#curvy!reader

[blackberry-gingham]

Ok, concept, but do y'all think any of the boys would be down for us curvalishious women? Like fr?

Bc I can't stop thinking about the absolute POWER of walking around town with my skinnty ™ bug boy, hand in hand, beside my Ms Jessica Rabbit body 😪 Or even one of the boys with any curvy/plus size woman, tbh.

Like... Would their jaw drop if she pulled up in a fitted dress, their eyes tracing every inch of her perfect body, looking like the goddess Aphrodite herself?

Would they worship the thickness and caress her thighs and hips with revrent, shaking, slender hands?

Would they care if she weighed more then them, considering the awful stigma, both then and now? What if she had more muscle mass them them as a result of it? Would it bother them? Or would they ask her to put those powerful, gorgeous thighs to work, somewhere... else.

Would they kiss her stretch marks, every one, from her thighs to her hips and beyond with hungry lips and teeth and tell her the truth, that they're beautiful... Every bit as much as she is?

Would they encourage, even welcome her to do things like sit on their lap, or even... Get up on top? Because no, she's not "too big" or "too heavy", and yes, they think she's beautiful, and they want to see her body, if only she'll let them?

Just thinking about it 😪

[softaestluv]

John Price who has a chubby wife— loves his chubby wife, in fact. Thinks the more fat on a woman the better.

Chubby wife whom he keeps all to himself. Not because he isn’t proud to have you by his side. If anything he loves taking you to his work events so you can get all dolled up. Keeps a firm grip around your waist all night, quite possessive of you he is, but he also enjoys feeling the fat of your hip cave under his large palm. Watching the supple flesh spill between his fingertips in the soft fabric.

You hate the way your belly shows in all the dresses you have to wear for these events, but god, John couldn’t love it more. Traces his eyes over the chubby little bump in the material. Loves that he can see the silhouette, how the fabric pulls taut at your curves.

Or your breasts, round and heavy. Cleavage seeping from the tight confines of the material. Poor girl can’t help it when they’re that big, no top can seem to hide them. Distracts him all too often when people are trying to talk to him and all he can focus on is the deep slope of your breasts.

And your ass, wide and curved. Jiggles with every step you take, enjoys watching you walk in front of him just as much as he prefers you tight by his side. Practically foams at the mouth when your dress is short enough so he can see the back of your thighs. Has to will his boner away when he can see the shadows of cellulite that decorate the backs of them.

Irritation burns his throat when his sergeants approach you, try to charm you the best they can. You’re too sweet to explicitly ignore them or shush them away, but that’s what you had him for, why he was so bloody protective of you. Would have thought that his sergeants would respect their captain and not drag their eyes over his girls figure. Though, he couldn’t blame them when you looked like that. Who wouldn’t look? He couldn’t take his own eyes off you.

Enjoys the sharp inhale you make when he pulls your back against his chest, leans his head close to you and asks if this muppet is bothering you, darling?

Loud enough for the other man to hear, but John doesn’t even bat him an eye, keeps his eyes trained on you. Revels in the fact that you press your self deeper into his touch, slotting your ass closer to his hips. The man always excuses himself with a quiet ‘my apologies, sir’ but John doesn’t even care, really. Too focused on his pretty girl to pay attention to anyone else.

He always leaves these events too early, especially for a captain. Should probably stay later than most considering his rank, but he can’t help himself. Staring at you for just a couple hours in a pretty little dress without burying his cock inside you is almost unbearable.

Truthfully, a quickie in a closet or spare room might suffice, has taken you away from these parties just to return shortly with a new hickey adorned on your neck and his cum dripping down your thighs. But a quickie is never enough, not sufficient enough for John.

John’s body is burly, grooved into protruding muscles, smoothed over with a layer of fat and thick curly tufts of brown hair. Sinewy muscles and meaty, pure strength.

And you.

Well you are chubby, soft and round. Pretty doe eyes encased between plump cheeks. The perfect delicacy for him to melt into.

Being captain comes with its stresses, especially at his age. Pieces of his patience are shaved away with each passing day. His back aches, knees popping everytime he squats, temples pulsing terribly behind his eyelids. He’s sore most days than not, irritated and tired behind his desk. Moronic and insolent sergeants ruining him to his wits end.

It’s draining ordering those around who will not listen. But his sweet chubby wife, you, make up for it. Quite obedient you are, never has to tell you twice. Perfect acquiescence entangled in each little dimple on your flesh.

Coming home to you is easy. Hoisting your plush thighs either side of his head is even easier. Melting his aches and pains away with his face buried in your cunt. You tend to be hesitant sitting on his face, nervous that you will squish him to death. It’s cliche, but he mumbles refusals to you one too many times.

Nonsense, darling he wishes to be smothered by you, couldn’t have a better place to be.

It’s the truth, savors the image of you above him. Bulge of your belly pressed to his nose, breasts plump and heavy, drooped low, so he can see your nipples, pert and rosy. Thighs thick and suffocating around his face, pretty little mewls muffled to his ears by your flesh. Soft fat blocking his view of your face, can only get a glimpse of it if you angle your head a certain way. Something he usually would not appreciate, but he enjoys the expanse of your skin just as much.

Spends his time between your thighs, makes you cum on his tongue several times before he’s pleased enough. Keeps his large palm fisted around his cock while he does so because the taste of your arousal is just as addicting as your fat. Could finish like that, sat atop him, cum on his lips. Has before, but you do not prefer it that way. Sweet as you are, you are quite greedy, or maybe he has just spoiled you too much. Always want him to stuff you full of him.

And he does, without a second thought because your pussy feels even better wrapped around his cock than his tongue. It’s only fair that you match him, puffy and swollen cunt compares to his fat cock.

It’s a tight fit after all, but you can take it, can’t you, sweetheart?

Transfixed on your curves, the way your belly squishes together when he bends your legs back. Rolls smushed, breasts spilling to your sides from the weight of them. Each thrust is like a cascading wave, watches it ripple over your body, fat jiggling softly. He can never spend nearly enough time grazing your flesh, wishes to sink his teeth into every inch of fat until it’s all his.

He likes being pressed above you, fucking you messy into the sheets, but he thinks he likes you on top just as much. Weighed down under your heavy body as you ride him. Finds too much pleasure watching your chubby thighs try to fuck yourself on his length, legs shaking from exhaustion, whining weakly as you paw at his chest. Beg him to fuck you, that you simply can’t lift yourself any longer, can’t smash his fattened tip against the right spot.

What’s wrong, sweetheart? He’ll drawl, palming at your breasts, Can’t make yourself cum, huh? Come on, use those thick thighs of yours.

And you do try. He spoils you, but teasing you is just as satisfying. Enjoys watching you struggle to make yourself cum until tears are welling in your lashes and all you can do is rut your hips against his.

He gives in eventually, flipping the two of you around. Folds you how he pleases because even through it all he can still carry you easily. Fucks you the way you want, the way you deserve after being subject to his torment for so long.

Though it’s not just sexual gratification. You’re always warm and so soft. His worries seem to dissolve under your touch, snuggled tightly around you. Harden edges melt into your plush flesh, face buried between your breasts more often than not when lying together. Pulls you atop him, the heavy weight welcomed, grounds him of sorts. Even if his breath does become strained, you lull him to sleep.

He’ll wake up to the both of you sweaty and clammy, struggling to adequately fill his lungs with air, but he only pulls you closer, not quite ready to leave the confines of his girl.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

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Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

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Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

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"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

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Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

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[saintkaylaa]

insecure curvy reader…

(ft. choso, kento, satoru, toji, sukuna)

note: for anon, i hope you liked! I didn’t include everyone just bc the jjk lineup is so long😢 but if i didn’t include the one you wanted just lmk! also don’t mind the horrible attempt at sukuna but I included him (and Toji) bc i feel like they go feral for curvy women. (same tho). also, after a baby!reader on choso🫰🏽

warnings: body dysmorphia?, weight/size discussions, suggestive, sexual remarks, f!reader, curvy!reader, pregnant!reader

— choso

— kento

— satoru

— toji

— sukuna

[sunday-bug]

Dressed Out

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Curvy!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Content: unprotected p in v sex, public sex, mirror sex, reader has insecurities about her body

18+ Minors DNI (NSFW)

Synopsis: Bucky takes you shopping for a formal dress and you struggle to find the perfect fit until he lends a hand.

A/N: Thank you to my gorgeous, big-brained friend @buckybarnes82 for this idea based on this ask!

The fabric clings in all the wrong places - bunched around your hips and stretched too much around your chest. It's clearly a size too small. You eye the sizes of the other dresses and pray that one will fit correctly, not wanting to have to ask for a size up in everything in front of him. You accidentally ruffle the dressing room curtain as you shimmy out of the cocktail dress. 

“You okay in there, babe?” He asks from the velvet cushioned stool outside. 

“Uh, yeah - yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, trying to stay calm. Clothes shopping is never your idea of fun, but dress shopping? It’s your worst nightmare. Finding something that hugs you in the right places and is forgiving in your least favorite spots is basically impossible. You take the next dress off the hanger - a dark blue off-the-shoulder floor length gown - and step into it. The fabric is a bit more stretchy, and you are able to zip it up all the way. You turn in the mirror and examine yourself, searching for imperfections.

“Any luck?” He calls again, and you hear him stand up and walk to the curtain. He starts again, quieter this time. “Do you need any help? Zipping up, or…?”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you say, pulling at the fabric where it’s hugging your backside a little too closely. Almost a win, but not when you turn around in the mirror. It’s just too… much. No way you can go to the Governor’s Ball in this. You unzip it quickly and don’t bother to hang it up, just setting it on the chair in a heap. Before you even pull the next dress off the hanger, you’re skeptical. The sequined material is sure to be too rigid to accommodate your curves, but you step into it anyway. You get it over your hips, but can’t zip it up all the way.

“Fuck!” You whisper-shout, feeling a lump forming in your throat. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can I come in? Let me help,” he says sweetly. You look at yourself in the mirror and swallow, not wanting any tears of frustration to fall. 

“No! Don’t come in!” You plead. “I - I’m fine. We might have to try a different store. I’m not having much luck here.” You step out of the sequined dress and put it in the growing pile of rejects on the chair. “I have one more to try.”

“Can I at least see you in one?” He asks. “There’s no one else out here if you’re shy…”

You pull back the corner of the curtain and peek your head out. “I’m not shy. It’s just that none of these look right, ya know… on my body.”

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I seriously doubt that. You look good in everything.”

You close the curtain again as you get into the last dress - a dark red number with a low back - and zip yourself up. “Liar.”

“I wouldn’t lie, baby,” he whispers, his voice still close to the curtain. “Now let me see you.”

You shudder at the sight of your bare back in the dress and rip the curtain open in frustration. “See? This looks awful-”.

Bucky cuts you off with a whisper, “Fuck me.”

“What?” You ask, embarrassment heating your cheeks. Your arms come up instinctively to cover your middle as Bucky walks toward you, offering a hand.

“Spin,” he demands. “Spin around.”

“Bucky, no - this doesn’t look right on me,” you mutter.

“It looks perfect on you. What are you talking about? What don’t you like about it?” He asks as you spin around for him, showing off the entire gown. 

“It’s just a little - fitted?” You manage, shrugging.

“And that’s a problem?” He looks at you with hungry eyes as his hands skate over the curve of your waist.

“Isn’t it?” You prompt, standing back and gesturing to yourself in the dress. “Dresses like this are for someone… smaller.”

His eyes snap to yours and he registers your feelings. His brow furrows and he caresses your face. “This dress is made for you. It fits you like a damn glove, baby. It shows off everything I love about you - your hips, your back…” he continues, whispering in your ear, “your tits look fucking amazing. Come here with me.” He guides you back to the dressing room and latches the curtain closed behind you both. “Look in the mirror for me.”

You obey and look at your reflection. “What don’t you like? Tell me,” he says softly, his breath ghosting over your bare back. 

“The back is really open,” you admit, twisting to look at it in the mirror. He runs his knuckles down your spine and makes you shiver. 

“It’s gorgeous. I can see my two favorite freckles here and here,” he says, circling them on your skin. “What else?” 

You run your hands over your stomach and hips. He puts his hands over yours. 

“You really don’t see how fucking stunning you are, do you? Your hips drive me insane,” he kisses your neck as he says it, his tongue darting out to nick your earlobe. “And trust me, the view from back here is incredible.” He palms your ass through the dress and you feel a jolt of electricity vibrate through you into your core. 

“Wear this tonight so I can take it off of you later,” he begs, turning you to face him. 

“Bucky…” you start, watching his pupils dilate.

“You’re beautiful. Let me make you believe it,” he whispers, unzipping the dress with a steady hand and letting it fall to the ground, leaving you nearly naked in the mirror. “Let me worship you.” His hands are everywhere - your breasts, your waist, your ass, your thighs. Every place that you shy away from on yourself is where he gravitates - caressing, kissing, kneading, grabbing - until you feel his arousal through his dress pants. His hand hooks your underwear to the side and you welcome it. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me see you.” He unzips his pants and pulls out his cock - hard and ready.

“Be quiet for me, okay?” He whispers, kissing your neck and turning you back toward the mirror. You put your hands on either side and lean forward, giving him access.

“There you go,” he hisses as he guides himself inside you. His hands grip your hips harshly as he starts thrusting into you. You close your eyes in pleasure as he works.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see what you do to me,” he mutters. You flick your eyes open and see his focused expression taking you in - all of you.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

You feel your orgasm building and grip the edges of the mirror with fervor. “I can’t - fuck - I don’t know if I can stay quiet!” He brings a hand up immediately to cover your mouth and watches as your eyes widen and slam shut as you hit your peak. He lets out a not-so-quiet whimper as he feels you come around his cock. 

“God damn it,” he whispers, pulling your arms behind your back, pushing your breasts out and into the mirror. “Look at you. You’re so soft and fucking perfect. I’m gonna cum,” he announces with a groan. You shush him as you feel him fill you up, his hips stuttering in pleasure. He pulls out after a few seconds, pulling your panties back into place. 

“Look at me,” he says, turning your face to his. “I know I can’t magically make any insecurities you have disappear overnight, but I wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you. And not just this,” he says, gesturing to your naked body, “which is tempting as hell, but you - your mind, your heart, your empathy for others. You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, sexiest woman I’ve ever met. I need you to tell me you know that.”

You swallow another lump in your throat, but this time it isn’t from frustration. “I know that, Bucky. Thank you.”

He kisses you softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You both hear footsteps enter the dressing room, “Do you need any help with the dresses?” The sales lady’s familiar voice echoes into the room.

“No, I’m fine!” You say quickly, your face beet red.

“She’s gonna take the red one. I was just helping her get unzipped,” Bucky says casually, walking out of the room and shutting the curtain behind him. “She’ll need some shoes to match. Think you can help her out with that?”

“Of course, Congressman,” she replies.

You smile and shake your head in the dressing room as you get back into your normal clothes before walking out to meet them. 

“I think I’ll take a look at your lingerie, too,” you tell her as you wink slyly at Bucky who’s holding his heart like you’ve just stabbed him. 

“You’re gonna kill me, darling,” he whispers as you head to the shoe department.

“You kill me with kindness everyday,” you reply. "It's only fair."

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized canon)

—

“Marks” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| After you and Jason’s first time together you have some suggestions.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, post sex happenings, hickies, bite marks, descriptions of naked bodies - vigilante!reader & curvy!reader

| Goddamn I love this man so fucking much. Also, the reader-insert has waist beads because the imagery came to me and it was too good to pass up.

| The pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story (Pic source: Gotham Knights video game)

| 1k+ words

A yawn cracks your already sore jaw and you let yourself relax, basking in the heat of laying with Jason. Being wrapped in his embrace with your head on his scarred chest was by far the calmest portion of y’all’s night, but definitely no less amazing.

Maybe ten minutes later you sigh before forcing yourself from his bed. The vigilante complicates your plans though, with the way his arms are locked around you.

You scowl down at him from your position halfway sat up. He’s done nothing but slip down your body, head resting closer to his arms on your stomach and the practical muscle that sat beneath.

“Ni— Boy, get off me,” you say, voice light with your mirth as you push halfheartedly at his arms.

Jason cracks one eye open with his cheek squished into your body, forehead pressing lightly into your beads.

“Nah,” his breath puffs warm on your umber skin, “I’m comfortable here.”

His deep voice peters off into a satisfied grumble towards the end and you choke on a laugh. Your stomach shakes and your core aches with the remnants of the workout he just put you through.

“Come on, where could you possibly need to go?” He murmurs the question into your skin, presses quirked lips to you to kiss your soft belly.

You huff out an amused noise, ignoring the way your stomach flutters, and run your hand through his hair. Jason sighs into the touch, melting under your fingers. It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen; you fist your hand and pull against those loose curls anyway.

You feel a little bad at the utterly miffed look he throws you and give him an apologetic smile.

“I have something to do Jason.”

“What cou—”

There’s a visible second where you watch as Jason pauses, catching himself. He pulls away and sits up till his back’s against the headboard like you just caught on fire. His hair is a mess of wild curls and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat with red kiss bitten lips, by all means the image of post orgasmic bliss. Or he would be if it wasn’t for the way his eyes have hardened and those ruddy lips have twisted into a scowl.

“I mean,” he gives you a one shouldered shrug, “if you want to leave I’m not gonna stop you.”

Your brows go up some and you slip off the bed to stand, crossing your arms in the dim light of the room from the one lamp still on.

“What?”

“You wanna go then go,” he grunts. You don’t think he means for it to sound so thin.

‘Oh,’ you mouth with a nod of your head. “Jay, who said I was leaving, period?”

“You just did.”

His face pinches while he waves a hand to indicate you and you're honestly a bit thrown. Somehow it hadn’t crossed your mind that his aloofness on the field could be played up, but the reality is staring you right in the face. You sigh, arms dropping and then crawl back onto the bed.

The faint, tender redness around his eyes after you’d driven him to release made more sense now.

Jason stiffens, your dewy skin sliding up against the pallor of his inner thighs catching exactly how tense and hard his muscles get, but you push past that to peck his cheek.

His glare stutters just a little bit.

You speak slowly now that he’s willing to look at you again.

“I am going to take a piss, Jay. That’s literally it.” You nod to the singular window in the room. “Unless you bodily throw my ass out that window I’m staying until I have to go to work, okay?”

After a beat he nods, watches you hard, assesses. You stamp down your own urge to tense, making sure to stare back calmly instead. Jason’s not going to attack you out of nowhere.

It’s incredibly unlikely at least.

And he doesn’t. Only taking a few seconds in the night’s stillness to search your face then roving around to check the rest of you. You make sure to keep yourself relaxed; which isn’t a hardship since he’s not even alarming you. Hell, you just asked him to make you scream and he obliged with open enthusiasm, it’d be weird if he did.

Satisfied Jason eventually pushes further away from the headboard with another nod. To anyone else, anyone not in y’all’s line of work, his inspection might have seemed inappropriate, even threatening, but you know what he was looking for. You weren’t good enough to hide the lines of deception in your body language from him and he knew it.

Not, especially, when you were stark naked at his hand.

You hum, “We good now?”

“Peachy,” he says and you let some of your pleasure at that show on your face. Hard won progress was often the best progress after all.

He licks his lips then, a slow smile spreading across them in response. There’s a flash of teeth as he grins.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Your lips quirk and you duck your head to hide the evidence threatening to bloom on your face.

“Yeah, you can see me again tomorrow,” you nod. Another thought comes to you in the next second and a grin splits across your face, your dark eyes lighting up. “Maybe I’ll even kick your ass for a second night in a row and everything.”

“You ambushed me,” Jason points out, eyes narrowing playfully.

When you lean into him more he easily welcomes your weight. With your lids low over your eyes and your lips brushing his, you meet his blue, ever calculating gaze.

“And you were impressed,” you murmur over his mouth.

When you quirk a brow, daring him to argue, Jason only chuckles and pulls you into a quick kiss. Or at least it’s supposed to be quick. Jason’s lips are soft, if you run your tongue along his bottom lip you can feel the permanent devit there from taking one hit to the face too many, his body’s warm and his hands on you are hungry. It’s tempting to go another round, it really is, but you’ve got to deal with this or it’ll be nagging at the edges of your mind the whole night.

You pull away.

“Bathroom,” you say pointedly.

Jason lets you go after one more peck on the lips, reclining so he can watch the way your ass moves as you make your way there. You add a little bounce to your step just for him.

So preoccupied with the near miss in the bedroom and how giddy Jason in general makes you feel — his eyes on you, his hands squeezing you, his voice in your ear and that gruff Bowery accent, the fact that you’d be seeing him again — you forget to do anything other than close the door to his attached bathroom before you sit on the toilet.

That oversight is pointed out instantaneously.

Your pussy queefs. There’s a beat of silence where your head snaps up and you stare in front of you wide eyed and then low raucous laughter flutters in from outside.

It barely lasts ten seconds but for the life of you you can’t stop the way your head drops into your hands and how your face heats up.

“That mean I do my job right, Gorgeous?”

Against your better judgment your own laugh bubbles past your lips.

“Oh my god,” you mumble into your palm.

You make sure you finish up there thoroughly though, because yeast infections were no laughing matter, before getting up to wash your hands.

You’re opening the door to leave when something catches your attention.

The telltale bruising of a hickey stamped onto the side of your neck. And another one a centimeter below the first. Then a trail of two more; one on the curve of your right breast and on the skin covering your sternum. Shifting a little more brings to attention a bite mark against the pouch of your stomach next. Your brows raise.

“Hmph,” you hum in mild surprise before aborting your leave to lean closer to the mirror.

About four hickeys in total. Four bruises that he managed to suck into your skin hard enough that they were fairly prominent against your brown tone. Deep in color and just a tad tender to the touch.

There’s only one bite mark though. Supple around the edges, but only a little tender to the touch. It’s clear upon closer inspection that he’d revisited the spot though, the imprint of his teeth vaguely overlapping a few times.

You snort.

“You okay?” Jason asks and your eyes immediately slide to the doorway because he sounded much too clear.

Sure enough in your exploration Jason hadn’t even bothered to slip on his boxers and traveled closer without your notice and was now doing the worst imitation of someone who couldn’t care either way what answer you gave him. Aloof your ass, you’d stalled for nary a minute and he was already by your side with a downturned quirk of his lips.

It was amazing how cute he was for being a man that the descriptor wouldn’t normally be prescribed to, who you’d monitored through coms cracking a man’s shoulder blade in one strike. It was especially difficult to ascribe the word cute to him when he was drawing closer. You’re both naked — because what are clothes when you’ve been inside of and have had someone inside of you? — but your jaw still goes slack at all not-insignificant pounds of your bed partner sidling up to you. Jason’s all thick thighs and torso, corded muscle covered by a layer of fat that’s only noticeable cause he’s not flexing; he was, in short, a sight.

You swallow.

He is a very nice to look at man, and you knew that before you got involved with him, but there was something even better about being able to see him like this; naked and not afraid of it. For your eyes only. Scars and all.

“Uh huh,” you draw out in a sigh that’s far too dreamy before clearing your throat and allowing a tiny coy smile to take over your lips. “Somebody got a little…excited.”

You shove your thumb at the mirror and give him a pointed look. He falters, brows furrowing, but braces a hand on the frame and leans enough into the bathroom that he can watch you in the reflection.

He stays momentarily transfixed. Catalogs each bruise, eyes greedily wandering over the dark newly adorned expanse of your neck and chest and stomach. A smirk plays on his lips.

“God, you look so fucking good like that,” he murmurs.

He snaps out of it when he absentmindedly makes eye contact and sends you an apologetic look.

“Shit, I mean, sorry. I should be more careful next time, huh? That’s my bad.”

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I like the marks, Jay. Some more would’ve been even better, actually….”

His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck prior to him giving you a lopsided grin. “Well gee,” he jokes, “I’ll have to keep that in mind then. I just didn’t want to scare you off our first time.”

You nod, “So considerate, Jay. I’m only telling you for — you know? — next time.”

“Mm,” any leftover sheepishness slips from his face, replaced by that easy smirk again as he enters the bathroom. “What I'm hearing is that you're already desperate to have my cock back inside of you. Is that it, Gorgeous?”

You tamp down the wanton sound that immediately climbs up your throat. Although by the way Jason’s looking at you your attempts at lessening its volume by biting your lip have failed.

He chuckles, eyes lighting up, and grabs hold of your waist beads to pull you towards him. You go with a surprised ‘oof’ as he manhandles you. Once you’re up against his chest he wraps his arms around your middle and shifts to kiss at the side of your neck. Right over a particularly prominent bruise.

You laugh as he noses along the brown of your skin, following the short trail of marks he left. Large hands run down your plush thighs before squeezing and pulling your bodies flush together. You moan softly, head thrown back, as your ass meets his hardening cock.

“Oh fuck…”

“Yeah,” Jason nips at your neck, thrusting into you with a groan, breath leaving goosebumps along your flesh. “Don’t worry, Gorgeous, I’ll be way more thorough this round.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!🫶🏾

Finally posting my back up fic; this one’s a cutie. Just a cozy, sexy little gal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Your boss +1

orc!boss x curvy!human!Reader Good to know: mention of sex, nudity

Previously: [orc] your boss [orc] your boss +1

Summary: You spend the last hours of the year with your boss.

A/N: This is my last story for 2024. 🎉 I want to say thank you for all your kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. I hope you will stay with me in 2025 and Happy New Year! 🎆🥳

The air is thick and heavy, carrying the unmistakable scent of sweat and sex. The heady musk clings to your damp skin, filling your senses with every breath as a reminder of what just happened. Your legs, still sprawled wide and nestled in the tangled mess of blankets, tremble uncontrollably with the fading echoes of your climax. Every inch of your body is alive, tingling as if each nerve ending has been set ablaze. You feel raw and overwhelmed. Your chest rises and falls in shaky, shallow breaths. Each inhale catches slightly as you try to steady yourself and the still thrumming beat of your heart.

“Are you alive?” The orc’s deep, gravelly voice rolls through the quiet room. The deep rumble wraps around you like a blanket, sinking against your every curve and making you quiver all over again.

“Barely,” you murmur, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Your gaze follows his towering, muscular form as he crosses the room. He is bare under the dim light of the city that filters through the large windows. The amber glow illuminates the hard plates of his board chest and every powerful line of his body. His cock, soft and spent, bobs between his thighs with each step he takes, and you can't help but stare.

"A picture would last longer," he teases with a lopsided grin.

When he climbs back onto the bed, the mattress dips under his weight. There is wet cloth in his hand, and you shiver even before you feel it. He leans forward, lowering the rag toward your still-sensitive heat. The soft press of the fabric against your tender skin is overwhelming, and a cry slips from your lips as your hips jerk, arching into his hand.

“Hey!” you exclaim, but the orc only leans over. His rough lips find their path across your chest. His mouth trails slowly between your breasts as he works his way up until he finally meets yours in a slow, calming kiss.

"Maybe there’s another round in you?" he teases.

“Oh, no way,” you laugh breathlessly as you push his head away. “One more, and you really will kill me.”

"That would be a tragedy,” the orc sighs with mock regret, his eyes glinting with humor. He gives one last, gentle wipe between your thighs, letting the rag soak up the final remnants of his handiwork, then tosses it aside.

But even as he leans back, his attention doesn’t waver. His eyes roam slowly over your body. He takes in the sight of you, lingering on the peaks of your hard nipples, the rolls of your stomach, and the inviting curve of your hips. His gaze drifts lower to the fullness of your thighs and finally rests on the swollen, glistening flesh between them. He looks at you as if you are the finest work of art he’s ever laid eyes on, and he can't wait to worship you again. Your heart races under the intensity of his admiration, and every inch of your skin tingles.

"I will never let you go out of my bed," he murmurs, settling down beside you. His firm, solid frame presses against your side, his legs tangling with yours, and in one smooth motion, he rolls you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His large hand slides down to your backside, and you can feel the roughness of his fingertips as they caress the tender skin there. He draws slow circles over the skin he spanked not long ago.

“How will I work then?” you ask, snuggling closer and pressing your face against him. The hair covering his chest is soft under your still-flushed cheek.

“Why would you do that?” the orc grumbles.

“How else would you see me in my skirts all day?” you reason with a mischievous smile creeping onto your lips.

He pauses, considering, then lets out a deep, thoughtful sigh. “Ah, yes. Those tight skirts of yours…” His hand stops its gentle caresses as if he's deep in contemplation, and then, a grin spreads across his face. “Fine. You can keep being my assistant."

"Good," you say, laughing softly as his arms hold you just a little tighter.

For a long while, neither of you speak. You simply bask in the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his chest under you. His hand, ever so gentle, continues its slow exploration. First, it drifts down to your bottom, then glides up across your spine in smooth, lingering strokes.

Time seems to stretch, the world outside fading away as the two of you exist in this calm, content bubble.

Then, the night sky suddenly bursts into life. The distant crackle of fireworks fills the air, followed by bright flashes of color that illuminate the room. You both turn toward the window, where the dark sky is set ablaze with brilliant hues. Blues, reds, and golds explode above the buildings, lighting up the night before fading into the darkness just as quickly as they appeared.

"It's midnight," you hum softly, the words slipping out in a whisper as you gaze out at the fading fireworks.

"Hm," the orc murmurs in response, shifting you slightly in his arms just enough to look down at you. "Happy New Year."

You crane your neck, your breath mingling with his as you whisper, "Happy New Year." The words fan over his lips before they meet them in a deep, all-consuming kiss.

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[jaderabbitt]

thinking about bucky finding nearly all shapes, sizes, and color of women attractive-- but specifically having a thing for curvy women / curvy!reader (as I mentioned in A New Kind of Love)

holy fuck I got carried away LMFAO OOPS, explicit content under the cut!! mdni!!

he was an avid bachelor in the 40s, and some things never change. he may not be as good as he once was when it comes to flirtations, but he's still got charm and he knows it. what has changed is the women who walk down the streets of new york city.

women wearing trousers was not unheard of, but was unusual. now, women wear clothes that are skin tight and accentuate all the right places.

bucky considers himself a respectful man, but even he is not above temptations.

his eyes would be trained on your figure as you walked around the apartment in your sleep shorts and a fitted tank top. you weren't intentionally trying to tease him--in fact, this was simply the most comfortable thing you had to wear around the house on a hot spring day. new york weather is temperamental; one day it's 80 degrees fahrenheit and sunny, and the next it's high 50s with rain for 5 days in a row.

humidity is also rampant, given the city is essentially interconnected islands. the climate is humid subtropical, meaning there's spring tropical storms as well.

put all that together and you get humid, hot days where a thin sheen of sweat coats your skin near permanently. you're sweating in places you didn't even think you could sweat in before. your thighs are chafing from the moisture combined with friction, the undersides of your breasts cling to cotton as you forego a bra. your ass is damn near eating your shorts with how they ride up, but you could never be bothered to find ones that fit loosely.

bucky, however, is too damn caught in how you must've been carved in venus' image. your skin glistens as if it were tempting him to have a taste, your clothes cling to your curves so beautifully that he might as well already have you nude beneath him. he's already painfully hard at the thought of fucking his cock in between your closed thighs, abusing your body's natural lubricants. his hands would grip the fat of your waist, clinging on to your softness like a lifeline.

he'd absolutely eat your pussy like a man starved, reveling in the salty addition of the sweat mixed with your slick that had been gathering from the minute you saw his dark, lazy gaze roving over your shape. his hands would knead the plush fat of your stomach as he dips his tongue inside of you. he gets so worked up over how sexy he finds your full figure that he'd have to grind against the sheets to relieve some of the pressure.

bucky still worries about losing control over his strength during sex, but the natural padding of your body eases a lot of that concern. he allows himself to get lost in the act--he knows that you can take him. one hand is calloused and hot against the expanse of your belly, the other cold and hardened, gripping the sheets tight enough to rip apart seams by your head. his hips piston into yours as he sheathes his length into your wet, aching heat. he adores the whines and gasps he forces out of you--he knows that he's the only one who ever has, and ever will, fill your cunt so completely that you can feel him all the way to your cervix. most men simply don't have the equipment to do so with your body, and he loves that thought.

when he knows he's getting closer to the edge, he'll wrap his arms around the curve of your back, slotting them between the pillowy rolls of skin and lift. it comes at no strain to him; his only goal is to press the soft curves of your figure as close to the hard, muscled planes of his own as he can. the change in angle has him hitting right into that special spot that makes you keen and arch into him even further. he'll press his temple into the space between your neck and shoulder and become very vocal all of a sudden, grunting and groaning by your ear. but, it isn't because of the effort it's taking him to hold you up, oh no--it's because he's trying not to blow his load before he's made you come one last time.

"Need you to come, baby-" he'd hiss, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

he genuinely might tear up because he's unintentionally edging himself while trying to make sure he gives you the pleasure you earned by doing absolutely nothing but being so goddamn pretty.

he'd thank you for letting him worship you as he cleans up his spend from your thick thighs with a warm rag. you're just a bit confused because all you did today was clean up around the apartment in the loungewear you've probably worn for three nights straight and he's acting like you gifted him the sun and stars.

[ivystoryweaver]

Congratulations on one year! You are such a bright light in the Tumblrverse. : )

Could I request a very soft dom Jake tying a fem reader's hands with his tie? Bonus if she's a fluffy lady. If that's not your thing I totally understand and no worries. I love your writing and I cannot wait to catch up with all of it. <3

Wahhh it took me so long, I'm so so sorry. Your message is so sweet and means a lot! I love this idea and I wanted to give it my full attention. I know Jake is supposed to be soft dom here, but gotta make her a little spicy too, hope you don't mind. But trust me, Jake loves it, in this case.

Tied Up - Jake Lockley

Pairing: soft dom!husband!Jake Lockley x curvy/fluffy!wife!reader Word count: ~1.4k *banner does not indicate reader’s race

Content: slightly tipsy consensual activities, bondage, Jake loves thighs, fingering, kissing, dirty talk, mention of m. and f. oral, mention of p in v, mention of a safeword, language, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Happy anniversary," Jake murmured against your ear, unlocking the front door of your flat and guiding you inside with one hand firmly clasping yours.

As soon as the door was bolted behind you, he used his grip on you to spin you around, cinch you close and press his lips to yours urgently.

Dinner was delicious and you'd enjoyed just enough wine to feel warm and willing to melt into your husband's demanding embrace.

As his tongue coaxed you into a salacious, hungry kiss, his gloved hands pressed you against his body. Tracing over your curves, he groaned in your mouth as he gripped your hips and pushed you up against the wall.

"Not gonna make it to the bedroom, mi reina," he breathed against your mouth, fingers toying with the hem of your dress to drag it up over your thick thighs - his favorite part of you.

Grabbing him by the tie, you yanked him closer, if that were possible. "It's my wedding anniversary, Mr. Lockley, you better treat me right."

"Si, Señora Lockley," he purred, kissing you again before guiding you by the hand to the kitchen, of all places.

"Sit down," he ordered, pulling his black leather gloves off his fingers one at a time as you slowly complied.

"This chair doesn't seem very comfortable. Not when we have a brand new bed in the bedroom," you playfully complained.

With his gloves removed, he used them to trace along your cheek before leaning down close to your face. "You don't need to be comfortable to come all over this chair. You just need to do what you're told."

"Really?" You taunted. "A minute ago, it was 'mi reina' this and 'mi hermosa esposa' in the car, and now you want to boss me around?" Reaching for his tie again, you yanked, bringing his mouth to yours. Licking his lips, you worked his mouth open, kissing him deeply before biting down on his plush bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss.

"Mmm, hold this for me," he said, nonchalantly stuffing one glove in your mouth to silence you.

Your eyes shot open wide at his boldness, but you could feel dampness pooling in the lace panties you'd bought just for this occasion.

Standing back up, he unknotted his tie and slowly pulled it free from his collar. "Spread your legs for me."

You thought about defying him, just to see what he would do, but you were so intrigued, and getting so wet that you decided to comply.

You opened your legs wide which automatically pushed the skirt of your dress over your thick thighs, revealing your panties to your husband.

He licked his lips, but moved around behind you. "Be still for me," he murmured against the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Tracing his fingertips down the length of your arm, he gently maneuvered both of your arms behind the chair. You gasped through the glove in your mouth as you realized he was tying you up with his tie.

He secured your wrists, but left your arms loose and comfortable enough to not distract from the inevitable incoming pleasure.

Easing back around to see your face, he wet his lips at the sight of you tied up, luscious thighs spread wide for him, dark, damp spot staining your gorgeous panties. And the tiniest bit of drool dribbled out the edge of your mouth where his glove was gagging you.

"You want this," he nodded, a self-assured glint in his dark eyes making you pull against your restraints, even as wetness leaked onto the chair between your thighs.

Kneeling down worshipfully, his eyes glazed over with lust as his hands touched your bare thighs. "You're soaked." His thumbs lightly massaged you as his fingers inched higher. "I can smell you."

You moaned through the leather glove, thighs practically shaking in anticipation. "How fast can I make you come if I put my tongue on you, mi reina?"

His fingers finally found the hem of your panties, teasing your hip bones, making you whimper, eyes begging for his touch.

He traced lazy, nonchalant circles on your bare skin, just underneath the soft lace, tracing closer to your aching center.

You whimpered his name, muffled by the glove. His eyes darkened with lust, locking onto yours.

Fingertips finally found the weeping, wet core of you, stroking your folds with a featherlight touch.

Your hips bucked against his hand, desperately seeking some friction, or anything besides his teasing. One corner of his mouth curled as he he cupped your mound with his whole hand, forcing you still. But even that bit of pressure from the heel of his hand on your clit made you moan, pushing your hips into him as best you could in this vulnerable position.

"Take what you want. I won't stop you," he taunted as you started pushing your hips against his whole hand, grinding on his palm, whimpering in slight relief at the friction.

"Fuck, baby...so hot. Fuck my hand. Take what you want."

Your hips bucked harder and faster, chasing anything you could get. Seeing you so desperate for his touch - your strong, broad hips working back and forth, your gorgeous, thick thighs spread wide for him, make Jake groan and push two fingers deep inside your pussy.

You sobbed in relief as he massaged your walls, meeting the rocking of your hips with expert curls of his fingertips inside you. It took a few more strokes deep inside and one swipe of his thumb over your clit for you to explode, pleasure completely blinding you.

Your muffled scream turned Jake on beyond belief, and he watched you carefully as tears leaked out of your eyes and drool dribbled down your chin. Your walls gripped his fingers, wetness gushing all over his hand as you pulled against your restraints.

"Fuck honey," he panted, watching as he made a complete mess of you in just a few minutes.

Your body shook with pleasure and overstimulation as he stroked you past your orgasm until you slumped back against the chair.

"You okay?" He asked, carefully removing the glove from your mouth and peering into your eyes.

You quickly nodded, panting as he touched his forehead to yours. With a quick kiss to your parched lips, he got you a glass of water and a towel to help clean up your mouth and tracks of mascara down your cheeks.

Once you had a minute to recover, he kissed you again. "I hope you're not too uncomfortable, because I'm not done with you yet."

"Is that right?" You shot back. "And what if I'm done with this damn chair?"

"You want out of the chair, all you have to do is say the word." He stared you down challengingly.

Of course you and Jake had a safeword. But it was a huge standoff between the two of you to never use it. You had pushed one another time after time, seeing who would break first. You had only said it once when you were really dizzy and disoriented one time.

He'd never used it, the fucker.

So you knew you were in for a long time in this hard chair if you weren't willing to give in.

Which you weren't.

Damn him.

"All right, tell me what I have to do, besides say it, to get out of this chair and into my new comfy bed so I can ride you the rest of the night," you said with a pretend yawn, in a bored voice.

Jake shook his head at you, but the corner of his mouth was curling in spite of his "stern" expression.

"Well for starters, you can come on my tongue," he began, "And then you can use that pretty mouth for something more than mouthing off."

"Fine, unzip your pants." You shrugged one shoulder, acting so nonchalant.

Jake's eyes flashed at the challenge. Your bare thighs, dress bunched up around your hips, mascara-smeared face and glistening pussy were enough to almost make him come untouched, but your smart mouth was going to be the death of him.

"You first," he answered, kneeling down between your legs.

It was gonna be a great anniversary, trying to see who would break first.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

1st Ficiversary Masterlist | Jake Masterlist | Moon Knight Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[lostinlovingrevery]

Pretending

Logan X F! Curvy! Reader

Plot: Logan spots you across the bar, and he can't resist...

A/N: Just a lil something to get through my writers block....

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive, Logan gets a lil horny looking at readers body, reader is described as curvy! Wrote this with Trilogy! Logan in mind but you could really imagine any Logan?

Word Count: 1390

The bar tonight was crowded, filled with drunk patrons, smooching lovers, and chatty groups of friends. It was a lively atmosphere, with colorful lights strung along the walls and windows, pop art decorated the walls. A jukebox in the corner played various songs, ranging everything from Led Zeppelin rock, to Madonna pop. The music though was drowned out by the various conversations heard throughout the bar, talks of politics, days at work, customers placing orders was picked up throughout the place.

Logan was leaning against the bar counter, the wooden edge pressed into his back firmly. He held a smoldering cigar between his lips, his arms bent and resting against the counter, hands hanging loosely. His eyes observing every single person in the bar, taking in the details of their faces, their mannerisms. Logan was familiar with places like these- although this bar was a lot nicer than the more hole-in-wall places he frequented in the past. It wasn’t filled with shifty characters, who would so much as kill you if you even looked at them. 

That was the past though.

His hazel eyes continued trailing across the room, casually puffing the cigar as small billows of smoke would escape his lips. He adjusted his weight on his legs, almost like he was impatient, his fingers rapping along the wood. His eyes kept looking, and looking, and looking…

Until they landed on you. 

You were absurdly gorgeous. It felt like the crowds and atmosphere of the bar disappeared when he looked at you. The way your hair was done- style in a way that framed your beautiful face, your plush cheeks. Your makeup was done, a deep red painted your lips, brown eyeliner outlined your eyes- so bright and full of life- and mischief. Mascara highlighted your lashes and how every blink you made fluttered against your cheek. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

They trailed down to your neckline. You were adorning a black dress, something with straps that barely stayed on your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The cloth of the dress hugged the curve of your body, something that could be compared to a goddess. In Logan’s mind anyway. He felt perverted by the way his eyes lingered on your very pronounced chest, the cleavage that was exposed and made him want to leave bite marks all over it. They trailed down to your belly and hips. The way your belly stuck out- like a pouch, with love handles that he desperately wanted to grip onto, to pull you onto him and make you whine. Your tummy was something soft that made him want to squeeze every inch, with how it accented your figure beautifully, making you something completely desirable. Your ass and thighs, plush and round. He could see how your cheeks could fill his hands perfectly, and your thighs would fit wonderfully around his head. The slit in your dress that goes up your thigh, exposing the skin there made him practically drool. 

You were standing on the other side of the room, on the other end of the counter in which it turned into a L shape, giving him a full view of your person. You looked relaxed, and nonchalant, as you carefully sipped your martini, your eyes glancing around the room once in a while, taking in the small crowds of folks having a good time. You looked lonely. 

Logan pushed himself from the bar counter, pushing past the crowd, as he practically rushed to be at your side. He nearly shoved one poor patron to the ground, which he quickly helped up, muttering a half-hearted apology as he still stared at you. Not paying attention to the way the guy scowled, and multiple people threw looks his way.

Fuck Logan, you need to focus.

He reached your side, not saying anything at first. You sensed him there, then heard him, as his knuckles rapped along the bar counter, calling the bartender and asking for a whiskey, neat. His voice is low and alluring. You snuck a peek at him, a faint smile on your face. He wasn’t looking at you. Funny, seeing as he’d been staring at you for several minutes straight; Looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. Then practically charged over by your side like a bull, knocking over some innocent bystander as if you were going to fade from existence if he didn’t reach your side at that moment. 

It was silent between you both, and you watched the bartender pour him a glass of whiskey, in which he took, nodding to the bartender in thanks, then sipping it carefully, the glass tapping on the counter as he set it back down. 

“Lonely tonight sweetheart?” He finally asks, his leather-clad arm brushed against yours. You finally look at him. Goodness he’s handsome. His hair, deep brown, slicked up and back, something that reminded you of a cat- certainly didn’t move like one. His fuzzy mutton chops living down his jaw to his chin- which complimented his facial structure extremely well. His hazel eyes, deep and dare you say- resembled the eyes of a begging puppy, just so pretty to look at. His lips stretched into a knowing smile. He wore a black leather jacket, a flannel underneath it, and dark blue jeans. God he was irresistible just by his presence alone. 

You gave him a flirty smile, fluttering your lashes, as you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over it, your chest leaning in, and giving him a full view of your large cleavage- which he, not-so-discreetly glanced down at. 

“Nope.” You say simply, tone firm and concise, before looking away. 

He smirked at your answer. “Names Jimmy.” 

You looked back at him, “Jimmy…Really?” You grinned. You didn’t know how long you could keep up the appearance, with how cute he was being. 

“Yeah, can I get a name from you, doll, or do I gotta beg?” 

“Begging sounds fun.” You hummed, looking back at your drink, your finger circling the rim of the glass. 

“How would you like it? On my knees?” He leans in, a hand brushing over your lower back, sliding over to your hip, his thumb rubbing circles against the cloth of your dress. You felt a deep blush come across your face. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Jimmy.” You mutter slowly, your eyes darting away, but your body leaned into his warmth. “You shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Why not?”

“Because we are on a mission...” You muttered. You were trying to be serious, but your shaky tone could tell he was getting to you. He grinned. “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for this guy. Not hitting on me.” You say, looking up at him, with those pretty eyes he adored so much. He knew he would break you the moment he said the name you so affectionately use for him after learning his first name was actually James. 

You two were trying to lure in some scum part of a trafficking scheme, in order to get intel. You were the bait, to draw him in. He was jumpy, and usually had friends nearby so getting close, and It’s been something you’ve been working on for weeks, frequenting this bar, getting his attention, creating conversations between you two, earning trust. Scott was typically the one standing guard in the bar in case something went awry- everyone knew the moment Logan saw this guy around you, it would drive him insane and risk the whole plan- so Logan, to his displeasure, was forced to stay out of it. Tonight though, was the final step, to lure him out into somewhere private- where Logan will jump in, grab him, and that’s when the interrogation begins. You should have known that Logan wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.

And maybe, you were taunting him by wearing his favorite dress on you.

“Can’t help it when you look this good, bub.” He mutters in your ear. You tried to suppress your smile. “Suppose I’ll leave you alone.-” He begins to move away from you, and you already missed his warmth, but then he turns back, and you feel him pressing against your back, heavy and large- a distinct bulge against your hip. He leaned down to your ear, his voice a low growl, “Just so you know though, later tonight, you’re all mine.”

[cowboycherry]

🍒 :; slim pickins

summary!

bf! rafe x chubby! reader. you’ve been seeing the ‘slim pickins’ trend going around, and you beg your boyfriend to do it with you.

inclusions/warnings!

fluffy, fluffy, fluffy!! reading through it, i think it’s a bit rushed?? rafe is a cutie and loves his girlfriend. reader is referred to as ‘baby’ and ‘mama’. slightly suggestive at the end. reader is chubby and NOT insecure bc we love self confidence round in these parts. just a little itty bitty blurb bc i’ve been seeing so many people do this trend and it makes me want rafe to do it w me

word count!

400+

ˏ`୭̥*ೃ author’s note! :; dropping this before i finish editing a request for a sebastian stan fic! super excited for that, but have this fluffy rafe blurb for meantime. (also, i’m making a tag list since i’m going to start writing more, so if you want to be added to that lmk! you can request to only be added to certain fics and such, just lmk what you want, angels.)

i love you, and thank you for being here ♡

“raaafe,” you pout at your boyfriend, tugging on his bicep in a poor attempt to make him stand in front of your propped up phone. “it’s easy! already explained it t’you— you just gotta pick me up and, like, sit me on your shoulder.”

rafe glances down at your hands tugging his arm, an amused smile on his face even though he doesn’t want it to be there. he just can’t help it. “yeah, baby, and i told you that i don’t wanna be in any of your lil tiktoks,” he snorts, but he allows you to pull him in front of your phone.

“but it’s a couple’s trend! well, for the most part,” you hum to yourself, eagerly stepping away to get the timer ready. “okay, the lyrics are ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’ and you’re just s’posed to lift me somewhere while she’s singing that,” you explain animatedly, definitely rambling more than is necessary.

“uh huh. got it,” rafe nods once, and even though he looks much less enthusiastic than you are, he’s still happy that he’s making you happy.

you start the timer, quickly padding back across the hardwood floor to him and standing in front of him. “three, two…” you count down quietly, more for yourself, and then mouth the lyrics along to sabrina carpenter’s voice.

you’re unable to stop the squeal that escapes you when rafe effortlessly grips your hips, hoisting you up and perching you onto his shoulder like it’s nothing. his hand moves to comfortably rest on your thigh, gently squeezing the flesh there.

the tiktok is done filming, the video playing back on a loop as giggles bubble past your lips- both from being a little flustered by your very attractive boyfriend and from awe that he didn’t seem strained in the slightest. “i didn’t expect for you to do that so easily,” you admit softly, your hand resting on top of his.

rafe scoffs, “the fuck does that mean?” he asks you, but you can hear the playfulness, the teasing in his tone. “think i’m weak or somethin’, mama?” he grips your hips again, but instead of planting your feet back onto the ground, he drops you onto the couch.

“rafe?” you murmur in confusion before shrieking when his fingers start to dance over your ribs.

“can’t believe it. my baby doesn’t think i can fuckin’ lift her,” rafe tsks in mock disappointment. “guess i need to start showin’ you better, huh?” he grins mischievously down at you, leaning in and starting to press kisses from your face down your neck, and you know you’re in for a long afternoon.

© cowboycherry 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my content. all work is my own, and until further notice, will be proofread by only myself.

[slut4megantheestallion]

Kakegurui girl's x Curvy! Reader Headcannons.

- Yumeko jabami

● She's practically in love with your body,She loves your hips, thighs, and curves, and she loves it all. She'll sometimes get really close to you so she can feel your body. She is in love with your figure. She's your biggest supporter she loves to show you off to others that your body belongs to her, and only her.

-Mary Satome

• At first, she was jealous of you and your body, but he couldn't help but like your body later on. She was mesmerized by your curvy figure. She'll glance at your body in secret she just discretely admires your body in awe. Sometimes, she'll get flustered seeing you in pants or a tight dress seeing your curves hug tightly so she can admire your body more. She'll compliment you on your body and ask you questions on how your body is like this.

-Kiari Momobami

● You were scared and confused by kirari, taking a liking towards your body, honestly. She had never seen someone with a figure like yours, so she was quite fascinated and hooked. She'll have you wear outfits that hug your curves quite well. Some of them were quite inappropriate or to revealing, but she died care she is the leader of the student council, she can do whatever she pleases, She loves when you wear the outfits that she picked for you during the councils meetings just for her sweet pleasure.

-Ririka Momobami

•She's very shy about looking or gazing at your body she didn't want to freak you out. But she will sneak a little glances or sneak peeks here and there. She thinks your body is so pretty. She blushes a lot when you sit down or stand up, admiring your curvy figure. She's not thinking anything perverted or anything she just imagines seeing you wearing a tight skirt or pants that would nicely hug your curves.

- Midari Ikishima

• Midari being a perverted loveable freak she is. She is totally obsessed about your body, your curvy hourglass figure, and thick thighs. She'll sometimes have thoughts about seeing you naked and how she can do anything to your body. When you're sitting down She'll sneakily look up up your skirt looking at your thighs and squeeze them. (She looks at your underwear too~) she'll sometimes smack your ass, mark your body, and she'll be awe the way it jiggle and squeezable it is.

-Yumemi Yumemite

• she loves your body and has you wear cute and tight outfits that hug your curve graciously, making you sing and dance in front of her fans on her shows. She'll give you very specific outfits to wear that show off your body, and she'll sneakily take pictures of your body when you're not looking . Trust me, she has a collection on her phone.

-Itsuki Sumeragi

•She has an obsession with nails, which is an addiction, but when you first stepped into the picture, your body figure was her latest new obsession. She's in love with your body. She'll constantly go buy you clothes and have you try them in front of her, but really, she just manipulating you into wearing these outfits for her own sexual pleasure.

-Runa yomozuki

• Runa is quite in love with your body. She uses your thighs as pillows when she's gaming. Sometimes, the election committee would sometimes get distracted staring at your body, while runa just rest her head on your thighs having a smug look on her face and would make threats letting them your body is for her and only her's~

[selfishdoll]

❛I MISSED YOU...❜

Can you focus on me? | Baby, can you focus on me? ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ FOCUS

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

sometimes, even the grandmaster is tired and wants nothing more than to be with the woman he loves.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNINGS.

ooc bi-han, wife!reader, bi-han is tired but never too tired for you, soft dom!bi-han, praise, pet names (my love, darling, sweet girl, etc). breeding kink, mentions of being stressed, multiple orgasms, etc..

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

bi-han is always written as a hard/mean dom in bed & while i love that, i feel like he’d be gentle and sweet when he wants to be. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

Being the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei meant many things. Bi-Han surrendered himself to his duties, ignoring all other distractions to assure his clan remained strong, upholding the title for a proper leader. What others saw as cruel was simply his way of surviving amongst opposing forces. He dedicated time to the skin Kuei, even if it meant spending days away from you.

The day you two married, Bi-Han warned you his focus couldn’t be on you everyday— that his duties as Grandmaster came first. He spoke as if you would become a nuisance, a needy brat that begged for his attention. When realistically, it was the opposite.

When the man found moments to himself his mind would drift to you, pondering on what you were doing; were you smiling? Eating? Sleeping? There were times he nearly ordered someone to snatch you away from whatever you were doing to have you by his side. Bi-Han simply missed you that much. Your touch, scent, skin— he spent agonizing hours away from you, dampening his mood by each passing one.

The Lin Kuei knew when to avoid angering him during this time.

Today was just like the others; saddled with work and attending his duties. But Bi-Han was tired, frustrated he couldn’t see you wake up and fall asleep. Annoyed your hands were gliding across his skin, soothing his worries. He wanted, needed to see you.

So the man dragged his tired body to your shared bedroom, hands clenched at his sides as he refused to let anything step in his way. Bi-Han was sure a single interruption would cause him to break.

The man gripped the bedroom door, opening it, entering, and shutting it behind him. His eyes cased over your sleeping form; body curled up on his side of the bed, a blanket tossed lazily over your naked form, head pressed against his pillows with your pretty curly braids sprawled across the silk sheets. Bi-Han clearly remembers demanding them for you the moment you asked. From your sight alone he felt his body relax, walking over to the bed and sitting infront of you. Taking one more glance at your curled up body, the man leaned down to slowly push off his shoes— warming the moment he felt your arms wrap around his body, face pressed into his neck.

“My love..”

“I apologize for waking you.” Bi-Han spoke, finishing removing his shoes and rising from his hunched position. His hands gently traced your arms, eyes closing with a soft hum.

You shook your head, pulling yourself closer to him, chest flush against his back. “Don’t apologize.” You murmured, releasing him the moment he began to turn around. Silently, the two of you move closer, lips pressing together; slowly drinking the other in.

Words were no longer needed, your mannerisms speaking enough.

The lip locking continued, Bi-Han leading you to lay on your back, resuming the kiss the moment you touched the sheets. He sighed through his nose, pressing his forearm above your head as he deepened the kiss; tongue pushing into your warm, wet mouth to claim as his own. Licking into you, other hand rising to gently cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your heated skin.

Moments of passion passed before he pulled away from your, warming the moment your soft hands came to cradle his face. Your foreheads pressed together, breath fanning across the other’s face and resting their silent, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Shortly after the man leaned down once again, kissing you deeply— a newfound heat consuming the affection. His hand traced down your form, ghosting your plush skin; feeling the way your stomach clenches when his hands so much as drags across your mound.

“I missed you, dearly.” The man admitted against you, hand rising to your hip, fingers sinking into your flesh from his tightly he was gripping. As if you would suddenly drift away from him. His grip was met with a lock of your arms around his neck, bringing your bare hips up to his own covered ones. “I missed you.” You whispered back, hands coming to curl in his hair, the grip tightening the moment he pressed against you.

Bi-Han was used to teasing you during times like this, withholding what you wanted until you used your words. But he was far too pent up, to do such a thing tonight. He needed you desperately and his own antics wouldn’t stand in the way of that. So before you could even open your mouth in pleas, he was removing his clothes; tossing them off to the side in a small pile.

He rested on his hunches, grabbing the underside of your thighs, spreading you for him. He nearly groaned at the beautiful sight, your pretty slit glistening with your essence, clit begging for his attention. All the two of you did was kiss and yet, you were this wet.. something Bi-Han will always wear with pride.

“Seems I don’t have to prep you..” The man dragged in a teasing tone, grabbing his length and pushing the cockhead against your entrance. Slowly he pushed in, your warmth engulfing him, causing a shudder to run down his body. It’s been quite sometime since he’s felt you, been inside you— and he could never shake the amazing fall of your around him. Sucking him in, clenching as if refusing to let go.

A soft whine escaped you as he continued to enter, pulling him closer by the hair, ruining his bun. “I.. I did say I missed you, Bi-Han.” You breathed as his hips stilled the moment he was fully inside, warmth spreading across your body as you relaxed around him.

The man leaned down, a hand releasing a thigh to cradle your face as his lips ghosted your skin. “I know, darling. I know.” He spoke softly, pulling his hips back until only the tip was inside, before thrusting back infront of you. Bi-Han watched the way your pretty, bruised lips fell apart, eyes threatening to close as your eyebrows furrowed together. Your breaths were steady, for now, fanning across his face.

It didn’t take long for the man to pick up pace with each thrust, rising to grip your waist, holding you perfectly in place for him. Driving you into the bed with each movement, hearing the way your moans grew and grew, walls clenching and time he dragged in and out of you.

During times like this, Bi-Han wished to drop a few responsibilities as Grandmaster.

His hand lowered, pressing against the small of your back and raising you, driving into you at a different angle that caused tears to well in your eyes. You were so sensitive both from such a long period time without sex and because you had only woken up a few moments ago.

“Mm—! Bi-Han!”

“Mhm..” Your husband hummed along to your sweet moans, leaning over your body. “I feel terrible.. leaving my sweet little wife so pent up like this.” The man spoke, using his body to push your legs up high, thighs brushing your chest. He watched in enjoyment at the way you came undone from the new position, walls spasming and clenching around him— nearly making it impossible to move. Bi-Han breathed, leaning his head down to kiss your damp face. “That’s it.. I’ll repay for every single minute I was away from you, sweet girl.”

Promise hugged his words, releasing a hip to reach between the two of you; using two fingers to circle your wet, swollen bud. He followed you when you jumped, whining about the sensitivity while attempting to run from his deep thrusts. But he didn’t let you, hooking you close and refusing to release you. You were completely at his mercy, mind lost to pleasure as he rocked in and out of you all while his thick, rough fingers rubbed against your bundle of nerves.

You missed him, missed this. How he so easily ruined you, washing unnecessary thoughts from your mind and replacing them with him. And only him. Your fingers raked his scalp, leaning up to catch his lips in a deep kiss; one he eagerly returned.

Soon enough you that familiar feeling invaded your stomach, causing your legs to shake and your pussy to clench. You pulled back with a loud moan, head pressed against your pillow as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull.

“Oh..losing yourself, are you?” Bi-Han spoke slyly, messily quickening the pace of his fingers, ignoring your hand coming to wrap around his wrist. He felt your walls clench and clench, your stomach caving in as your thighs shook— cumming all over him and the bed, release dripping down your ass. “Look at that.. such a mess you made for me, my love.”

Despite this, his hips never stopped, continuing to fuck you even as soft cries of too much! escaped your raw throat. Bi-Han only smiled, leaning down to kiss your hot skin, declaring just one more and you can take it.

The man’s thrusts continued, becoming uncoordinated and sloppier by the second, tip pushing against your cervix with, pleasure washing the pain away quickly. He bit his lip, silence his deep groan as he spilled into you— head going slack the moment you came again, milking him completely.

Heavy pants surrounded the room, your legs sliding from his shoulders to lay on other side of him, still shaking from the aftershocks. You breathed heavily as he moved his hips experimentally, assuring every single drop got inside of you.

“You’re going to break me.” You spoke softly, hearing him release a breath of amusement. He leaned down, hand tracing the side of your face and leaning to curl into your hair.

“Maybe.. but not tonight.”

You smiled at this, wrapping your arms tight around him and bringing him even closer as if trying to meld your bodies together. “I missed you, Grandmaster.” You ignored the way his cock twitched inside you from your words, feeling his hand drag across your skin, breathing you in with a pleased sigh.

“I missed you, my beautiful wife.”

[mcrdvcks]

KENDRICK!!! DROP MORE BEEFY BUCKY WORKS AND MY SOUL IS YOURSSSSS🫵🫵🫵🙏🙏

luckily anon, i have this one, and others, in my drafts. i even made a masterlist for my beefy!bucky x curvy!reader drabbles, lol. i have a lot more to come! they're so fun and freeing to write.

anyways, i hope i'm not the only one who when i try and wrap a towel around me after a shower, it barely goes around my chest and then won't completely wrap around my hips. idk maybe it's just me

warnings/tags: fluff, soft!bucky, implied!beefy bucky, curvy!reader, towel problems, implied smut at the end

beefy!bucky x curvy!reader masterlist

The bathroom door creaked open, steam spilling out into the bedroom like fog on a battlefield. You stepped into the cooler air, clutching the too-small towel tighter around your body.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, tugging at the hem to cover more of your thighs, only for the top to loosen. No winning.

All the larger towels had disappeared—probably stolen by Sam again. You were left with the smallest one in the stack, barely wide enough to wrap around your hips. One wrong move and everything would be out in the open.

You glanced toward the bed, thinking maybe you could sprint to the dresser and—

“Baby.”

You froze.

Bucky’s voice came from behind his book, still stretched out on the bed in grey sweatpants and a black tee, metal arm propped casually under his head.

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

He lowered the book. His eyes dragged over you like a slow caress, lingering on your legs, the towel’s strained knot, the droplets still rolling down your collarbone.

“That towel’s doing a terrible job,” he said, voice deep and warm and dangerous. “And if you don’t wanna lose it…” He swung his legs over the bed, standing in one fluid motion. “You better run.”

Your breath hitched. “Bucky—”

“Not even kidding.”

You squeaked and darted toward your dresser, nearly slipping on the wood floor. Your grip on the towel faltered.

Bucky caught you in three strides. His arms caged you from behind before you could open the drawer, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You know I’d never laugh at you,” he murmured, voice softer now. “But I gotta admit…” He kissed your neck. “You, in that towel? Might be my new religion.”

You relaxed slightly against him, still flushed. “It’s barely hanging on.”

His nose brushed along your damp shoulder, the scruff on his jaw dragging a slow, tantalizing line that made your knees wobble. “Then let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

You turned slightly in his hold, just enough to meet his eyes—blue and stormy, dark with heat. His hands settled on your hips, fingers spreading wide like he was claiming territory. The towel shifted dangerously.

“Bucky…”

He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then lower—his lips ghosting over your pulse. “You walk around this place like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, voice rough now. “That’s the problem.”

The knot of the towel gave a desperate little tug as his fingers brushed it, testing. Not unwrapping it yet—just waiting.

You swallowed. “They could hear us.”

“We’re in our room.”

“Still.”

He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin toward him, his metal thumb grazing your jaw. “You’re worried about the team hearing me worshiping the woman I love?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Sweetheart, I want them to know. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

The towel slipped.

You gasped and tried to grab it, but it was too late—Bucky’s hand was already there, catching it and letting it fall deliberately to the floor.

His gaze raked down your body like a prayer. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

You crossed your arms on instinct, trying to shield your stomach, but he caught your wrists gently, bringing them to his chest.

“No hiding,” he said softly, kissing your knuckles. “You don’t have to cover yourself around me. Not now. Not ever.”

You looked at him, still flushed, but something in your chest loosened. His hands were steady. His eyes didn’t flicker once from your face, your curves, your everything.

And then—he picked you up.

Just lifted you like it was nothing, arms wrapping under your thighs and around your back, holding you against his chest as he turned and walked the few steps back to the bed.

“You’re gonna let me show you,” he said as he laid you down gently, reverent. “What I see when I look at you. What you do to me. What you deserve.”

[deepdisireslonging]

Cake or Cookies

A good round of sexy texting during girls’ night leads to sexy personal time when Bucky gets home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Reader

Warnings/Promises: food mention, descriptions of injuries (canon-level), dirty talk, sexting, SMUT, oral (both receiving), implied further smut

Word Count: 3080

Note: They can pry the Avenger Apartment/Tower from my cold dead hands. Everything’s fine, everyone is fine; what trauma? Why can’t we have nice things? I went hunting through some of my lost prompts and found a couple to squeeze together. Happy reading!

Girls’ night in the Tower was bound to be dangerous. It was usually when Natasha came up with the next round of pranks to play on the boys. And when Wanda took it upon herself to create the best pillow fort to watch movies in. Her magic made it easy to pile the couch pillows and blankets into what looked more like a cozy cave than a fort. And Maria kept track of where to find any films not already stored in Stark’s library.

You were in charge of snacks. Drinks were cozy only: tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Alcohol parties were for other nights. Snacks ranged anywhere from home-made chips to hors d'oeuvres (fancy and simply indulgent), to the smorgasbord of mass produced favorite snacks you raided from the corner bodega. But you were stumped when it came to tonight’s desserts. The bodega’s sweet treats were present, cheap candy and the like, but you were stuck between the roll of cookie dough and a box mix for cupcakes.

Stumped, you didn’t acknowledge the warm body that ghosted up behind you until a hand slid across your waist. “It’s girls’ night. What are you still doing here?” Sitting down the treats, you turned in Bucky’s arms and scratched your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lightly kissed your forehead. “Needed a break from Tony. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

You both inhaled deeply, cheek to cheek. The last mission had been a rough one. Most of the team had come back banged up. And you still had a nasty scrape of road burn up one leg. Which is why you were wearing the equivalent of biker shorts. Pepper had gotten them for you sometime after the social media trend of those leggings ladies liked to tease their S.O’s with. They were surprisingly supportive of your form. You usually wore them underneath your gear because they were borderline indecent. But, with one of Bucky’s oversized shirts covering your figure, nobody had commented.

Except for Bucky as he slid his hands down your body to rest over the curve of your ass.

“I thought these stayed out of sight?”

You teased a glance up at him. “Usually, yes. But It’s girls’ night. We all wear the equivalent of our pajamas since you boys will be out. You are all going out, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Eventually.” But he didn’t move. He hugged you closer, brazenly tilting your head to one side with his nose so he could kiss the underside of your jaw.

“Y/L/N!” Natasha waved from the living room. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

A smile spread across your face. You lightly pushed Bucky away, making him whine. Natasha was already starting the voting poll for the evening’s movies when you turned back to the counter. “I’ve got to bake before the party starts. Do you have a preference for what sweets you’d like to be left over? Cookies or cupcakes?”

Bucky pressed up behind you, resting his large hands on the counter on either side of you, and griding his front into your ass. “Cookies. There’s enough cake in this kitchen already.” He slapped your ass, following with both his hands taking tight squeezes of your flesh.

As you gasped, he rushed out. The wink he shot you from the door warned you that the tease would not be the evening’s last.

Fifteen minutes later, the cookies were out, the movie was in, and everyone was settled into their favorite pile of pillows.

Five minutes into the movie, the texting started.

Lover Boy <3: “How’s the movie?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your phone on silent. If Okoye heard your phone again, you’d never get it back. “We’re watching Magic Mike. So… It’s going well.” You added a smiley face with its tongue sticking out for good measure.

Bucky’s messages popped up every few minutes. You kept your phone screen towards you to see the notification light up your screen without bothering the other women.

Lover Boy <3: “Should I be jealous?”

You: “Nah. Their gyrating doesn’t do it for me.”

Lover Boy <3: “Good to know.”

Lover Boy <3: “Is there anything in the movie that does ‘do’ it for you?”

You smothered a chuckle into your blanket. Each passing second that you took to come up with a teasing reply was surly wreaking havoc on your man.

You: “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

His reply was slow in coming. When it did, you almost fumbled your phone into the floor.

Lover Boy <3: *image incoming*

The picture you received was of Bucky’s hand resting on the top of his thigh. They were out to dinner somewhere, the edge of the table blocking your photo view from the rest of the guys. In the curve between his forefinger and thumb, his bulge was the center of attention. You stuck a sucker in your mouth to cover up your gasp. But the other ladies were too busy hooting for the first dance scene to notice.

You: “Just him? I must be slipping. Especially since I thought you really liked my shorts earlier.”

Lover Boy <3: “I like those shorts because I like taking them off. Girls night got in the way.”

You: “You’ve got to come home sometime.”

Lover Boy <3: “Then what do you have in mind?”

You turned off the flash for your camera and waited for the TV screen to illuminate your face. Sucker holding down your tongue, you sneaked the pic. Before any of the girls could see and tease you. While it sent, you sucked on the round sugar treat. You imagined Bucky’s cockhead on your tongue, as you knew he would too. His reply came in seconds.

Lover Boy <3: “Minx”

You: “And?”

Lover Boy <3: “When I do get home, I’m going to taste something sweeter. All night long.”

Lover Boy <3: “If you can handle it.”

Biting your lip, you smiled into your blanket.

You: “We both know what I can handle. But can you handle what I want to do to you?”

You: “Bet I can blow you so good you forget how to speak Russian before morning.”

You: “Actually, bet I can make you forget all your languages.”

Lover Boy <3: “An official bet?”

Now it was dangerous territory. Neither of you would wager anything that would show in public. Or bring attention from the team inside the tower. But Bucky’s winnings had a steep cost on your ability to walk the next day. Yours usually meant him taking a few days off to spend time together in some distant cabin.

You: “Do we have time to disappear to the Rockies when I win?”

Lover Boy <3: “We just finished a mission. I’m sure I can convince Steve to leave us alone… at least for several nights in a row when I win.”

It was on.

He played dirty by escaping to the bathroom to shoot you a picture of his cock. It was already thick for you, proud and flushed in his palm.

You also escaped. But the picture you sent didn’t require you to take your clothes off. All you did was tug down the front of his borrowed shirt, and splay your fingers wide between your breasts.

You: “Can’t wait to squeeze you between these.”

Lover Boy <3: “9hey now…”

Good. His texting was already stumbling.

You: *picture incoming*

All you did was rest your hand over your throat. But Bucky’s reply of a bunch of scrambled letters made you laugh. You returned to the movie.

You: “Can’t wait for you to get home. But we’ve got about 3 more hours of movies to watch. Think you can last that long?”

Lover Boy <3: “If I have to. Might have to take care of myself before then.”

Wanda looked over as you squirmed in your seat.

You: “You can’t wait for me? I’ll wait for you.”

When the movie lit up enough, you took a picture of the pillow between your thighs.

Lover Boy <3: “Promise?”

You: “Say please.”

His reply, despite the distance between text and actually hearing his voice, dripped with promise. You bit your lip, hearing his growl in your head.

Lover Boy <3: “Since when do get to make the demands around here?”

Lover Boy <3: “Please.”

You: “Since I’m home. Away from the consequences of mouthing off at you till later.”

Lover Boy <3: “You’re not sharing this conversation with the ladies are you? You’re not usually this… sassy.”

You: “This sass is rated E for everyone. But, no. This conversation is just between us.”

You: “I have to stop texting. Natasha is beginning to notice.”

Lover Boy <3: “Until I get my hands on you:”

It was several minutes until you checked your phone, waiting for the others to drop their questioning looks. When you did, you had to smother your moan. He sent one last picture of his tongue out between his fingers. A promise of delectable problems to come.

***

Somebody texted the guys when the movies were almost over. They arrived halfway through you girls cleaning up.

“How was the double feature?” Tony asked. He snagged a remaining hors d'oeuvres off the tray before Maria could stick it in the fridge.

You didn’t hear the reply. All you could focus on was how lust-blown Bucky’s eyes were as he stared you down from the other side of the room. You pressed your thighs together. If the way your chest heaved was any indication, you were in for a long night. Steve barely gave you a glance when you walked past him. Bucky gliding past made him give your departure a second look.

The hallway to your room was dark. The lights that illuminated the floor wouldn’t engage fully unless there was an emergency. Which meant that your shadow was faded against the wall. And it was fractured into several clusters of shadows at reach installation. You didn’t look back. It was part of the game. You couldn’t hear him, but sometimes you could have sworn your shadows had an extra layer.

When you reached for your door handle, another hand beat you to it. Bucky pressed up behind you, pushing you into the room and pinning you to the inside of the door as he locked it. He slid his knee between your legs. Fascinated, he enjoyed the show as you slid the apex of your thighs across the muscle he gave you. He stopped your movements with a hand on your hip, while the other lifted your wrists above your head.

“Did you actually wait, or was that a tease?” He reached into your shorts, groaning to find your slick there. While you trembled, he loudly sucked his middle finger into his mouth. “Oh, ангел, I am going to ruin you. For teasing me like you did.”

“You – you started it. Technically.”

He brought one of your hands down to rest over the front of his pants. “Maybe. But you laid down the gauntlet. How do you want to do this?”

With a grin, you wriggled out of his grasp. You walked backwards towards your bed. Bucky stalked slowly after you. Turning, you ran your hands down your sides, to your hips. And back to the curve of your ass. “Cake?” You smoothed your hands up from your rear to your breasts. “Or cookies?”

Bucky groaned. “The whole damn bakery if I can get my hands on it.” He guided you onto the bed, crawling over you in a way that stole your breath. When you tried to roll him onto his back to begin the challenge, he chuckled. “Nuh-uh. Challenger goes second.”

“But-“

He silenced you with a kiss. As he deepened it, hands kneading into your flesh and removing your clothes, your rebuttal died on your tongue. He barely pulled back enough to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before he was working his mouth down your body, kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin until he made it to your sex. 

Sometimes part of the challenge included a timer. Like that one gala when he dared you steal away with him during Tony’s speech, and cum before the ending round of applause. With his head buried under your dress, he won with enough time to participate in the applause for a speech you didn’t give a damn about. You didn’t find out till later that Steve had kept track of when you two disappeared and reappeared. Bucky wrote the time on your bathroom mirror as the time to beat. It had yet to be broken.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times. There was all the time in the world. All night to edge or overstimulate each other to your hearts’ content.

Breathing warm air over your sex, his grin between your thighs sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. You weren’t sure which was more disarming: his knowledge of your body and its sweet spots that he could make you cum in minutes, or that same knowledge used to bliss you out over hours till you couldn’t remember more than screaming his name. With his tongue, he began the challenge. As if you weren’t soaked already, he made a mess of you. Curling his fingers through your folds. Delving his tongue deep in search of the ability to taste you for days. When he scraped his teeth across your clit, the electricity tightened your fingers in his hair.

He wasn’t drawing this out. A man on a mission, Bucky was doing everything he could to bring you to the brink as fast as he could. The speed that you hurtled toward release stole your breath. That was his plan. Shock you while trying to beat his time so that you wouldn’t be able to speak. And then he’d win double the bragging rights.

And, damn him, it might just work.

Hungrily, he slurped up your pleasure. Adding a third finger to his onslaught, he curled them all to make you see stars. His metal arm flashed out to pin down your hips before you could arch away from him. The metal was cold, frigid, against your flushed skin. The difference in temperature was enough of an overload to your sparkling nerves that your eyes screwed shut. You babbled a series of sounds, making Bucky hum in delight.

But when he came up for air, gently stroking your folds to ease you down, you surprised him.

“Is that all you got, Barnes?”

“Fuck. Seriously?” He rested his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

You did your best to steady your breath. No point in revealing those six words were all you could manage. After another moment, you curled your own finger. You summoned him to hover over you, dangling his dog-tags in your face. Catching one between your teeth, you gripped and pushed his shoulders until he was on his back.

It was your turn to kiss down his body. Across his collar bone and pecs. Down that center chasm between his abs. From one hip bone, down his V, and up to the other side. As you took his length in hand, you had to smile. The poor man should have let you pleasure him first, instead of torturing himself and his cock with waiting. Gently, you circled your thumb around his tip. It dragged a groan out between his teeth. Good. The more vocal he was, the better you could track his ability to speak. Or lack thereof.

You set the challenge into the back of your mind and got to work in pleasing your man.

The first movements were gentle. And careful around how sensitive he was. Still, each touch and twist kept his voice active. He tried to watch you, but kept dropping his head back in pleasure as you quickened your movements. While he was laid back, you shifted your position.

His head snapped up, and he cursed loudly in Russian as his cock was enveloped between your breasts.

Darting out your tongue, you kitten licked the tip of his cock when it came into range. It gave you no small pleasure to watch your man, the Winter Soldier and former Commando, fall to pieces because of you. He cursed louder in English, Russian, and… was that German? But the more you jerked him between your breasts, the more his vocabulary scrambled together. You waited patiently. His metal hand twitched towards to before fisting the sheet. His flesh hand reached back for the pillows, sheets, headboard. Anything to ground himself. Then you struck. You let go of your breasts and dipped low enough to swallow him down. He roared as he bumped the back of your throat. Planting his feet on the bed, his thighs trembled with keeping himself from thrusting into your mouth.

That was fine. You moved enough for the both of you. And, just as his Russian was little more than the most strained of curses, you settled his balls into one hand, and slid the other up his torso. Your nails lightly caught his skin over his heaving breaths.

The high-pitched hiss from the depths of his lungs was your only warning before he filled your mouth.

Your ministrations slowed. You took every ounce of his pleasure, and smiled around his cock as you sucked your way off his length.

He dragged you up to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His lips trembled while trying to say something. Anything. But all he could do was pant into your skin.

You smiled. And kissed the underside of his jaw. While you both recovered, you murmured gentle reassurances between breaths.

“You cheated,” he finally managed.

“Oh? When did I manage that?”

Running his fingers through his hair, he stared you down. “Those damn shorts.”

With a laugh, you nipped at his chest. “What? You did get to take them off, like you wanted. And I can’t help it if you decided to run your hands all over me and get yourself hard. It jazzed me up too. So, in my mind, we’re even.”

“Fine.” He tilted up your face to kiss you. Mumbling against your lips, he complained, “you’re using alotta words there, ангел.”

“And you’re still capable of Russian.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess this challenge isn’t done.”

And it wasn’t until long into the night.

***

Ангел: angel

***

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist