes for me baby? Come on, eyes on me". Opening your eyes and seeing his big ocean blue eyes looking right back at you. "Good girl, keep those beautiful eyes on me".

He starts to move his hips, he's not in any rush, slowly pulling and back in getting you ready. Once he feels your pussy squeeze his cock he knows he's working you up. He places his metal hand on your hip holding you in place, his other had on the side of your face. He looks deep into your eyes, snapping his hips forward into you hard.

It makes your breath hitch every single time his hips snap forward. Your pussy squeezing him even tighter making him grunt. "B-Buckyyy" "feels good doesn't ot baby" he whispers. "Your pussy feels so fucking good. I just can't get enough. Ugh- fuck!"

He buried his head in the crook of your neck. His pace doesn't change. Slowly out and snap back in, hitting your sweet spot every single time. He knows your close, your pussy squeezing him over and over again.

"That's ot sweetheart, squeeze me all you want"

"Buck-y pleeaseee"

His hips snap forward a few more times and you cum all over his cock. Your quiet moans is all he can hear in his ear. His hips still burying his cock deep inside you as his seed floods your pussy and cervix.

The gentle pants you feel against your neck. Running your fingers through his hair. He lifts his head looking into your eyes and kissing your lips gently. Rolling over and pulling you with him and laying you on his chest. You kiss his chest and lay your head back down, he smiles and kisses the top of your head.

[buckyalpine]

Size kink Bucky

Give me big dick size kink Bucky who throws his head back and moans when he first breeches your tight cunt, barely pushing in just the swollen head of his cock while shoving your legs back till your thighs hit your chest. Bucky who watches his fat cock stretch you open with a feral expression on his face, your squeals and moans music to his ears because he’s splitting you in half. Thicker than a snicker Bucky who runs his mouth about how hes too big for you, his large mass caging your under him while he fucks you senseless.

“S’too tight bunny, god damn”

“Choking my dick baby, I know it hurts, let daddy in, c’mon, make room for my cock - fuck - almost there - shittt”

“Lookit this tiny pussy baby, fuck you have the cutest button between your legs, fuck I just-“ he pulls out of you just to flick your clit with his cockhead before shoving it in you again, smirking at the way your hand wraps around his large wrist, pulling his hand to the where you need him.

“So greedy for such a little cunt, you can barely take all of me and you already want more?“ he spits right down onto your clit, this calloused thumb rubbing right circles onto you with each thrust

“Daddy’s got such a big load for you baby, m’gonna drain my balls till it’s dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. Wanna see your belly swell up with how much cum I’m about to give you” he grits out, chest heaving when his cock hardens even more, veins pulsing and his orgasm crawls down his spine, spreading through his thighs, his balls seizing up, pleasure shooting through the tip.

“FUCK, t-take it bunny, lemme fill you up, there’s so much baby, might get you pregnant, what you gonna do with all this cum, god, it’s so much-

Sorry. I need to go back to work now.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Nightmares Fade

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: After a traumatic mission, you are left shaken by a nightmare that lingers, blurring the line between reality and fear. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping a warm cup of tea will calm your nerves. But it’s not just the tea that brings comfort to you.

Based on this request.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, nightmares, a little anxiety and tension, the reader is jumpy, mentions of violence from a mission (implied), mental fatigue, and fluffy (because I can’t help it)

Author’s Note: I tried to avoid gory details or focus too much on the contents of the nightmare.

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics 

You sat straight up in your bed, your heart pounding as you tried to catch your breath. The nightmare clung to your mind. The shadows of your fears haunt you even in the comfort of your bed. 

It was just a dream.

The last mission was gruesome. Normally, they didn’t affect you, or at least you tried not to let them rattle you, but the remnants of the aftermath followed you into your dreams.

It was just a dream.

You wiped your temple, trying to shake off the images and the helplessness that still echoed within you. 

It was just a dream.

Reaching towards your nightstand, you looked over at the time on your phone.

2:15 am

Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cool touch of the floor grounding you for a moment. 

Just a dream.

You ran your hands up and down your face as if trying to scrub away the bad thoughts.

You paused for a moment, feeling that uneasy stillness. The kind of stillness where every creak in the house makes your skin crawl, where the quiet is too much to bear.

You flinched at a sudden noise.

Something moved.

You froze.

A tight knot formed in your stomach.

But it was just your coat, slipping off the back of the chair by your desk.

A breathless giggle escaped you.

You were being ridiculous.

It was just a silly dream.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your robe and padded toward the kitchen, hoping that making tea would help.

You reached the kitchen, filling the kettle with water, the soft noise soothing your nerves. You weren’t sure why you felt so unsettled; you should’ve been able to shake the nightmare by now. But it lingered, just beyond reach, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Then you heard it.

A sound.

Quiet, but unmistakable.

From behind you.

You screamed, gripping the closing thing to you, which was the handle of the panini press.

Bucky’s tough demeanor cracked, the corner of his lip tugging into a soft smile, a hint of amusement on his face. 

His imposing figure loomed in the doorway, his broad shoulders practically filling the space. His blue eyes, though soft in the dim light, were fixed on you, tense yet unreadable.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s just me.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you didn't have to fight off an intruder while wearing a bunny robe, and you released the panini press handle. 

Thank God. 

It was just your wild imagination.

His presence in the kitchen wasn’t a coincidence; you knew he must’ve heard you. You froze for a moment, wiping at your face again, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears. Your first instinct was to turn away, to pretend like nothing was wrong, but that was a pointless game to play with Bucky. He saw through every façade. 

Before you could escape to privacy, you heard a sharp whistle from Bucky. “No, you don't. C'mere, sunshine.”

You winced at his tone, but his voice was gentle and commanding in the way only Bucky could be. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let you hide. 

Reluctantly, you turned back toward him, though your eyes were on the floor as you shuffled closer. “I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, keeping your voice steady, even though you could feel your heart still pounding.

“You okay?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky didn’t buy it.

His sharp instincts had a way of seeing right through any façade, especially yours. He uncrossed his arms, taking a few steps toward you, his large presence making the space feel smaller.

“C'mere,” he said softly, that gentle authority in his voice making it impossible to say no.

Reluctantly, you turned toward him, your eyes flicking to the floor. “Really, Bucky. It’s nothing.”

He didn’t buy it for a second. His flesh hand reached out, gently lifting your chin.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern. “Nightmare, right?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, feeling the weight of the admission, that vulnerability creeping up your spine.

Bucky's face softened, the hardness of his usual demeanor slipping away as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Come sit down, alright?"

Before you could protest, he guided you to the couch, his large, strong hand steadying you as he sat you down. He wrapped a cozy, warm blanket around your shoulders, the soft fabric instantly comforting.

“Stay here,” Bucky said with quiet authority, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll make finishing making you some tea.”

You let out a soft sigh, melting into his warmth as he gently pushed a few strands of hair out of your face. 

The simple tenderness of the gesture made your heart swell, and the gentleness of his touch was so at odds with the hardened bravado he often leaned into. 

With you, Bucky was a different kind of man. 

A sweet, soft, protective one.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before he moved to the kitchen. 

The rhythm of his movements in the kitchen was reassuring as you sighed.

When he returned, he was holding two steaming mugs of tea. He settled down beside you, and you shifted out of your cozy blanket cocoon, eager to share its warmth with him.

“Oh, no, sunshine, you don’t have to do that,” he said softly, his voice like a gentle caress.

“I want to,” you murmured, your smile shining through, soft and sweet.

His smile grew, a look of pure affection, as he pulled you closer, his arm sliding around you effortlessly, bringing you into his side like it was where you belonged.

“Here,” Bucky said softly, his voice like velvet, as he handed you a mug, the warmth of it seeping into your hands. His fingers brushed against yours, soft but lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as though he was trying to pass some of his calm into you. “This should help. It’s chamomile.”

You took a sip, the warmth from the tea settling in your stomach and slowly spreading through your chest. 

The sense of calm you needed started to return, but the best part was Bucky. He was still holding you close, his hand gently brushing your hair back, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

You paused, considering the offer. It had been so hard to open up to anyone, especially about your nightmares. 

But with Bucky, there was no fear of judgment. He was safe. And somehow, his presence alone made everything feel a little bit easier to bear.

“I was running…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I got cornered and I couldn’t escape. And I kept hearing the team and you…but everyone was too far. No one could reach me in time.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, his body tensing for just a moment before he relaxed again, rubbing your back in slow, comforting strokes. “I’m right here, sunshine. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions swelling up again. "I know. I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how scary it felt."

He kissed the top of your head, his voice like a low hum in your ear. "You don’t ever have to face that alone. We’re here. I’m always here. No matter what."

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket he’d draped over you earlier. "Thanks, Bucky. You’re… you’re really something else."

“Nightmares don’t stand a chance when I’m around,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair in slow, calming motions. “You’ll never face them alone. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

His words were a promise, quiet but unwavering. And as you snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek, the fragments of your nightmare seemed to fade into the background.

But then you smiled faintly, attempting to lighten the mood, even if only a little. “If we fall asleep here, Sam’s probably going to take another picture.”

Bucky chuckled. 

“Let him,” he said with a grin. “You’re worth it. You should know that by now, sunshine.”

You practically melted into his side. 

There was something in the way he cared for you that made everything feel like it could be okay, even in the worst of moments. 

Nothing else seemed to matter.

And for the first time that night, you felt the weight of fear and anxiety fall away, replaced by the comfort and safety only Bucky could give you.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[embbarnes]

Just As You Are. | B.B

summary: He tries his best for Valentine's Day.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Fluff | CW!Bucky x Fem!reader | Cunnilingus | PiV sex | Light dirty talk | Unprotected sex | Slightly insecure Bucky

a/n: I'm not big into Valentine's Day just because it feels very commercialized to me, but I like imagining it with Bucky. This plot changed so many times lmao but I think I am satisfied with how this turned out. If you're allergic to strawberries, just imagine a different fruit. Not beta read. ;; wc: 4.2k

Bucky stood motionless in the bustling store, his steely eyes fixed with a deep frown upon the endless aisle dedicated to Valentine's Day merchandise.

He didn't remember it being so...big back in the day. The sheer volume of products and options left him feeling completely overwhelmed, his mind drifting back to simpler times when a thoughtful bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate were considered more than acceptable tokens of affection for your sweetheart.

Now, he watched as frantic shoppers rushed past him, their arms laden with elaborate bouquets, towers of candy boxes, and enormous stuffed bears that seemed to grow more ridiculously sized with each passing year.

There were some shoppers who took a different approach, selecting items for personalized gift baskets filled with practical things like cozy socks or fragrant bath bombs. That seemed more personalized with his old-fashioned sensibilities, but you weren't particularly fond of long soaks in the tub, making that option feel somehow inadequate.

A wave of insecurity washed over him unexpectedly. Despite knowing that you had never once demonstrated materialistic tendencies or pressured him for presents, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should be showering you with gifts. Traditional values ingrained in him insisted that as the man in the relationship, this was his role to fulfill. His heart warmed slightly at the mental image of you beaming with delight over an armful of fresh flowers or savoring each piece from a velvet-lined, heart-shaped box of premium, ridiculously expensive chocolates.

Truthfully, he felt completely lost about what would be the perfect gift for you. The confident, charming young man he used to be - the one who could effortlessly capture a lady's attention with just a well-timed smile or clever word - seemed like a stranger from another lifetime. These days, the gazes that would drift to him were filled with suspicion and barely concealed hostility.

Defeated and increasingly anxious, Bucky turned away from the crowded store aisle, his mind spinning with uncertainty as he struggled to think of what to get you for this special occasion. As he made his way through the bustling shop, he passed by an enthusiastic florist who was eagerly displaying enormous bouquets of perfectly arranged, vibrant red roses.

The vendor was encouraging every passing customer to purchase one, his sales pitch well-rehearsed and persistent. The sight made Bucky recall a conversation from several months ago, where you had expressed your views on traditional romantic gestures. You explained that while roses were undeniably a sweet and romantic gesture, they felt somewhat predictable and conventional to you. Too ordinary, you had said, preferring instead gifts that showed genuine thought and consideration.

"Sure, roses are beautiful. I think they're a wonderful gift for birthdays or valentine's, whatever. But...I don't know. Everyone gets roses. I would be happy but it would also sort of feel like you didn't really try, since they're so abundant and common. It makes them feel less special. Hopefully that doesn't make me sound snobbish. I'd rather get a more personalized bouquet or...one with my favorite flowers instead." You glanced up at Bucky who was nodding and listening, remembering, for later.

Though the roses were beautiful, their pristine petals catching the store's fluorescent lighting to aid in their deep crimson coloration, Bucky could practically envision the polite but slightly underwhelmed expression that would cross your face if he chose such a common option.

Plus...why were flowers so expensive these days? A dozen roses for almost a hundred dollars? The modern pricing was ridiculous - back in his day, that kind of money could have bought several weeks' worth of groceries. Besides, a lot of the bouquets contained wilted flowers. If he got you a bouquet, each and every flower would be alive and well.

He didn't want to leave without getting you something special, something that would bring a genuine smile to your face. He stood there for several long moments, running his flesh hand through his hair as he considered what kind of gift would truly resonate with you, something that would perfectly balance thoughtfulness with appropriateness while still managing to surprise you.

After spending what felt like hours wandering through the store's aisles and watching other men pick the big red hearts off the shelves without a second thought, he began to carefully examine each heart-shaped box of chocolates, reading every label and ingredient list to ensure he found the exact type of varieties you had mentioned loving. Finally satisfied with a winner, he put it in the basket he grabbed.

Moving through the store, he made his way to the stuffed animal section, where he spent considerable time comparing different plush versions of your favorite animal, wanting to select the one with the perfect expression and the softest fur. That one looked too grumpy, that one looked lopsided, that one wasn’t proportioned right - but he found the perfect one.

Then rather than settling for a pre-arranged bouquet, he thoughtfully handpicked each individual flower, remembering all the times you had pointed out different blooms during your walks together, creating a personalized arrangement that represented all your favorites. Even with the care and attention he put into each gift selection, a nagging feeling of inadequacy crept in - everything he chose, while thoughtful, still felt too ordinary.

Bucky shook his head and paid for the items, ignoring the feeling.

Back at home, he arranged everything perfectly. He individually wrapped each item, positioning them precisely in the basket alongside the plush animal and chocolates. Taking his time with the flowers, he trimmed each stem at exactly the right angle and arranged them in the vase until the composition was just right. When Bucky finally stepped back to assess his work, his heart sank slightly, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

The entire arrangement somehow still didn't feel special or unique enough.

Alpine gracefully leapt onto the counter, her blue eyes focusing intently on the array of gifts laid out. She lowered her head, her pink nose twitching as she investigated each item curiously. "What do you think, girl...good enough?" Bucky asked softly, his fingers running through the ragdoll's silky fur as he gently stroked from her head down along her back.

After her inspection, Alpine cast one final, contemplative glance at the presents. Then, with typical cat-like indifference, she turned away from them, her fluffy tail held high like a banner as she delicately padded across the counter to the edge, and descended to the floor with one smooth leap.

"Bad, huh?" Bucky released a heavy sigh, his eyes lingering on the carefully chosen gifts as waves of uncertainty began to wash over him, his anxiety gradually creeping in and eating away at him.

He didn't have more time to wrestle with his uncertainties as the sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. You made your entrance quicker than he had anticipated, your exhausted form slowly making its way through the doorway after what was clearly an demanding day at work. You kicked off your shoes in a haphazard manner, letting them land wherever they might. The weariness etched across your features told him everything he needed to know about the challenging nature of your workday.

"Hey," Bucky offered in greeting as he made his way over to you in the entryway, his mind racing as he tried to keep you from noticing the carefully prepared gifts just yet. Perhaps if he could buy himself a little more time, he might figure out something better to give you than the basic gifts.

A soft, tired grumble was all you could muster in response, though the gentle warmth in his eyes worked its magic in lifting your spirits considerably. "Hey..." you murmured an actual response, crossing the space between you to wrap your arms around his sturdy frame. He gladly hugged you back, letting you bury yourself against him.

The thought of spending the entire day at home with him had been your secret wish throughout your shift, but responsibilities couldn't be ignored. He had promised to make the evening special, and that thought alone helped you persevere through the long hours of your workday.

Bucky thought fast, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with those intense steel-blue eyes. "How about a hot bath? I can get one ready for you, make it nice and warm - it'll be perfect for those sore muscles of yours...plus, I know you’ve been on your feet all day." He offered gently, his flesh hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. A playful smirk slowly spread across his lips as he added, "I could even feed you some fresh strawberries while you relax..."

"Ugh, that sounds so heavenly right now..." You agreed with a soft, appreciative moan, already imagining the soothing warmth of the water and the sweet taste of cool fruit.

Bucky made his way to the bathroom, wanting to create the perfect relaxing atmosphere for you after your long day. He tested the water temperature with his flesh hand until it reached that ideal warmth you always preferred, then clogged the drain.

While the tub filled, he selected your favorite aromatherapy soap, watching as it created billowing clouds of soft, luxurious bubbles that released that soothing scent you loved so much. He also scattered rose petals across the surface - special ones he had purchased with your other gifts. They would slowly dissolve into the water, but for now they created a nice, romantic display as they rested atop the peaks of foam.

In the bedroom, you gradually shed your work uniform, letting each piece fall away with relief before walking into the bathroom to meet him. He remained unaware of your presence for a moment until he turned, and when he did, he took the chance to admire you. Bucky rose up to his full height and approached you, his hands finding their familiar place on your hips. "You're so beautiful, doll..." he murmured, his voice full of affection as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, before adding, "Bath's all ready..."

"It looks perfect," you replied in an equally soft and tired tone, carefully stepping into the steaming bath water and sinking down with a contented moan.

God, it felt absolutely amazing - after countless exhausting days of non-stop work, your muscles were crying out for relief. Your back and neck were especially sore from hunching over your desk for hours on end. The perfectly heated water enveloped your body like a warm hug, melting away the tension and aches that had built up over time. The chosen aromatherapy oils filled the air with a soothing blend of lavender and eucalyptus that relaxed you even further.

"Thank you, Bucky... this is... exactly what I needed," you mumbled appreciatively, slowly sinking lower into the luxurious bath until the fragrant bubble clouds rose around your shoulders like a soft blanket.

Bucky's lip quirked up with a gentle, knowing smile as he reached for a plump strawberry from the delicate pink crystal bowl beside the tub. His eyes sparkled with affection as he held the fruit up teasingly, "Of course doll... now open wide~"

"Tease," you said playfully, leaning for the strawberry he held between his fingers. You gladly accepted the offering, letting your lips brush against the plump, red fruit before taking a delicate bite. The sweetness burst across your tongue as you savored each moment, watching his expression intently. Unable to resist the temptation, you gently caught his finger between your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the lingering juice - a deliberately cheeky move to provoke a reaction.

Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you, a knowing smile spreading slowly across his face. His fingers twitched slightly at the sensation of your tongue, and he leaned in closer. "Don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he warned in a low, honeyed voice that made you shiver, even in the steaming water. "You know exactly what'll happen. Besides, it's Valentine's Day..." He reached out to trace your jawline with his thumb, his touch feather-light and promising. "...I'll make it all about you..."

You couldn't resist the temptation that coursed through you, causing you to slowly emerge from the water just enough to delicately capture his hand between your teeth and deliver a playful nip. Your lips ghosted across his wrist and laid a kiss, "I think I wanna see what you mean..."

That's how you ended up on the bed with his face between your legs.

Your swollen, sensitive pussy being devoured by the soldier keeping your legs spread open. His tongue flatly lapped at you before he would encase your delicate clit in his lips and desperately suckle. The alternating movements kept you close enough to the brink of orgasm, but he wouldn't let you finish all the way yet.

"Bucky! Pl-please," you cried out desperately as he suctioned to your throbbing clit once more, his skilled tongue working magic against your sensitive bud. Your trembling hands clung tightly to the twisted sheets below your hips, your knuckles turning white from the intensity of your grip. Your cheeks were deeply flushed as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

It felt so fucking good - Bucky always dove into you like a starved man who hadn't tasted such sweetness in decades, you were a fruit from Eden and he wouldn’t stop until he has had all of you.

Which was kind of true, until you two had started dating and everything changed. Over time, he gradually gained the confidence he needed, becoming more and more comfortable with engaging in intimate acts. The hesitation that had once held him back melted away completely, and once that newfound bravado took over, he became a passionate and attentive lover who knew exactly how to make you come undone.

Bucky growled against you, tugging you even closer as he kept his face against your folds and lapped at you repeatedly. His eyes would peek at your expression from time to time, but he mostly kept them closed, purely focusing on your taste. So sweet and delectable, you were his favorite thing to lap up and devour. He never wanted to stop. This was his favorite thing ever. Being the source of your pleasure and hearing how you whined and squirmed underneath him.

"Come for me, baby...come on. Give it to me." He muffled against you as his tongue continued to move up and down with his repetitive licks, getting your juices and making sure to run over that swollen bud.

Fuck, you were. You were going to.

You moaned loudly as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, the tense burning sensation gradually building deep in your belly while your legs trembled uncontrollably. Bucky kept a firm hold on your legs, keeping himself buried in your pussy as he continued his feast. Heat radiated outward as you began to feel your nerves come alive, electric sensations traveling from your core and flowing down through your limbs to the tips of your fingers and toes. The pressure continued mounting until finally, everything began slowly blossoming and unwinding into an overwhelming, desperate climax.

When he pulled away from your folds, his face and dark scruff were thoroughly soaked with your juices. The smug, satisfied bastard slowly licked his lips and began climbing over your shaking body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from your sensitive belly all the way up to the crook of your neck. "Y'r so soft...god, I love every inch of you," he whispered in that husky, desire-laden voice as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"Bucky..." You whined needily, the desperate tone in your voice betraying just how affected you were, but you couldn't bring yourself to care - you were absolutely burning with desire for him. The delicious scratching sensation of his rough scruff against your skin felt absolutely divine, and you couldn't help but nuzzle your cheek against his strong jaw, seeking more of that friction. Your responsive action drew a knowing smile from Bucky as he pressed his body more firmly against yours, allowing his head to respond to your pressure and reaching his hand down to carefully position himself against you.

"Easy, my beautiful girl...I promise I'll give you everything you want and need. My perfect doll...just lay still for me, just like that...looking so gorgeous spread out underneath me..." He praised in that gentle, soothing voice that you normally adored, but in your current state of desperate arousal, his sweet words only served to turn you on even more. Something about it drove you insane.

When he finally breached you, your body arched off the bed and your hands immediately grabbed onto him, mindful not to claw at his heavily scarred shoulder.

The moan that escaped from between your parted lips was abruptly silenced as he captured your mouth with his own. The lingering taste of your pleasure danced on his tongue as it skillfully glided past your own, delving deeper to thoroughly explore every corner of your mouth. A deep, resonant hum of satisfaction rumbled in the soldier's chest and vibrated against your lips as he pressed into the kiss with mounting intensity, perfectly matching the quickening rhythm of the increasingly passionate snaps his hips made against you.

The gentle slapping that filled the room was drowned out by your cries of unison - the two of you spewing groans and moans of all kinds as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your cervix and coated it with his precum. The gummy walls of your tight cunt continued to squeeze and massage his cock with each little movement you made squirming beneath him and listening to his lower pitched sounds of pleasure.

"Bucky...ah, feels so good...feel so full," you whined and fell back onto the sheets, ignoring the gentle bulge that appeared beneath your skin each time he hilted himself inside you.

"So perfect for me, doll...made for me, made for my cock," he whispered with reverence, his voice thick and heavy. He leaned down, pressing hard, passionate kisses against your neck, which you willingly allowed. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your sensitive skin to him as he skillfully left a trail of bites and gentle purple bruises blooming across your flesh.

Prettier than any of those damned flowers he saw today.

"R'member when I bit all over you... 'round Christmas? I was so lost and confused back then and..nngh...all I knew was you. All I could think about was you. All I ever wanted was you...completely all to myself..." His voice came out rough and broken between desperate grunts as his hips pistoned at an increasingly frantic pace, his movements becoming more urgent with each thrust.

"Ah, yes...I remember it...you were so needy," You gasped breathlessly, a small knowing chuckle escaping your lips as you eagerly took him harder.

"Now look who's being needy...f-feel you squeezing around me so tight..." Bucky hissed through clenched teeth as he pushed even deeper inside you, his thick cock swelling noticeably with his rapidly approaching orgasm.

"Come for me, Buck Buck...I want it inside. Want you to fill me up," You reached up to him, yearning for more, pulling him down closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His silken hair cascaded down like a brilliant curtain, framing his face while he let out pants from slightly parted lips. The cool metal of his hand gripped firmly at the meat of your thigh, his touch both gentle and possessive, chilling the skin beneath it.

Bucky ducked his face down and pressed closer to you, a deep groan tore through his throat as his rapid thrusts finally stilled - you felt his thick member twitching inside you as he coated your pretty velvet walls in his cum. As his orgasm washed over him and made him thrust a few more times for good measure, the overwhelming sensation brought you to yours again.

You both panted, breathing heavily in unison as you relished in the feeling of him still tucked inside you, thick cum oozing out as you let out soft laughs together.

"That was absolutely incredible..." You breathed out in a contented sigh, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you so much..." Your lips tenderly found his in a series of gentle, loving pecks, while your fingers delicately traced patterns across his cheek, savoring the warmth of his skin.

"I love you too, babydoll. And actually, I have something special waiting for you in the kitchen..." He began, his eyes flickering towards the doorway. With a knowing smile, you gently guided his face back to yours, your fingers lingering on his jaw.

"Would that happen to be that beautiful arrangement of flowers and those decadent chocolates I spotted sat next to an adorable plushie?"

"Wait, what? How did you -"

"I saw the setup when you were preparing my bath earlier...sweetheart, you really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. I feel terrible now." You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, guilt evident in your voice. "Work has been so hectic lately, I didn't even manage to find time to get you anything..."

He drew you even closer into his warm embrace and gently rolled both of you onto your sides. As his softened length slipped free, you nearly whimpered at the loss of connection, you held the pout back for now. "Doll, you should know by now that I don't need fancy gifts or presents. What matters most to me is having you here, sharing these moments together.” He winked playfully before returning to a more serious tone, “You coming home to me is the greatest gift I could ask for. And you know what? The night's still young - we could curl up together and watch a movie, if you'd like..."

You smiled and nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. "That sounds wonderful, but I really think we should freshen up first...things got pretty messy and you made me feel all sticky." You whispered with a playful lilt in your voice, carefully lifting yourself from the tangled sheets. As you made your way towards the bathroom, your hips swayed flirtatiously, each step a teasing invitation. Pausing at the doorway, you glanced over your shoulder with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "C'mon baby...if you're good, I’ll do that thing you always like..."

His reaction was instantaneous.

Like a coiled spring suddenly released, Bucky leapt from the bed with the same sharp reflexes from his military days - every muscle alert and ready. His blue eyes darkened with desire as a roguish grin spread across his face. "Yes ma'am," he responded, voice husky with anticipation. In two swift strides, he crossed the room and swept you up into his strong arms, making you squeal and laugh with surprise, cradling you against his chest as he carried you eagerly toward the shower.

When your feet touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor, Bucky was already eagerly anticipating another passionate moment together, but you gently placed your hands against his firm chest, causing him to pause. Your eyes met his as you spoke softly but earnestly, "And just so you know, everything you got me was absolutely perfect. I love it all so much. You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble - just spending the evening together would have been more than enough for me, but...everything you did get makes me feel so special. The arranged bouquet with all those beautiful flowers, the adorable plushie of my favorite animal, and those delicious chocolates...it's all too much. You are perfect."

Bucky felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over him at your heartfelt words, the tension he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying suddenly melting away. His voice was tender, slightly hesitant as he responded, "O-oh... yeah, of course. I...I really wanted to make tonight special for you in every way possible. I picked all your favorite colors and included those specific flowers you always stop to admire during our walks together...and I made absolutely certain the chocolates only contained ingredients and flavors I know you enjoy...and found you a soft, cuddle buddy to keep you company when I have to be away." He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he added with endearing awkwardness, "Besides Alpine, of course."

"Yeah, whenever she's in one of her affectionate moods and decides it's snuggle time," you added with a gentle, warm chuckle, your eyes crinkling at the corners. He swore his heart beat faster each time he saw those delicate lines. "You are enough, Bucky." You gazed deeply into his eyes, taking in every flicker of emotion that passed through them, before offering him a tender, reassuring smile.

Your hand came up to cup his cheek as you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body as he relaxed against you. Drawing back just enough to meet his gaze again, you whispered to him with absolute conviction so he could feel the words as much as possible.

"You are always enough, and don't you ever doubt that for a second..."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.