#sick!bucky

[nyx22-blogs]

When Reader is Sick:

Ok, you didn't get sick often but when you did Bucky freaked out..like a lot

Sometimes he forgets you're not Steve..well back then Steve anyway

If it's a common cold he's not that bad but when you have the flu...oh boy

And unfortunately you did have the flu

He'll keep you on bed rest all day, carrying you back to your shared room if you ever stepped out.

He makes your favorite soup and brings it to your bed.

If you're too weak to get up (which you most likely are) he'll feed you himself. Which he enjoys very much.

He'll do all the cleaning for that week, making sure you rest up.

He'll cuddle with you in bed since he knows he can't get sick.

When you fall asleep he'll make the quick trip to the pharmacy to buy you medicine, and a small teddy bear.

Whenever you cough he'll rub your back up and down, whispering sweet things in your ear.

He'll help you take showers (if you feel too dizzy)

By the end of the week you do end up feeling better

And he starts sneezing..

[themculibrary]

Sick Bucky Barnes Masterlist

and time, is frozen (ao3) - Hazloveshisboo steve/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Bucky comes down with a mild cold and it's Steve's job to take care of him.

Bloom in a Garden of Love (ao3) - hopelessly_me bucky/clint T, 5k

Summary: Bucky's holding on to a weird secret- for some reason he keeps coughing up rose petals. He thinks maybe he can hide it until events take a terrifying turn.

I Don't Get Sick (ao3) - jusvibin1 bucky/tony G, 242

Summary: Bucky gets sick and Tony turns into a mother hen.

If My Body Had A Say (ao3) - orphan_account steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: “What-?” Confused, Steve tries to piece together what he did wrong, what set Bucky off. What part of what they just did triggered his trauma. Going through it in his head, he can’t think of anything they haven’t done every other time. “I got really nauseous all of a sudden.” Bucky offers in explanation. He breaths slowly through his nose, not looking at Steve as he talks. Every muscle looks tensed up and he shivers violently. --- Just another sick!Bucky fic

I'll Always Keep You Safe (Until My Last Breath) (ao3) - Sexy_Avengers17 bucky/clint N/R, 3k

Summary: Bucky gets sick and it’s up to Clint to take care of him in more ways than one.

let me take care of you (ao3) - JehBeeEh bucky/steve/tony T, 400

Summary: The super soldiers are sick. Tony just wants to take care of them.

Lost in a Library (ao3) - Stromesquad steve/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Steve gets woken up by a phone call late at night during finals week. Bucky is sick and somehow managed to get lost in the library...

My Hero (ao3) - smolsicky steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Bucky falls in to an icy pond and Steve saves him. they both catch a cold in the process.

Role Reversal (ao3) - cablesscutie steve/bucky G, 845

Summary: Prompt: Imagine Bucky getting sick during the war and Steve taking care of him.

Steve’s Daddy Pants (ao3) - Babybucky1943 steve/bucky/clint M, 2k

Summary: Clint and Bucky both come down with a stomach bug. Steve has to take care of them.

The Asset and The Fever (ao3) - Introvertatheart steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Bucky gets a sudden fever overnight. Steve worries that it could be something more than a simple fever.

Waging My Wars Behind My Face (ao3) - orphan_account steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Everyone but Steve and Bucky follow her out of the room. Bucky is too busy rubbing his eyes again, and Steve is concerned. There’s pain written all over his face, and the way he keeps rubbing his eyes and temples and squinting points to a migraine. --- Bucky has a migraine that he tries and fails to hide before a mission

[saryasy]

for @livingincolorsagain happy birthday, my love - insp

[kayvsdoodles]

staring contest 👁️👁️

[yelenabemylova]

Sick - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: wanda goes above and beyond to take care of her girlfriend when she gets sick

word count: 1.8k

please remember to reblog as it really helps writers on tumblr !!

You woke up very suddenly and expected the daylight to be blinding, but it was pitch black. Picking up your phone, you checked the time. 3:23am.

Ever since you had moved in with Wanda, you rarely woke up in the middle of the night. A slight ache troubling your head made itself known, however you decided to ignore it and blame it on being tired.

Later on, you woke up again and reached out in search of your girlfriend's comforting embrace, but all you were met with was cold sheets.

A shiver made its way up your spine, however you were simultaneously sweating as though you had just ran a marathon. Your throat was irritated and your headache had escalated into a throbbing sensation throughout the entire expanse of your head. There was a dull ache pulsating around your entire body and your nose was entirely blocked.

Just then, Wanda walked into the room, a thin layer of sweat covering her skin. "Good morning baby girl," she said as she walked over to you and gently pressed a kiss to your paler than usual lips. "M'cold," was all you could get out before an aggressive coughing fit hindered your ability to speak.

Wanda assisted you into a comfortable sitting position and gently rubbed your back as the sound of violent coughs echoed through the room, and then proceeding to get a bottle of water for you from the little fridge Tony insisted was put in everyone's rooms.

"Sorry," you smiled sheepishly at your girlfriend after you had almost drank the entire bottle of water. "Don't worry about it," she smiled before kissing your temple and laying you back down, gently tucking the fluffy green blanket on the bed around you.

She felt your forehead, but then retracted her hand quickly. "You've got a fever baby, you're really hot." she told you. "I know you are but what am I," you said tiredly, your fever-ridden brain not fully registering anything that was happening around you.

Wanda helped you take some medicine, and gave you a heating pad to keep you warm while she went to shower after an intense sparring session with Steve.

"I'll be back soon princess," she smiled before walking into your en suite. You clutched the heating pad close to your chest and spent most of the time your girlfriend was in the shower coughing, sneezing, and blowing your nose.

When Wanda walked back in, you were on the verge of tears from the incessant pain radiating throughout your body. Your girlfriend looked at you with worried eyes and gently encased you in her warm, comforting embrace. "It hurts," you croaked hoarsely, "what hurts baby?" she asked. "Everything," you told her, pouting up at her dramatically.

She giggled to herself and walked back into the bathroom, the sound of running water causing your ears to perk up, before she returned to scoop you up into her arms and gracefully carry you through to the room filling with steam and the scent of strawberries.

Wanda carefully assisted you on removing your slightly damp from sweat pyjamas and helped you into the tub, positioning herself behind you. You leaned back against her front and sighed contentedly, the warm water soothing your achey muscles.

She washed your hair and body gently, kissing the top of your head every so often. Gratitude radiated from your drowsy grin towards your caring girlfriend.

The redhead picked you up and stepped out of the bath cautiously, drying then dressing you in some underwear and one of her jumpers and a stretchy pair of leggings. You rested your head on her shoulder as she carried you back to bed, before going to get some clothes for herself.

She gently climbed into bed with you and you cuddled up to her, allowing her to wrap her arms around you. She was so warm and cozy and being held by her made you instantly feel slightly better.

Nuzzling your face into her side, she stroked your hair, comforting you with soft compliments every now and then.

Wanda heard your breathing even out after a while, she knew you were asleep and she just couldn't help but stare down at you. She thought you were so beautiful and perfect and was so happy to call you hers.

It broke her heart to know you were sick but she knew it happened to everyone and all she could do was help make you feel better. She slowly drifted off to sleep, holding her gorgeous girlfriend in her arms.

You stirred awake after a while, still cuddled up to Wanda, the perfect way to wake up. Although you felt almost worse than you did before, you were just so grateful to have her beside you.

Pietro came speeding in after a while and you smiled weakly at him, your muscles aching too much to actually move. "What's wrong, rýpka?" he asked you, smiling sadly while walking over to the bed to sit next to you and Wanda. The nickname he called you made you giggle a little, it had come from the first day you met him.

You were told by Tony to show him and his sister around the compound, however when showing them one of the many pools, you slipped and fell in. He laughed until his ribs hurt and his face was red.

From then on he always called you rýpka, or 'little fish.'

He felt your forehead with the back of his hand and ran off, but was back in less than a second. He had brought more food, water and medicine for you. He was like a brother to you, he always had your back.

"Thanks," you told him, your voice still sounded akin to that of a dying chicken. He engaged in light conversation with you until you fell asleep, then went back to the living room to let the other avengers know Wanda and you wouldn't be down for dinner.

When you woke up again, the smell of something delicious infiltrated your senses. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light coming through the windows. It had an orange hue, casting a dancing assortment of colours across the room.

Wanda was perched on the bed next to you with a bowl of soup. "Do you want to try and eat something proper, malyshka?" she asked, smiling at you. "Sure," you replied weakly. She helped you sit up between her legs, your back resting against her chest, mimicking the positioning you had arranged yourselves into while in the bath, and she assisted you in eating the soup.

"Mm did you make this? It's really good," you smiled at her, "No," she giggled, "Pepper made it, she said it would help you feel better." You smiled and made a mental note to thank Pepper next time you saw her.

Once you had finished your soup, Wanda put the bowl in the kitchen, and while she was gone, Bucky came in to check up on you. "Hey, doll, I heard you were sick?" he said, genuine concern in his voice.

When Bucky first started living with the team, most of the other avengers iced him out, but Wanda, Pietro and yourself welcomed him with open arms. You quickly learned he was really sweet and instantly became one of your best friends in the tower.

You smiled at him and tried to tell him you had began feeling better but ended up choking on air and coughing as though you were trying to remove your own lungs. He rubbed your back with his non-metal hand, after all this time, he was still worried about hurting people with his metal arm.

You leaned into his side once you had finished coughing and he hugged you. After a few minutes, Wanda came in and smiled at the two of you. Bucky got up and left the two of you alone, as Wanda sat down next to you.

"Tony said he has some medicine that can hopefully make you better, if you want?" she told you. "There is nothing else in this world I can even imagine wanting more right now," you replied, laughing. You threw on some pajama bottoms and Wanda picked you up and carried you down to Tony's lab.

"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" he asked. Tony had always been like a father figure to you, and Pepper a mother. You had grown up in an abusive household, eventually your parents kicked you out, and unfortunately. HYDRA found you.

"Not great," you told him. "Well then, let's get you fixed up," he said, taking you from Wanda's arms. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back before laying you down on one of the beds in the medical section of the lab.

Bruce walked in and smiled at you all, "so what's up, y/n?" he asked. You looked at Wanda so she could explain for you, similar to when your parents talk to the doctor for you as a child.

"She's had a high fever, she's been coughing and sneezing like crazy and she said her muscles hurt." she explained. Tony asked FRIDAY for some kind of fancy chemical and then told you to look away from your arm.

You felt a sharp prick and flinched, wincing a little at the pain. Wanda was instantly by your side, holding your other hand and rubbing her thumb in little circles to comfort you.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Tony said, smiling at you. Telling him not to worry about it, you thanked him for his help. "You should feel better by the morning, goodnight, honey," he told you. "Goodnight, Tony," you said back.

Thankfully the medicine made you extremely drowsy, knocking you out as soon as your head hit the pillow and you woke up the next morning feeling good as new.

You were walking down the hallway when you heard coughing come from Bucky's room. You quickly ran to elevator and told FRIDAY to take you down to the main floor. "Yes, of course Miss y/n," she replied.

"Miss y/n," she said after a few seconds, "yes FRIDAY?" you asked. "Sergeant Barnes has a message for you, 'Y/N YOU SON OF A BITCH I WILL KILL YOU FOR GETTING ME SICK'" he then burst out into a coughing fit and you couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Tell him I'm sorry and I'll bring some of Pepper's magic soup in a bit," you told the AI. "Of course miss."

You stepped into the kitchen and loaded your plate with a stack of pancakes as tall as you could manage. It had only been a day, but you had missed eating food with the team.

[ace-bucket]

Bucktober Day 6 - Sick

[srdonix]

Been thinking about 30s Steve and Bucky.

[therealslimshakespeare]

fave Egan pairings…I know we got scrumptious gifs of Demarco and Macon’s post liberation hand shake but I need Egan and Brady’s like I need air

[wntryoongs]

I'm so mentally unstable rn I need my parents back.

Bonus— cat dad Bucky:

[builder051]

There we go. All rumpled and fever-pink. And the coldness of the metal arm is sometimes agony and sometimes relief for the chills. Send in Steve to fix.

[howdoyousleep3]

Pairing: Daddy Steve/Baby Bucky Rating: E (Explicit) Word Count: 4.4K Tags: Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Drunk Sex, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/Sub Relationship, Brat Taming, CNC (Consensual Non-Consent), Dirty Talk, No Prep (there is an obscene amount of lube though lol), Spanking, Anal Sex, Manhandling, Feminization, Rough Sex, Light Exhibitionism, Light Subspace, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Spitting, Coming on Face, Ruined Orgasm A/N: It's about time. The current state of my life and my mental health called for a mean and selfish Daddy Steve who doesn't give a fuck. In this fic, these two rely on their established relationship and deep understanding of one another. Daddy Steve has never talked or acted like this. Bucky loves it even if he is frightened by the thrill of it. I hope you trust them and love it too. ❤️

Read here on Ao3

“Listen, Buck— I’m going out to dinner with my friends and that’s that.” 

Bucky isn’t used to being told no. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you. You’re just going to have to deal with it, baby. I’ll be home later tonight.” 

Bucky doesn’t react well to being told no. 

“I love you,” Steve had told him to obviously end the conversation, something akin to annoyance evident in his tone, digging into and burning at Bucky’s skin. Being told no feels like rejection, feels like betrayal, feels like nothing his Daddy should be forcing him to feel. 

So, Bucky hung up without another word, without a proper response. 

Without giving Daddy his “I love you”. 

If Steve wants to be mean, Bucky can be mean too. He can be mean even through the tears and through the sting of rejection and through his admittedly unnecessary pouting. So, he ignores Steve’s calls, ignores his texts, ignores his warnings. 

Buck…

Don’t do this. You know this won’t end well. 

Pick up the phone, Bucky. 

He goes about his night alone at home, ignoring Steve’s attempts at communicating, at apologizing, at getting back onto Bucky’s good side. He orders takeout and ignores the immediate urge he’s met with to order Steve’s meal of choice as well; he doesn't deserve it. He drinks half a bottle of red wine as he scrolls through Instagram, watches reruns of Real Housewives of New Jersey, and waits for his food to be delivered. 

By the time he’s done with his meal, he’s finished off the bottle of wine and ignored three more of Steve’s texts and two more calls. 

Why are you being such a brat? 

Pick up the damn phone.

You’re fixing to piss me off, Buck.

Daddy’s been drinking. 

Bucky decides to shower. He takes a long, hot, luxurious shower. He shampoos his hair twice, uses his expensive body wash that smells like pumpkin cinnamon rolls. He drenches himself in the matching body oil once he’s done showering, takes the time to put on his best skincare, his favorite oil for his hair. 

He feels like he’s floating on a cloud as he falls into bed naked and wraps himself up in their flannel sheets and heavy duvet. He doesn’t even bother going in search of his phone; he has no plans to respond to whatever Steve sends him anyway. 

Steve can kiss his ass.

Bucky is pulled slowly from his sleep. 

It isn’t in an instant or a sharp awakening; it feels like he’s being pulled slowly through syrup from his dream-riddled sleep by something curious. 

Bucky furrows his brow. Is that—?

It’s a noise, a consistent noise. 

A familiar, wet noise that immediately sets Bucky on fire from the inside out. 

The recognition of that noise forces his body and mind into a state of almost panicked awakeness then. A sharp wave of premature arousal wracks his body, something of a Pavlovian response, and it sends his heart pounding against his ribs. He opens his eyes and blinks a few times in order to help adjust to the darkness of the room, the lights from the city just outside their windows helping to keep the room not fully encased in darkness.

Once his eyes adjust, he finds the source of the sound immediately. 

He was right.

Steve stands within reach of Bucky’s bedside, close enough to touch, his cock pulled through the zipper of his pants and held in his hand. 

Fisting it.

He doesn’t even say anything when he locks eyes with Bucky, his mouth slightly dropped open and a sharp gleam in his eyes just past his glasses that leaves Bucky on edge, curious and hesitant and hot. He tries hard not to let his eyes drop back down to the sight of Steve’s impressive cock, digs his fingers into the mattress in an attempt to ground himself, but it’s useless. It’s always useless. 

He loves his Daddy’s cock. 

Bucky doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He watches on as Steve reaches for an open bottle of lube he must have pulled out of Bucky’s bedside table, watches on as he squirts some messily into his palm before reaching for his cock again. He tosses the bottle onto the bed carelessly. 

Something deep, deep within Bucky begins to grow restless. 

“Still ain’t got nothin’ to say to your Daddy?” 

Steve’s voice cuts through the air and the tension like a hot knife through butter. Bucky feels the bass of it in his toes, the bite of Steve’s growl curling around his neck. 

He curses himself for once again not thinking his tantrums through to the end, for thinking he ever stood a chance against his Daddy. 

“Yeah, forgot how much of a fuckin’ punk you can be when you don’t get your way.” 

Oh.

That’s how it’s going to be? 

The thrill of uncharted territory skirts up Bucky’s spine, the nervousness of the same curling into a ball in his belly. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t spoil me so much then,” Bucky weakly tries, but Steve only scoffs and strokes his cock harder, the girth of him making Bucky’s mouth traitorously water. 

“I’m not responsible for your fuckin attitude, Buck,” Steve bites out in a tone Bucky has only heard a few times before. It nearly forces tears to spring to his eyes, nearly pulls a whimper from the back of his throat. It also makes his balls begin to ache. 

He chooses not to say anything in response, but Steve fills the silence after a minute or two. 

“Thought about comin’ home to just blow my load all over your pretty face while you slept before crawling into bed, but…don’t know. Think I want you to be awake when I take out my anger on your pretty body.” 

Jesus. 

“Andy said I should do it, mark you up all over your face, maybe smack you around a little. But James said I need to take it out on your ass. And I gotta say…I’m keen on taking it out on your ass.” 

Bucky’s head spins. He grows dizzy from where he lays, his jaw going slack as that dizziness morphs into fuzz, into familiar heaviness. The erotic image of Steve sitting amongst his friends and discussing Bucky’s punishment pulls his hips into the bed beneath him, forcing his next few breaths to grate against the front of his throat. His dick fills out, chubbs up, fattens between his legs and in the sheets. 

Steve talking about him, about something so sexual, seeking advice from his friends on how to handle his baby— it’s all far too much to process at once.

The added layer of them all drinking, of knowing what Steve gets like when he has amber liquid slipping through his system, intensifies Bucky’s reaction. 

He’s certain Steve was spewing filth, was sharing intimate details of their relationship. He was surely discussing Bucky, what he likes and dislikes, how he reacts to Daddy’s decisions and hand. 

Fuck, Bucky shouldn’t find it so hot, but he’s damn near drooling for it. 

“Yeah, that’s right— it was a group decision. Had to tell ‘em all how bad you were bein’, had to explain why I was so fuckin’ fired up when I got there. You don’t even want to know the fucked up shit Levinson and Walker said I should force you to do. So, we decided on your ass, that your ass deserves the punishment.” 

Bucky will never be able to look Steve’s friends in the eyes again. Or maybe he will, but he’ll surely pop a boner the moment he does.

Steve’s groan is somehow thunderous yet low, long and drawn out, as he resumes stroking his cock, as he reaches into his pants and pulls his balls out. Bucky barely has time to whine at the sight before Steve is speaking again.

“But that works out ‘cause if I’m making you fuckin’ take it, I’m gonna be selfish about it. Yeah sure, I’m your Daddy and I’m supposed to teach you a lesson and make you aware of the consequences of your actions, blah blah blah��” 

Bucky’s not once heard Steve talk like this.

“— but not everything has to be a fuckin’ lesson. Sometimes I just wanna…just wanna make it hurt, lay you out a little bit. Don’t wanna make your punishment about you; I want it to be about me.” 

Bucky thinks for a moment that he has no footing, has nothing to grasp at to ground himself in the slightest. But Steve is his safety, is his other half; he’s safe here. He’s safe with Steve and he doesn’t need to question that. And because of that, because of the foundation of trust and love they share, Bucky comes to the decision that this? 

This is hot. 

It’s hot as fuck.

“Roll over,” Steve sharply and suddenly demands. “I wanna see that boy pussy I’ve been thinkin’ about fucking all night.”

Bucky whimpers, his legs spreading on instinct, his next few breaths shaking loose from his lungs. His noises sound almost like a hiccup, like a set of sobs, and he’s rising up onto his knees before he can think twice about it. 

Where he’d normally receive a noise of praise or appreciation, he instead receives a bark of, “Turn the fuck around, show it to me the way I deserve.” 

Bucky scrambles. At least he feels as if he’s scrambling, as if he’s moving quickly and awkwardly, but if the thickness of his thoughts and the difficulty of thinking a second ahead is any indication, he probably looks as if he’s lazily moving through molasses. 

Bucky still doesn’t get the noise or words of praise he’s used to when he’s finally turned around, when he’s got his back in a deep arch and his cheek pressed against the sheets as he faces away from Steve. He instead soaks in the noises of the sound of Steve beating himself off, the slick noise of his fist as he drags it up and down his— 

“You’ve been a little bitch tonight. The guys made me promise them I wouldn’t give into you the moment I saw your pretty hole, but fuck me— that’s a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” 

Bucky does moan this time, loud and ragged with tight emotion. His dick hangs heavy between his legs, achy from the suddenness and surprise of his arousal, and his hole clenches easily and involuntarily at the compliment. 

“Fuck, look how small it is, look how little that fuckin’ hole is. It’s a miracle I can fit my dick in there, my big fuckin’ dick. Your Daddy’s got a big dick, doesn’t he?” Goddamn. Bucky wants to shuffle around on his knees so he can choke on his Daddy’s big dick. He wants it in his mouth, on his tongue, in his throat. He wants—

“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” Steve damn near growls, and the sharp sting of a slap on the meat of his ass shocks Bucky’s answer from him. 

“D-Daddy’s got a big dick.” 

“Yeah, that’s right— say it again. Tell me again.”

Bucky tucks his arms under his chest, spreads his legs even more, offering himself up. 

“Daddy’s dick is so big.” 

Steve chuckles into his next groan. “Fuck, I love hearin’ that.”

He listens as Steve moves next, hears him take a few steps, hears him shuffle around before Bucky then feels a cold glob of liquid hit his ass cheek. He gasps, jumps even, but Steve just moans and spreads the liquid across Bucky’s ass with his hand. 

Bucky doesn’t even have time to ask questions or think of how messy or obscene smearing his ass in lube is when Steve’s hands are on him like this. It’s as if Bucky isn’t there as a person, as if Steve is alone in this room with his ass, as if he were a toy. Daddy’s hand rubs the lube into the cheeks of his ass carelessly, smearing it around and covering him in the slippery liquid simply for the selfish enjoyment of seeing Bucky’s ass oiled up. 

So much for his luxurious, self care shower. 

Bucky’s head is so far in the clouds that he barely registers more of it being squirt onto his ass, the feeling of Steve’s hands rubbing and moving almost hypnotizing, but then Steve is rubbing it over his hole, circling it with his fingers and thumb, pressing his thumb into his hole as he moans. 

Bucky squeals.

These touches are indicative of Steve meaning what he said about this punishment being for him; these are selfish touches. 

The slap of Daddy’s big cock right over his soaked pussy makes him whine. But the feel of Steve then resting his cock between Bucky’s cheeks, of pushing his hips forward in a rhythmic motion draws his whine out further. 

“I’m gonna be mean about it because it’s what you deserve. What I deserve. M’gonna fuck this little pussy the way I want to, for me— don’t give a shit about you right now. You wanna come? Fine. But this ain’t about you.” 

Steve pulls his hips back in order for his hand to come down over Bucky’s wet hole hard, just the once and then three more swift times, spanking it and forcing another squeal out of Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck…!”

He’s barely able to jump away from the sting, barely able to feel the burn of such a harsh touch, before Steve is stepping close again and pressing the fat tip of his cock back against Bucky’s soaked hole. 

“You better bear down on it, baby— didn’t spend my sweet time training this pussy for nothin’.” 

Bucky’s body and mind come together for a moment of panic, mesh in an effort to preserve what they perceive to be Bucky’s safety that is in danger. It’s too fast, too quick; it’s not what Bucky’s used to. He gasps as he shrinks away from Steve’s touch, his thoughts getting the best of him and— 

Steve’s strong hand on his nape is like a warm blanket, like an off switch, even when it’s a touch that makes it difficult to breathe. 

“None’a that now. Bear down, here we go…”

Claiming. 

Breeding. 

Steve’s always shown mercy, is in tune with Bucky’s mind and body, holds Bucky as a priority in life and in the bedroom; that is what Bucky is used to. But that Steve is nowhere to be found in their bedroom shrouded in darkness tonight. That Steve has been pushed past the brink of the vast amount of patience he holds, has been filled with amber liquid that takes away his softness. He’s nowhere to be found as he spears Bucky open on his cock, as he uses his big hands to press into the deep arch of Bucky’s back and use it as leverage to fuck into him faster, harder. 

Bucky tells himself it’s a lot, that it’s overwhelming, but that it doesn't hurt. He’s used to sex; they have sex frequently. His body doesn’t need to be warmed up to taking Steve when he takes Steve on the regular. But rarely does he take Steve’s cock this fast, this quick, this harsh. His stream of noise is constant, is veering on feral in nature, and he all but thrashes underneath Steve’s hands and on his cock in response to being split open. 

“This is my fuckin’ pussy,” Steve grounds out between what sounds to be gritted teeth, and Bucky can’t tell if it’s a reminder for Bucky or filth for himself. 

Bucky can’t breathe. He chokes on his breaths, on his noises that won’t stop pouring out, his breaths caged up in his chest. Steve has his waist in a brutal grip, pressing his body further into the mattress, and with Bucky’s arms trapped under his chest it makes it cages his breaths up further. 

He wills himself to breathe, begs himself to focus and to open up his willing body to his Daddy. It’s not difficult for him to want this, even as they tread new waters together, but he is quick to come to peace with his body taking the brunt of this…whatever type of punishment this is. 

The only moment of mercy Bucky is shown is when Steve’s hips meet the curve of Bucky’s ass, and even then Steve only stills long enough to press and grind his cock impossibly deeper into Bucky. It’s as if he wishes to crawl inside of Bucky with a growl, as if Bucky’s body taking the entirety of his cock isn’t enough and he needs more than Bucky can give him.

Bucky feels drool on his chin. 

His blinks are slow and lagging, or maybe that’s his eyes rolling back into his head. 

“God fucking damnit,” Steve groans, his tone showing evidence of both relief and frustration, the smack he gives Bucky’s ass driving that frustration home. He jerks his hips back, pulls out of Bucky halfway before filling him up to the brim again. The lewd, wet noises of his pussy makes his cheeks burn in embarrassment, makes him moan at the easy slide and overwhelming sensation of stretch.

Bucky doesn’t know why he pretends to be a brat. A few harsh words and a smack on his ass and here he is face down, ass up for his Daddy. 

Steve pulls his hips back again, is quick to slide them back home, beginning to fuck Bucky in earnest. 

Bucky’s head spins. 

“Pretty fuckin’ pussy for a pretty fuckin’ boy,” Steve tells him in a rumble, rubbing his thumb around Bucky’s stretched and wet rim. 

On the other hand, maybe he should be a brat more often. 

Steve fucks him without mercy. 

Bucky is used to mercy.

He’s used to eye contact and pauses and little, “You good, baby”s. He’s not used to feeling the entirety of Steve’s strength pressed into his body, not used to feeling bruises form in the moment. He’s not used to feeling like Daddy is simply using him for his hole, for somewhere wet and warm to stick his dick and fuck into. 

This is different. 

This feels so good even if it is a lot. 

It has his emotions twisted up in his stomach. 

The way his body rocks forward with every brutal thrust, the force of the stretch of his pussy, the feeling of spreading his legs and being bent over for his Daddy; he’s almost embarrassed he can very realistically come from this kind of treatment. 

He doesn’t realize he’s saying things until Steve is laughing, groaning, the noise of it swirling around Bucky’s empty brain like a marble. 

“Oh sugar,” he moans long and slow, his hands coming down to cup Bucky’s ass as he fucks it, spreading it wide. “You got nothin’ to apologize for— none of that fuckin’ matters now that I’m inside’a you.”

Was he apologizing? He can hear himself now, the drawn-out, almost mournful noises he’s making as spit pools into the sheets underneath him. It’s all nonsense; he can tell that even though his brain is having a hard time processing his own words. 

“Stretch me out, Daddy,” he hears himself whine. “I’m sorry— M’so sorry! Make it better, Daddy.” 

Steve only fucks into him harder, the slick smack of his groin and his heavy sac slapping against Bucky’s lube-covered ass adding to the cacophony of noises swirling around the room and muddying up his brain. 

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“Daddy…” 

“Of course I fucking am. Who’s your Daddy?” 

“You are…you’re my Daddy.” 

Bucky feels a hand wrap roughly around his nape. His face is shoved further into the mattress. The force of the touch and the angle of his body makes him sob.

“Yeah? And whose pussy is this? Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” 

Bucky hiccups, sputters.  

“Daddy’s! S’Daddy’s!” 

His balls begin to tighten then, his groin stirring, the moment his hole relaxes and embraces the obscene stretch of Steve’s cock in full. Steve has always told him he has a sensitive sweet spot, a sensitive pussy, and this example is his Daddy’s checkmate. 

He bucks against Steve’s harsh touch and thrusts when he feels his orgasm rapidly build and stir. 

“M’gonna come, m’gonna…come,” he hears himself slur, a pitiful warning that he’s almost certain Steve can’t hear. 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

Oh.

He was wrong.

Bucky says the only thing that makes sense to him in this moment— 

“Come in my pussy, Daddy.” 

Steve roars, shoving at Bucky’s nape before letting go and reaching for his hair, all without pausing his thrusts. 

“Don’t you fucking do that. You motherfucker. Don’t do that, Buck.”

His orgasm must possess him, push him into doing things Daddy said not to do, because he’s immediately defying his Daddy and pouting out, “Come in my pussy, Daddy. Fill my pussy up,” just as his first spurt of come hits the sheets. 

It’s the only moment of his orgasm he is allowed to enjoy. 

He’s still coming, dick continuing to shoot off and body continuing to ride the waves of a shattering orgasm, when Steve pulls out of Bucky’s body and drags him to the floor by his neck. 

He hits the carpet with a thud and a shout, knees knocking and hands flying out to catch himself. He whines, cries, at losing such a memorable orgasm, at being pulled out of the experience of such, and tucks his chin to watch himself experience the end of his climax between his legs. 

“Open your fucking mouth. Look up at me.”

Even with his ruined orgasm, he listens easily. He’s slow to do so. He turns his head up to do his best to look up at his Daddy, but the tears in his eyes make it impossible to see Steve. 

He can see his fist though, see his cock as he uses his fist to fuck himself as they nearly come full circle for the night.

“You don’t let me come on your pretty face enough,” Steve accuses, voice hot and low, labored and barely audible over the ringing in Bucky’s ears and the sound of Steve aggressively jerking off above him. 

Bucky doesn’t respond, can’t bring forth any words in his brain. He sits there with his tongue out, tears in his eyes, hips doing what they can to rock from the aftershocks of his shattering yet unenjoyable orgasm. 

Steve groans and the noise hits Bucky right in the balls. He feels the result of it in his bloodstream, in his being, a noise that, at its core, is centered around Bucky being good. It’s gluttonous and selfish and sexy and Bucky could weep hearing it. 

He thinks he is weeping at this point.  

When he opens his eyes again, Steve is coming on his tongue. 

And then his cheek.

And then over his other cheek, onto his forehead. 

All Bucky can do is sob and moan, an odd combination that makes it sound like he’s begging for his life while also in heat. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Fuck yeah, look at’chu. Look at my fuckin’ baby. My baby…” 

Steve’s come feels as if it scalds his skin, the warmth of it both a shock and a comfort to him. Bucky lets it slide from his tongue, down his chin, has to close one eye in order to avoid a painful mess. 

He does nothing to fight against the urge to pout when Steve feeds him the last bit of come from the swollen tip of his cock, letting it fall onto his bottom lip. Steve’s fingers immediately follow it, two of them reaching forward to rub the mess into his lip, then across his chin. Bucky watches from the floor as Steve’s chest heaves up and down underneath his crisp dress shirt, his thick fingers pressing and smearing his warm come into Bucky’s skin.

Bucky chases after his Daddy’s fingers like a starving animal, gasping and groaning, tongue lapping up whatever Steve has to offer. 

Does he have no pride? 

Daddy answers that question with two fingers shoved in his mouth, stroking the back of his tongue so harshly Bucky’s left with no choice but to gag loudly. 

He still moans.

Steve lets out a long, happy noise that sounds like a sigh but feels like another groan in Bucky’s balls. It’s akin to the noise he lets out when he stands to stretch as the halftime show begins during the football games he watches on Sundays, deep and satisfied. He follows the noise up with a tight grip on Bucky’s jaw from the inside of his mouth, a hold on his teeth as he pulls Bucky further towards him. 

Where Bucky expects a kiss, he instead gets no warning of Steve spitting down between his open lips.

“Fuck yeah…”

He uses his fingers to spread that around as well, allowing for the combination of his come, his spit, and Bucky’s spit slip over Bucky’s bottom lip and slip down his neck before letting Bucky go with a bit of a shove. 

Bucky’s not used to this. 

Bucky thinks he’s fallen in love with Steve all over again.

His spent and heavy cock still hangs from the open zipper of his pants, framed by thighs that Bucky swears are the size of tree trunks from down here, when Steve lets out one last, resigned groan. 

“That was exactly what I fuckin’ needed,” he casually tells Bucky with more than a tap on his cheek. He turns on his heel and begins to walk away from Bucky and towards their shared bathroom. 

Bucky can barely follow him with his eyes, can barely hold his head up.

Steve’s sharp whistle rings in his ears. 

“C’mon, sugar— let’s see if you can wring another one outta me,” he hollers from over his shoulder, not bothering to look back at Bucky. Steve almost sounds like himself again, as if he hadn’t just hate fucked Bucky to the brink of psychosis. Bucky thinks he hears the shower.

Maybe that was all Steve needed to get out of his system. 

Bucky begins to maneuver himself to stand, ass already sore and come still covering his face, when Steve snaps from the door of their bathroom. 

“Nuh-uh— you crawl to your Daddy, kid.” 

Maybe not.

[johnslittlespoon]

i just finished the prologue of the mota book and i don't know how i haven't seen a single post talking about how after john and gale's stalag reunion, they were then separated for another four months.

my heart is aching so bad. imagine being reunited (after almost three weeks, oct 8–26th) and having that tiny feeling of 'everything is going to be okay' and then being ripped apart again for four fucking months. 120 more days of not being able to be at each other's sides.

[bcolfanfic]

Can I please request Decorating for Halloween + leaning against the other one in close spaces for the corner store au boys? Something involving the void kitty, if you feel inspired 🥹❤️

sweet lil babies. this takes place a couple weeks after the first blurb/gale first showing up.

Gale pushed open the door to the corner store, the soft jingle of the bell overhead cutting through his thoughts. This place was becoming a bit of a habit for him, mostly because it was a reason to be out of the apartment and away from Haussmann bugging him. And a little bit because of John, always smiling- and nice without being overbearing.

He'd briefly met his co-worker the other day, Curt, who was louder than John both literally and in how he carried himself as a whole. But he could tell they were close.

"Yeah, once upon time this one here was shy too if you can believe that," He'd said with his arm slung around John's shoulder, giving his cheek a little pinch. Curt's New York accent a whole lot thicker than his was.

Gale didn't see John in his usual place behind the counter when he walked in, scanning the shop for him or Curt until he found him crouched near a box of Halloween directions that looked a bit like it had exploded. John looked up when he realized he wasn't alone, grin spreading across his face when he saw who it was.

“Hey Gale,” he said, hands pressed into his knees as he stood up off the ground. “Curt’s out sick, and I’ve got all this stuff to put up. Could use a hand- if you’re not too busy,”

Gale blinked. He sucked in his bottom lip, looking at the pile of decorations on the ground. "You want me to help?"

John chuckled softly. “Yeah, unless you see another Gale around here."

Gale hesitated, the urge to say no, get what he came in for and leave making his wrists itch. But it was a reason to be a little longer getting back home.

And a reason to spend more time with the closest thing he had to a friend right now.

“‘m not busy,” he mumbled, forcing himself to look at John as he scratched at his palm.

“Sweet.” John replied, bending back down to pull a pile of what Gale was pretty sure were fake cobwebs out of the torn open box. “You can drape these over the shelves over there, but make sure they aren't covering the prices too much,"

Just as he was about to hand them over something brushed against Gale’s leg and he couldn't help but startle a little. Looking down, he felt a little silly when he realized it was just the cat weaving between his ankles.

John chuckled, watching the animal push her head against the side of Gale's socks with a fond smile. “Hey Luna, found a new buddy huh?”

Gale crouched down to give her a gentle scratch behind her ears, chest feeling warm when she leaned into the touch, purring softly. “I didn’t realize she had a name,” he mumbled in a near whisper, Luna purring louder in response.

He stood back up reluctantly after a minute, taking the handful of cobwebs John had been meaning to give him before they were interrupted.

They worked quietly for a while- and it felt a little weird to not be making small talk. But the silence somehow wasn't as awkward as it could've been. Every now and then Gale caught John stealing glances at him, something about the tenderness in his eyes making his stomach flip over on itself.

Coming from anyone else it would've felt pitiful.

Coming from John, it didn’t.

John eventually drifted closer to him, holding a string of orange pumpkin lights. “Need help?” he asked as he stepped into Gale’s space, his arm brushing against him as he reached up to adjust the cobwebs. “If you double 'em over they won’t slide off as much."

Gale's breath caught when their shoulders touched, the proximity feeling intentional from John's end. He swallowed hard, feeling his heartrate kick up.

“That's smart, thanks," he said quickly, eyes darting to John's face before flicking away again. He felt flustered, flustered enough to be embarrassed about it.

But the moment lingered, and Gale found his gaze wandering back to John as he weaved the string of lights he was holding between the gaps in the side of shelving unit. The way he smiled as he worked, the casual confidence in the way he moved, a few curls of hair falling into his eyes and his shoulder continuing to bump against his- it all felt heightened suddenly.

The realization that followed made Gale's ears ring.

John was… cute.

His cheeks burned, and he quickly looked away again- berating himself in his head. John was just being nice.

And he was being ridiculous.

Whether John could read his mind or not, he didn't move away. Gale could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the space between them, could feel the fabric of his flannel shirt grazing the back of his neck when he reached around him to grab something.

“Look at that,” John said, voice lower and almost teasing, when he'd finished with the lights. He took a step back to admire their progress, arms crossed. “I think we make a pretty good team huh Gale?”

Gale swallowed, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said soft, giving John a half smile. “I guess we do.”

[bucklikethedollar]

just finished succession. i made a collage about it.

[anomura]

"is it good?"

"it's great."

what if you were GAY and DOG CODED and IN LOVE and going stir crazy sitting still in a pow camp and also had a PRAISE KINK and liked feeling USEFUL

[bats-and-sadness]

i need a new sexy fictional man to hyper fixate on bc this is too much