#winterschildren8

[navybrat817]

as a painful and all awful experience, I have to ask: what would biker!Bucky do if you accidentally burn yourself on the bike?

OUCH! Why, lovely?! Well. I did ask for this, didn't I? ❤️

First thing Bucky would do is make sure you're okay and assess just how serious the burn is. While he logically knows most burns are mild, it's different with you. You're his doll, his world, and the last thing he ever wants is for you to be hurt. Which is why he immediately shuts you down when you try to play off that it isn't a big deal.

Because if it wasn't, you wouldn't have tears in your eyes.

Once he knows he's good to treat it himself, he would handle it with the utmost tenderness and care. He has had plenty of experience with it on his own, but each wince he hears over the sound of the running water and each shaky smile you give him as he gently pats the sound is like a dagger making little cuts on his heart. The burn glares at him, taunting him for not keeping you safe. For not taking care of you. For not-

"Thank you, Bucky," you whisper as he applies the antiseptic and bandages the wound, seeing how upset he is from the clench in his jaw and fire in his normally cool eyes. "I'll be more careful next time."

"It was my idea to go for a ride," he whispers back. "I wish I could take the pain away."

"I think a kiss will help," you smile.

So he gives you one, telling you how sorry he is with each glide of his lips. And he spends the rest of the day doting on you the way you deserve. Because the only thing more important than his bike is you.

*****

Love and thanks! ❤️

[buck-star]

All I want is you | B.B

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

Authors Note: Reposting all the stuff from my other account here so please bear with me.

Event: Part of the Flash Fiction Challenge hosted by @justagirlinafandomworld [Song: All I want for Christmas is you]

Masterlist | Challenge Masterlist

"And what do you want for Christmas?" You ask with a grin on your face as you hold up a hoodie with the Grinch's face.

Bucky looks at the hoodie, rolling his eyes playfully.

"I'm not the Grinch, babydoll."

"Aren't you? You're always so grumpy around others; just the green is missing. Maybe we should paint you?" You joke, giggling as Bucky takes a step closer to you.

His arms wrap around your waist to pull you against his broad chest.

"You think so?" He growls, trying to hide the smile on his lips. "It's just because I only have a soft spot for one thing. The thing I want for Christmas, and that's you."

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @kandis-mom @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @peachy-satan00

[sillyrabbit81]

Tag List Three

@sanjaaaaaaa @winterschildren8 @just-chirpin @quaintrelleangel @kinkylulu @galensmistress9 @imjusthereforliam @the-jer-bear @zetasaturno99 @bichibibi @mrs-eadig @irishavengersassemble @bourbonwithice @bport76 @blackwidownat2814 @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @memoriesat30 @ms-betsy-fangirl @thehunterintrenchcoat @girl-with-an-orange-cat @tessathunder @coffeebooksandfandom @idgafiamallthefandoms @lindsaytriestowrite @sparkythefallen1 @here4thespice @marvelmysterywoman @plaidcat4815 @sofiebstar @lady-targaryen @est1887 @unadulteratedwitcher @bloodyinspiredfuck @marvel-mars @yeoldedumbslut @confessionbrain @xcallmetaniax @toomanyfandomsshreya @fvckinghenrycavill @peaches1958

Say It

Prompt: Embarrassed & Shy, Marshall, Dirty Talk from @nashibirne (x)

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 600

Warnings: Smut, P in V sex, Dirty talk, corruption kink

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @henryobsessed  and @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

Edited by me, there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

Nothing in the world turned Marshall on more than watching a demure, dignified, pure, lady turn into a depraved, lustful, writhing, woman. The need to be the impetus that led to your corruption was what had led him to this moment and he pauses to take it all in.

You are more beautiful to him in this moment than ever before; naked and open, your body spread out across his bed, your smell and excitement seeping into his sheets. He wishes he could take a picture to capture this moment forever.

He doesn’t dare though, not yet anyway. One day you will let him, he’ll take baby steps. Having you completely bare and the lights on had taken a lot of finesse and being so close to finally having you, he was not about to mess this up by going too far too quickly.

Besides, he thinks as he leans over your body and holds his weight over you with an outstretched arm, there is something he wants more than a picture.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he says.

You avert your gaze from his and his cock throbs. God, he loves watching you squirm, loves watching you as your timidness and desire war for supremacy in your mind. 

“I want…” you lick your lips, close your eyes and blurt out, “you to have sex with me.”

Marshall shakes his head. “No, baby, you don’t want to have sex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I don’t?”

“No,” Marshall continues with a smirk, “you don’t want me to have sex with you. You want me to fuck you.”

“Oh God!” you cry, covering your face with your hands.

Cute, Marshall thinks, she’s so fucking cute.

“Say it,” he encourages.

He lowers himself until the coarse curls on his chest caress the sensitive and pebbled skin of your nipples. His fingers skim up the inside of your thigh, his touch leaving a wake of tight, tingling, goosebumped flesh.

“Say, ‘Walter, I want you to fuck me,’” he breathes into your ear, “Say, ‘I want you to fuck me until I scream.’”

Fingers dance over your slit, his thumb slides between your swollen lips to the slick and warm hidden skin of your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart.”

You groan and Marshall grins. Your skin burns with embarrassment but also arousal. 

“I can’t,” you practically sob.

Your core pulses, clutching at nothing, your desperation increasing as the roughened pad of Marshall’s thumb finds your clit. You hear a low deep moan and are shocked to realise it is coming from you.

Your thighs start to tremble as Marshall rolls your clit beneath his thumb. You’re gasping, each breath hitching in your throat as you teeter on the edge. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you grab hold in desperation. More, you need more.

She’s so close.

Marshall presses the pulsing and leaking head of his cock against your pussy. The soft heat of you is so tempting, he almost gives in.

Frustrated, he growls into your ear, “Tell me every dirty desire you have. Tell me every fucked up, filthy little fantasy that you dream about and I’ll make it a reality. All you have to do is say it.”

Your voice is so hoarse, you don’t recognise it as you finally relent. “Fuck me! Just fuck me, Walter.”

“Good girl,” Marshall praises gently, kissing your cheek. He sinks inside you, groaning with relief as your tight, silky walls envelop him. “Good fucking girl.”

[buckyownsmylife]

I wonder why took me so long to start Fuel To Fire ‘cause it’s pure masterpiece and now I’m addicted. You’re amazing, love ya 💙

😲

Thank you so much! I never expect people to like that story, since it's so out of the ordinary (in comparison to what I'm used to writing). Thank you for letting me know you liked it, it means the world to me!

[penneferofvenerburg]

COURT INTRIGUE CHAPTER TWO

@sanjaaaaaaa @winterschildren8 @just-chirpin @quaintrelleangel @kinkylulu @galens-mistress @imjusthereforliam @the-jer-bear @zetasaturno99 @bichibibi @mrs-eadig @irishavengersassemble @bourbonwithice @bport76 @blackwidownat2814 @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @memoriesat30 @ms-betsy-fangirl @thehunterintrenchcoat @girl-with-an-orange-cat @tessathunder @coffeebooksandfandom @idgafiamallthefandoms @lindsaytriestowrite @sparkythefallen1 @here4thespice @marvelmysterywoman @plaidcat4815 @sofiebstar @lady-targaryen @est1887 @unadulteratedwitcher @bloodyinspiredfuck @marvel-mars @yeoldedumbslut @confessionbrain @xcallmetaniax @toomanyfandomsshreya @fvckinghenrycavill @peaches1958 @blazingmoon62442 @babyhenry @blavikennbutcher @henrycavilledits @henrycavillfan etc:)

Warning: mild Kissing, a little added smut

Title: Court Intrigue Chapter Two

1553 - Westminster Palace England

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Ever since Lady Isabelle Harrington had arrived at the royal Courts heads had been turned steering them away from the devilishly and you daresay beautiful Lady Anne boleyn Marquess of Pembroke as she was now to be called. Oh just another day at Court with the whole court stopping and staring at Lady Anne wherever she went. Isabelle was rather tired of hearing about it the great issue that her dearest Cousin His majesty The King was to marry lady Anne and make her his Queen so that she could born him a son to complete his line of the tudors the only thing that made it bearable was His Grace The Duke of Suffolk of course he was established at Court everybody hated him Isabelle could not think why. What a gentleman he is towards the ladies of the court! Said Lady Anne had become accustomed to seeing Isabelle the King's cousin about the Court shortly after Isabelle's arrival there was talk of the Sweating sickness plaguing the City Charles urged her to take the most cautious care about people for she too could fall unwell, Isabelle listened to The Duke and kept to her chambers within the verge of the Court, not even his majesty could visit her when The Duke came to see her before this deathly plague started he told her " I must away to go back home for now but I shall write to you his majesty will not mind I have he knows of my looking after you"! Charles told her tentatively one day, " indeed you must your Grace and hasten for my sake for the love of God stay well"! Came her reply. With that he took her hand and kissed it gently upon her fingers and disappeared from her chambers.

After the disease had abated and everything was well again the whole Court assembled once more. Charles returned with his wife The Duchess of Suffolk Lady Margaret Isabelle's Cousin who was against her own brother marrying someone of low rank and birth.

That evening, there was to be a feast with music and dancing the Queen Katherine was in distress had having been asked remove herself from her rightful position Isabelle was distraught at the thought of her leaving but she had to keep it quiet for her own sake.

(This was the gown Isabelle was wearing)

" Ah! Lady Isabelle may I introduce you to my wife .... her Grace Lady Margaret Duchess of Suffolk"! Spoke the Duke kindly smiling at Isabelle with the brightest of smiles reserved for her only.

Isabelle curtised to the Duchess " Yes your Grace I believe we are cousins Lady Margaret"! The Duke walked off to talk with the King and The Duke of Norfolk Lady Anne's uncle. " Yes indeed my brother has told me"! Lady Margaret repiled smiling warmly. She had heard that her cousin had lost her husband in Portugal and so remarried To the duke of Suffolk. " You have a fine husband my lady"! Isabelle quipped smiling sipping her wine, " My Lady Isabelle be warned my husband does have a reputation at Court"! Isabelle laughed with her " haha! My lady you merely flatter me His Grace his only protector whilst I'm here for the sake of the said Lady Anne"! Isabelle replied smiling, his grace the Duke occasionally looked over to see Isabelle happily chatting away with his wife.

The King too had noticed them " Look at them Charles! My sister and my cousin together"! Charles nodded replying " yes your majesty they are getting on famously well I wager"! Unbeknown to him and the King Lord Rochford had seen the Lady Isabelle and planned to get rid of her.

The music started and the Duke politely excused himself from the present company only to walk over to the two ladies talking disturbing their conversation.

" Begging your pardon my lady! Do you do me the honour of this dance"? Charles asked smiling holding out his hand to walk her onto the dance floor.

" yes your Grace you may! That's if your wife will not mind me dancing with her husband"! Isabelle answered smiling at Margaret.

" Of course not my Lady Isabelle... Go on"! Margaret repiled smiling encouraging her to dance with the Duke her husband as they danced ahead could see George boleyn Lady Anne's whuperkng to his father pointing at her, it made her terribly uneasy and discouraged by the dancing she suddenly stopped Charles frowned at her " My Lady Isabelle! What in earth is the matter? Are you quite well"? Charles asked concerned. Instead Isabelle put on a brave face smiled and repiled " forgive me your Grace I suddenly became quite dizzy"! Charles led her to the nearest seat and sat with her until she was recovered. Unfortunately for George boleyn Charles had seen him pointing at the lady Isabelle and was close to hear he was whispering to his father Lord Rochford controller of the King's household. Charles looked at Isabelle frowning she had suddenly gone into a faint, " My God"! Charles muttered beneath his breath, he got from his seat scooping the Lady Isabelle into his arms and carrying her back to her chambers with two guards posted upon the door.

" Gaurds! Guard her with your life do not let anyone who is not authorized to see her anywhere near her understand.... on pain of death"! The Duke told the two guards stood at her door. " Yes your Grace"! They both answered.

The Duke went to find the King he was busily dancing with said Lady Anne he knew his moment was gone. " damn it damn that God forgive me whore"! He hissed beneath his breath.

He knew that he had to get back to the Lady Isabelle hes life depended upon it.

When he got to her chamber she had gotten out of her gown and into nightgown and robe with her hair plated.

" My Lady! Are you sure your quite well"? Charles asked concerned.

" Y..yes your Grace why ever would I not be"? Isabelle asked smiling.

" my lady touched fainted at the feast I had carry you ... thst to mr says you are not well"! Charles told her.

" no your Grace in perfectly well ... its shock that is all"! Isabelle answered gracefully as she could weakened by her distress the room began to spin it happened again.

" My lady"! Charles managed catch her before she fell flat onto the floor.

" My dearest! Please I beg you tell me ..... what is it"? Charles begged Isabelle tenderly stroking her cheek as she lay there helpless in his arms. " Come we must get you into bed"! Whispering kissing her head he carried her to the large bed with carved wood above her head laying her carefully Charles covered her with a blanket as she in her night attire he caught glimpses of her ample breasts that he and he and only he will have as her true devoted loy husband (he hopes) but since Charles was her protector he failed to see why George boleyn was whispering to his father and pointing at the jewl now lay soundlessly slumbering. " Charles think for the love of God think"! He thought to himself, then it came to him they were planning to get rid of her had he not been there he dreaded what might have happened.

Isabelle woke to find her dearest Duke sat in the chair beside her bed watching over her.

" C...Charles"! Isabelle smiled barely able to speak from the shock.

" Isabelle my sweetest dearest love! Thank God.... how did you sleep"? Charles asked concerned stroking her hair with his thumb.

" p...please I beg dear Charles! I am well... forgive me it was shock that caused the faint last evening"! Isabelle apologised.

" My darling you have nothing to apologise for"! Charles repiled smiling. Isabelle was weakened very weakened by the shock of what had happened that previous evening.

" My dearest darling! I will have report this matter to the King"! Charles told her taking her hand into his and holding it.

" What they don't know is I was close enough to hear what they were saying"! Charles whispers.

Charles hated the Boleyn's he could not understand what Lady Isabelle had done to deserve such unspeakable behaviour toward her within the verge of Court.

" I will see to it that George Boleyn is punished"! Charles told her he wished not to risk her fainting any farther.

Over the next few days Isabelle had continued to be stronger and vowed not to get into the Boleyn's way for her own sanity.

Elsewhere in Court George Boleyn was still plotting to remove Lady Isabelle from the Court.

Charles would anything to protect the innocent beautiful young woman he loves, it would mean telling that George boleyn planned to have Isabelle locked away.

Said Lady Anne was with his majesty the morning after the incident had occurred when Charles arrives to speak with his majesty alone in private (since it's his majesty's cousin) he let Anne stay within the room while Charles and he talked privately in his bed chamber.

" George boleyn planned to have my cousin locked up.... for what ...what possible reason"? The King asked

Lady Anne could not hear what they were talking about if she had she surely would have gone mad with rage.

" Yes your majesty Lady Isabelle has had twice had fainting fits now what am I to do"? Charles asked concerned with his lady's health.

" Stay with her Charles... you are her protector if needs be I will send my physician to see her"! His majesty told Charles with a gentle hand on the shoulder. The King was outraged that a trusted member of his court would do such a thing perhaps even more then Anne had plotted it with her brother to lock the lady Isabelle away in the tower and threaten her with torture.

" Yes your majesty.... see to it that she has very comfort your Grace "! The King degreed.

With that assurance the Duke went back to Lady Harrington's chambers when entering the room he was shocked to find her out of bed by the window looking out over the gardens.

" The King will arrest George boleyn for his plotting"! Charles told smiling from the doorway as he shut it behind him.

" My darling what is it"? Charles tentatively brushing a strand of long hair behind her ear.

" supposing that he comes back o..or Lady Anne poisons me what'll you do then"? Isabelle asked terrified.

" Charles I'm scared ... say you won't leave me"! Isabelle pleads.

" oh my love! Of course I won't leave you.... come here"! Charles smiled.

He pulled her into his warm chest and wrapped his arms about her trembling form, " my love your trembling? Are you cold"? Isabelle stood against desperate for warmth. " alright my love alright I've here now I'm not going anywhere"! Charles whispered into her hair.

" Come let's get you into bed"! Charles whispered he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, he lay her down then he stripped himself of his doublet and nobleman's shirt he lay beside her in her chamber.

Charles wrapped around his arms, keeping her in his loving embrace she willingly turned into him.

" Hush now my darling ...sleep how I'm here no one will dare come here when im here"! He whispered in Isabelle's ear.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The next morning Isabelle woke to Charles next to her, Charles kissed her cheek lightly three times.

" Goodmorning my dearest love"! Charles whispered into her ear. Isabelle smiled at the thought of waking like this every morning with her darling Duke in her arms. " Goodmorning my sweetest Duke"! Isabelle whispered as she kissed three times on the head.

Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk was handsome and good looking and very charming since his wives death he remained unmarried he has settled himself upon marrying Lady Isabelle making her his Duchess of Suffolk.

" I must leave now I have to see to his majesty"! Charles smiled again kissing her upon the head.

(This is the day gown she wore)

When Isabelle returned from behind her dressing screen Charles had pulled the stays tight just so that he could see a little more of her and she must act normally.

" Oh my darling.... Look at how sweet you look this morning"! Charles smiled kissing her cheek.

Charles and Isabelle walked the Palace corridors together arm in arm talking and laughing the King saw just how happy his dear cousin was with his best friend Charles.

" My Lady Isabelle, Your Grace how happy you look"! His majesty smiled. His grace nodded " quite your majesty"! The King carried on with his duties.

" Charles are we always to stay like this"? Isabelle asked smiling.

" No my sweet darling! When the time is right ..... we will be together I promise you"!

" What does this mean? That you intend to keep me"! Isabelle replied kindly smiling.

" You look so regal in that gown my darling ..... better than her majesty The Queen I'd say"! Charles smiled.

" where are we going Charles? W..we seemed to be walking these corridors in circles"! Isabelle smiled upar him.

" I'm taking on a ride"! Charles announced.

" But your Grace this isn't made for riding"! Isabelle protests.

" Nonsense my dear you look gorgeous in any gown"! Charles told her smiling.

Charles lifted her into the saddle " have not been riding before my Lady"? Charles asked a little confused, Isabelle chuckled " why of course but not for years I used to ride when my father would allow it"! Charles hauled himself into the saddle before her and took over the reigns. " Well if the King can do it with his woman then surely I can do it with you"! Charles declares with resolution.

" Put your arms around me my love"! Charles instructed.

The loving pair set off for their mornings ride together " when you have your own horse my Lady we will do this more often not with His majesty though ..... just you and me enjoying each others company"! Charles smiled with a laugh escaping him.

" This is blissful away from the trappings of the Court"! Isabelle sighed, " Will father not allow you to marry whom you wish Isabelle "? Charles asked attentively, " it's not that Charles .... it's just I've always preferred a much more simpler life than your advantage marriage"! Isabelle replied honestly. " indeed! But would you not wish to be married to man who cares about you ....who would spend their days riding the forests and the lands with you"? Charles questioned, " haha! It depends on him God calls me to marry"! Isabelle replied laughing. " You think God will tell you whom to marry"! Isabelle smiled " hmm! Or rather whom to marry"!

" what's changed your mind I thought you told me you were not the marrying kind"! Charles smiled.

" did I? I'd quite forgotten"! Isabelle breathed.

" Let's stop here for a while .... rest"! Charles decided.

" but why my lord! .... because I want see your smile as I can't see it from this position"! Charles told her with a smirk.

Isabelle knew well the tales people told of Charles Brandon the infamous lover who never had women for more then hour.

" People are so critical at court it bores me especially of this wedding"! Isabelle confused.

Charles lifted her from the saddle off the back of his horse she was as light as a feather. Taking her hand he lead her behind a tree looking around to see if anyone was looking thankfully they weren't.

" My darling will you allow me to kiss you"? Charles asked whispering. Isabelle felt the heat from already wetted core build more. " Charles my sweet Charles..... kiss me"! Isabelle moaned as his tongue slowly and torturously entered her mouth. Their loving union kiss was there hanging there waiting for them to break " ooh charles my love"! Isabelle moaned again.

Charles's heated desire for her had gotten the better of him " Turn round"! He instructed Isabelle.

Charles undressed her as he gently placed kisses down her neck eagerly pushing her dress down leaving room for her undress to be left there. " There not so restricted"! He continued kiss her down her neck as she willingly titled her head to low him more room his hand searched up her under dress and found that one jewl that he always meant for him. " Oh my darling your so wet for me"! He whispers as his finger found her jewl and started playing with her. " oh charles I beg you don't stop .... don't stop I want you"! Isabelle moaned as he crashed his lips to hers.

" Don't move my darling"! He instructs as he unleashes himself upon her. She felt his hardened length hit her he grinds against her. " ch....charles I want you"! Isabelle whimpered as she bit her lip. He directed himself inside her, " there my love keep still"! He began to pump himself into her with brute strength. Isabelle held onto him for dear life as he rode her.

Charles came inside her as she cried out his name as if it were a prayer said at mass.

" Charles"! She cried feeling as if something had left her.

" There my darling hush now be still, I want to see you doing it for me"! He breathed, slowly turned her and lifted her one leg affording him more access to her jewl that was now throbbing with heat for him pushing his finger inside her again he began pump it as if he was buried himself inside her, " that's it my love keep going"! He smiled into Isabelle's ear, as she rode his finger thr heat rushing through was intense she flung an arm round his neck. The heat built and built until she breathed out " Harder Charles"! Charles began to pump his finger harder into her as she requested "my darling that it my sweet stay with me"! Soon she felt her body about shiver and stiffen as the Duke brought her closer to the edge of absolute heaven. The sudden feeling hitting her like a bolt out if the blue. " CHARLES"! She screamed as she came. Her naked body giving away in the process to Charles's commanding presence. " My lord we should stop for I fear we may get caught"!

" No my dearest Isabelle now you have to keep me"! Charles whispered into her ear delightfully.

" Happily, my dearest Charles"! She whispered back to him breathlessly.

" I swear to all that's holy .... i will keep you pure until we are wed! I cannot bare the thought of anything happening to you"! Charles begged.

" My darling we must get back to the Court ..... his majesty will be wondering about me"! Isabelle replied slowly regaining her breath from the love making with her Charles in the forest.

" of course my darling"! He helped her into her gown and then helped her into his horse.

There was nothing about this young lady that did not enchant Charles Brandon true he had a reputation for bedding young women within the Court but even this did not deter her.

They rode back to the Court happy they had spent time together at last Isabelle had her arms wrapped round him as he spotted the horse on towards Court.

When they re entered the Court Lady Anne was swanning about the palace as if she was already the Queen of England.

Charles opened the door for Lady Isabelle and he walked in shutting it after himself Isabelle walks over to the window Charles had a feeling was wrong.

" Isabelle! My love.... what's wrong"? Charles asked concerned that something troubled her. Isabelle turned " Haha! My dear charles why would think there should be anything I've just spent the day with you away from Court politics.... everythings well"!

" dearest! You must believe me I intend to make mine Catherine my ward has no feelings toward me so I'm free to marry just as the King is free to marry that..... woman"! Charles bit back the word he could've used, " Catherine looks after son does she not"? Isabelle asked Charles nodded a solemn nod singlely. " Yes she does my love but she knows that I have feelings for you"! Charles stroked Isabelle's cheek gently abs tenderly with his thumb Isabelle smiled slightly " Is she not angered by it"? Isabelle asked almost in a whisper barely audible to Charles, " no Isabelle she is not angered by it in fact she's on board with it shes told him so herself that she wishes you and she to be friends"! Charles replys smiling. Isabelle smiled widely now " Well I shall not disappoint the young lady I'm sure that shes as beautiful as you say she is your Grace then there should not be an issue"! Isabelle replied.

He watched to talk to the chair before the fire roaring before the hearth Isabelle became uncomfortable in her gown she rose from the chair and went behind the dressing screen only to reappear in her nightgown and robe.

" My dear! How devine you look"! Charles complmented as she gestured for him to set himself in the opposite seat to her pouring both him and her a cups of wine. " I thank you your Grace.... this is old thing"! Isabelle replied kindly sitting allowing the hearth to warm her body after the days entertainment in the forest.

" Don't you want to go to the feast with his majesty! I'm sure hes missing your company y...Charles"! Isabelle corrected herself.

Charles was not able to draw his eyes from alluring form in the gown she wore her amble breasts filled the chest area he felt his mouth go dry. " my Lady are you dismissing me from your company"? Charles asked with a smirk. " Heavens no Charles you must know that enjoy your company and your intelligent conversation"! Isabelle replied smiling, she turned slightly in her chair to get the book from the table beside her it was a romance that she had borrowed from the royal library a few days ago and she still had not found time to devour it.

" Isabelle Harrington! You are the beguiling woman I've ever had the pleasure to know"! Charles told her seductively, he stood took off his coat and his sword belt stalked toward where she was seated. " Charles whatever do you mean"? Isabelle asked as her breath hitched in her throat, " do you not wish for me to please you my dearest"? Charles asked her, Isabelle smiled " Yes of course but what if......Charles cut her off " my sweet darling .... you are full of what ifs"! He bent to kiss her lips tenderly soft and luscious as his tongue entered her mouth Isabelle was powerless to stop her pounding heart now pounding in her ears.

He began to run his hands up her legs taking the material with it. " Isabelle allow me how much I adore and love you"! Charles asked looking up at her though hopeful eyes.

" Yes my dearest Charles"! Isabelle replied breathing out leaning her head back closing her eyes already beginning to imagine the things Charles would do to her he begun sliding his hands on the inside of her thighs to part them. Isabelle hitched her nightgown up higher still there was still so much to hold she felt Charles press his finger to her wet damp core that jewl ready to be taken by him.

" Tell me you want me my love"! Charles begged Isabelle freely allowing his finger to enter her wetted folds, " y...yes c...charles"! She moaned, " that's it my darling sweet .... stay there for me! He continued pushing his finger further Isabelle felt it as she begun to feel the sensation talking over her breasts peeking up at the feeling that Charles was giving her, " Do you want more my darling""? Isabelle could only nod at the question in the throes of pleasure she could not hide her love and devotion for Charles now he'd already claimed her once in the forest now he was going to claim her again. The heat from the hearth casting shadows of the pair into the walls of the apartment, the heat in her core was slowly coming over her Charles felt her core tighten around his fingers. " don't cum for me yet angel look at me angel"! Isabelle dared open her eyes seeing her beloved Charles tend her in this way was almost unforgiving of herself and that of Gods mercy. Isabelle reached out a hand to cresess Charles's cheek as his finger circled her jewl " that's it my sweet little thing look at me angel"! He cooed to her the heat causing though her like a huge wave " Oh my g...god c.h.a.r.l.e.s"! She chanted, " there my dearest your so close don't cum yet let me a string was pulling tighter and tighter and tighter still Charles carried on giving her the pleasure she so desperately wanted from him. " Charles my love I can't hold much more please I need to ..... oh god I'm cumming c.h.a.r.l.e.s im cumming CHARLES"! she rocked her hips into his finger that took her over the edge, charles retracted his finger from her there she had done it..

" Come my sweet darling... let's get you to bed hmm your exhausted"! Isabelle was tired after that that Charles had just given to her, Charles kissed her forehead sweaty from their nights pleasure passion he lay her on the bed her hand never letting go of her his. " Charles will you stay with me"? Isabelle asked innocently him. " Yes my angel I'll stay with you .... I won't leave your side that I promise you my sweet darling"! Charles stripped himself of his nobleman's clothes and boots and climbed into the bed beside her.

🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔

The next morning Charles woke to find Isabelle still asleep beside him, he bent to kiss her lips she opened her eyes " Goodmorning my dearest! How did you sleep"? Charles asked stroking a strand of hair out of her face.

" I slept well Thankyou Charles no thanks to you"! Isabelle replied kindly smiling at him. " Last evening was indeed a good one and we shall have more once I've been to his majesty to ask for his permission I intend to do the right thing this time darling sweetheart.... now you rest I must go to his majesty"! Charles smiled down at her.

" The future Isabelle Brandon ....Duchess of Suffolk"! Charles proudly announced.

Isabelle playfully pulls a face " The wife of a Duke.... my my father would be pleased"! Charles kissed her nose and climbed off the bed to dress.

(There is more to come so don't be disappointed its abit short sending you all my love as is Charles Duke of Suffolk hehe! 😍❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ x @penneferofvenerburg

[navybrat817]

Rugby!player Bucky ???

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAqTwNXt9kV/?igsh=NW56dWh0cW9raXVs

My god those gigantic thighs and ass

I had to use this gif, lovely!

So, I saw this video before you sent it and watched it again and again after you sent it and I'm pretty sure I sent it to people, too? Because look at him. I wanna bite.

But, yes, let's talk about rugby player!Bucky and his massive size. How did he meet you and when is he taking you out? Because he will take you out before he takes you to bed.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[gutsby]

Taglist continued - please lmk if I missed anyone!

@bigtreefest @winterschildren8 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @soberbabes @hannah9921 @queerqueenlynn @princessaxoxo @foulpersonahandsvoid @hollyseb @hisredheadedgoddess28 @peaceinourtime82 @goldenfoxe @marvel-wifey-86 @onlyferorder66 @a-really-bi-girl @buckyswhxre @starkleila @fiercedeception @bookishtheaterlover7 @fandomsfeminismandme @ladyvenera @sapphirebarnes @oceaniamaddness @siriusjohnpotter @thedevilnamedlola @harry-bowie-mercury @bethexo07, @yoursooogolden @gamingfeline @b3llair3 @louxbloom @mk15x @literaryavenger @vaylint, @dreamerwasfound @ashley-brooks-2008, @spiderwebbedhearts @skel-skell @tinydramatist @justsebstan @tu1i @lamentis-10 @inloveallthetime @samfreakingwinchester @buckysbarne @whumptastic-world @abaker74 @supernaturalstilinski @calwitch @rylee-001 @sebastians-love @lavender-moony @that1nerd-20 @casa-boiardi @stuckys-girl8

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

[buck-star]

Promises | B.B

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: hint of angst, fluff

Event: Part of the Flash Fiction Challenge hosted by @justagirlinafandomworld [Song: Fade into you]

Masterlist | Challenge Masterlist

"Y-You came back?" Your voice is muffled by your hands in front of your face. Your eyes focused on the man who is just walking closer to you after you thought you lost him forever. "I-I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I promised I will be home before Christmas; the time travel wasn't that long," Bucky replies, a soft smile across his lips while he takes another step closer to you. He holds his arms wide open, inviting you for a hug. "I told you, I will never leave you. The past may not be the best, but a future with you is everything I always dreamed of, babydoll.”

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @casa-boiardi @kandismom @peachy-satan00 @holylulusworld tag yourself

[summer-blonde]

Thank you for the love @imyourbratzdoll & @winterschildren8 . I did love writing that series and had such a plan to write a million more parts beyond what I had. But alas, toxic fandom stuff drove me out.

I have all of my work but took it down because there was a lot of plagiarism going on and I didn't want to anything getting stolen.

But thank you again ❤️❤️❤️

Can someone please help me find a fic?

It was I think two Chris characters and they are brothers and meet reader on a train and end up sharing her and fucking her?

[navybrat817]

I'll choose Ari in every universe, so I'd be lovely married to the thief, but always have some space for a certain investor here

A good one to choose, lovely. Let's talk about the thief!

In this universe, Ari is a thief. Not in the traditional sense. He steals back art and other priceless artifacts and returns them to their rightful owners. Sometimes.

As an artist, Steve holds him in high regard.

Car of choice: Subaru Forester

A Catwoman of sorts, the two of you worked together to get items back. After a rough job, you helped patch him up and ended up in his bed.

First gift: Sea pearl and diamond pendant

Favorite lingerie on you until he takes it off: Crotchless Teddy

Relationship status: Married

The investor is a good one, too. Love and thanks! ❤️

Silly Boys With Silly Toys

[navybrat817]

Sending this from Purgatory 'cause I'm DEAD

https://twitter.com/thinkersebstan/status/1787612506212454612?t=tRFfIDakGyBEkyrkUQxzKQ&s=19

Are you still in Purgatory, lovely? Should I send him to go get you?

He needs you here. 😏

Love and thanks! ❤️

[navybrat817]

Navy, I honestly dislike anything related to Christmas, but I wanted sooooo much to see Chris at the screen. Did you watch Red One already?? Any thoughts about our Jack O'Malley and his twin Lloyd??

Hey, lovely! You absolutely don't have to explain or respond, but is it the commercialization of the holiday? My work team actually had a debate about when Christmas decor should go up and when music should start playing.

I have not had a chance to see Red One yet! I heard he's a dad in it though, so we have another canon parent character!

Jack and Lloyd would make a great set of twins. Jack isn't exactly good and we know Lloyd is terrible. 😂 Their skills together would also make them a formidable duo and I almost pity the reader who catches their eye. Almost.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[the-iceni-bitch]

@fushic0re @astrorogers @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @cocoamoonmalfoy @slvttyfied @biteofcherry @haravath0t @howdoyousleep3 @slothspaghettiwrites @sparkledfirecracker @mrsmischief209 @angrythingstarlight @navybrat817 @flordeamatista @galatially @a-lumos-in-the-nox @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @chasingmidnights @jen-with-a-pen @targaryenvampireslayer @christywantspizza @littlecupcakeb @thornsnvultures @littlelioncub43 @cutebbyprincess @nocturne-pisces @winterschildren8 @seitmai @patzammit @foxgloveprincess and more that I’m sure I’m forgetting but I still love you all 🥰🌲❄️

𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈!

This community has been such a lifesaver and comfort for me this year I couldn’t stop myself from doing a holiday post for all my mutuals and readers because the love and appreciation I have for you guys is never ending.

Happy holidays to all my loyal readers. Your excitement about and support of my work never ceases to amaze me. I still can’t get over the fact that there are so many of you who want to read my writing and it makes my heart feel so warm. And the fact that you are so understanding when I have to team a break or a hiatus makes me love you guys even more.

Happy holidays to my mutuals who are always there to hype my ideas and freak out about my favorite characters just as much as I do. Your enthusiasm for what we do is infectious and I’m so happy for the relationships I’ve developed with all of you. I love sharing our love for the little worlds we’ve created and being there to support each other.

Happy holidays to my mutuals who got me through the tough times this year. Thank you for not treating me like I was being as annoying as I felt I was. Your patience and understanding with me truly means the world and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you guys. I can truly say that we’re friends and not just mutuals because I feel so safe and comfortable with you.

Happy holidays to the new writing friends I’ve made this year. The positivity and support you have provided has been such a blessing to me and my muse. Being a part of such a special community is something I didn’t even know I needed but I’m so glad I found it. You are an amazing group of people and I treasure you every day.

Happy holidays to the mutuals I haven’t talked to as much as I’ve wanted. Know that I think about you and how you’re doing so often even if we haven’t spoken in a while and that I wish you all the happiness in the world. I promise to try to be more consistent with my communication over the next year.

And fuck it because I’m crying already, happy holidays to the mutuals who aren’t my mutuals anymore. To the one who broke my heart but that I still love and care for in spite of everything. You won’t see this but all I want for you is the best in this life and I hope that you find it where you’re looking for it.

The happiest and most wonderful of holidays to all of you who celebrate! I hope we can all have an amazing next year together full of creativity and joy!

[navybrat817]

Just here to say I adore your work and you. Have a great, great week, Navy Dear 💙

I appreciate this, Clara! It's been a stressful week and I've been on the verge of tears today.

But it's getting closer to the weekend! I hope you're having a great week and can't wait to share more nonsense!

Love and thanks. ❤️❤️❤️

[navybrat817]

Navy… NAVY!!!!!! Why can’t I get older with this man??? 😩😩

🥵🥵🥵🥵

Look. At. This. Fucking. Man. 😻

On my knees. I will suck the soul out of his body. I will call him Sir. Daddy. Whatever he wants. Please.

Giving me fuel to write more DBF.

How are we all feeling?

Love and thanks! ❤️

[navybrat817]

Navy hi!! So, I decided to start Shameless and I was soooo fine listening dubbed in my own language but THEN he hit me... Kevin Ball with long hair and a big d. I'm in love with his voice, body and I believe is 'cause he looks so much like Bucky and you deserve to know that

Ahh, lovely! Oh, Kevin. This man. My hubby watched all of Shameless, but I only caught a few seasons. So many couples on the show came with their issues from the seasons I did catch, but I loved Kev and V. And now I'm going to look at more gifs and photos of him and compare him to Bucky.

And am I projecting or am I catching a bit of Charlie Hunnam in there?

Love and thanks! ❤️