#jbbkinktobber2020

[sassy-pelican]

Such Beef, Much Thigh

Pairing: beefy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: Thigh Riding (day 3)

Warning: thigh riding and everything that comes with that wonderful thing, language, um … references to a mission? Defo cuteness and fluff. I don’t really know. 

A/N: So I’m tired and I forgot about day 3, which is a tragedy. How could I ever let myself forget about riding thighs. Ugh, very disappointed in myself. Anyway … there is a super cute surprise. I also didn’t mean for the ending to get that mushy, it just did. Short and sweet y’all.

written for @jbbuckybarnes​ Kinktober challange.

gif credit

Four hours. That’s how late Bucky was. You knew he was fine, he called and said so himself. He told you that the debrief should be done before ten. Well, it’s two a.m. and still no Bucky. 

You love your husband, truly, but you also love your sleep. And after days of almost none, your eyes are drooping and your conherency is laughable at best. 

Maybe it’s the sleep depravity, or maybe it’s your false - well not completely but Bucky would get mad - of security but before you know you are in dreamland, the front door unlocked. 

“Doll,” Bucky calls from the door, “I’m home!” The door unlocked didn’t worry him, you left it unlocked every time you stayed up waiting for him. He felt terrible. Sam and Steve kept everyone over, way over, the time allotted. He half expected for the door to be locked and for you to be in bed. Four hours is a long time to wait. 

When you don’t answer him is when he gets worried. You always answer him when he comes home. “Y/N?” Bucky yells. 

As he turns the corner he’s met with your soft snores, snores he is ashamed to say he missed when he came home because he was tired. 

A hand on your shoulder is all it takes before you’re tackling him to the ground, protective instincts kicking in. With a knee against Bucky’s neck you finally come to, realizing that you just incapastated your husband, who just got home from a mission. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, pulling yourself off him. “You were late and I guess I fell asleep.”

“You should’ve locked the door,” Bucky says. Your mind is already wandering, looking at the thighs you’re so wonderfully sitting on. 

“Such beef,” you whisper, hands running up the length of his thighs. “Much thigh.”

Bucky stops mid sentence, realizing you haven’t heard a word he said. His own mind just recognizing what you said. “W-What?”

“Huh?”

“What did you say?” he asks. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply, grinding your hips unconsciously down on the fabric of his tac pants. The rough material creating glorious friction, even through your old panties. 

“You said ‘such beef, much thigh’ dear,” he laughs, flexing the muscle in his leg and your breath hitches. 

“I said that outloud?”

“‘Fraid so darlin’,” Bucky says. 

His hands grasp your hips and move you back and forth slowly. You hold back moans as you start rocking your hips with him, your clit rubbing against the fabric of your panties. “God Bucky,” you moan, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck yourself on my thigh,” he whispers, sitting up and crushing you to his chest as you continue to rub yourself like a cat in heat against him. 

Minutes pass like that, breathing harshly in each other's mouths as you separate your lips only long enough to breathe. Moans aer caught in throats and muffled with tongues as you claw at his back, desperate to get his gear off and also too exhausted to actually try and get it off. 

“Feels so good,” you moan. Just as you start to climb, climax fast approaching Bucky claims your mouth. 

The scream of pleasure from you is muffled by his mouth. He lets you ride out your orgasm, slowly, panting and running your fingers through his hair. 

“I take it you’re glad I’m home?” he asks. 

“Definitely not,” you joke. 

“I suppose I could go back to the Compound,” he teases. 

“I’ll castrate you,” you deadpan. 

A cry, loud and high pitched comes from the baby monitor on the coffee table, now just inches from your ear. You wince. “I’ve got her,” Bucky says, picking you up and putting you on the couch. 

“She’s been driving me crazy for days,” you say. “She wants you.”

“I could make a really inappropriate joke right now,” he says, “but given the fact that you’ve been alone with Becca for five days, I won’t.”

“Thank you,” you say. Bucky bends down and kisses you, much sweeter and without the passion of before. 

“I love you,” he says, already peeling off his gear. He never let’s Becca seeh him with his gear on, he’s too scared that it’ll scare her. You’re of firm opinion that nothing scares your daughter except when he leaves. 

“Love you too,” you say, watching as he starts out the room. “Your sweats are on the bed,” you call after him. 

“Thanks.”

And suddenly, you aren’t so tired, so fed up with a baby that wanted to cry for her dad twenty-four-seven. You’re still sleep deprived, and delirious as hell, but you’re also smiling. Dysfunctional as it may be, unconventional as all get out, but the family you and Bucky carved out for yourself in the hellscape that is earth, is perfect.