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perdidosbucky-yyo · 5 months

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𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛

Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)

Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3

a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.

this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺

7:51 PM

“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone.

As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”

Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.

Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.

You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”.

They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.

9:05 PM

“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.

You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood, each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.

10:39 PM

“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you.

And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.

“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.

Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.

On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.

This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.

Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining.

??:??

You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.

“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.

Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.

Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.

Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.

Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.

As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.

A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.

Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return, not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.

He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.

12:59 AM

Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.

He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.

Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.

1:55 AM

Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference.

Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.

2:12 AM

After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.

You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.

Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying…

Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.

Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.

“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.

His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously.

In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.

Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs, “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe…

“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky.

You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.

He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.

You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.

3:45 AM

The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location.

Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so, he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.

4:05 AM

You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.

Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well.

“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.

Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.

4:38 AM

After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.

You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.

Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.

“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.

Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.

“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.

You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…

“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.

Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #exoticdancer!bucky #stripper!bucky #sebastian stan #carrot's harvest #Spotify

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ro-is-struggling · 5 months

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Dark Side of Me || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The plan you and your friends had come up with to celebrate your 21st birthday was simple: go to as many bars as you could in one night and stay out of the hospital. You weren't a big fan of it, but everyone had done it and now it was your turn. However, things went off the rails quickly and you ended up being dragged to Heroes, a superhero-themed strip club. You thought it was a bad idea, until you met the cold, piercing blue eyes of the Winter Soldier and simply couldn't look away.

Or the one when reader gets her first lap dance

Warnings: stripper AU, stripper!bucky x innocent!reader, suggestive tones, lap dance (I tried really hard), no actual smut, alcohol consumption, reader giving in to peer pressure, fem reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 4400

Notes: I watched magic mike the other day and apparently I am now obsessed with stripper aus. The movies have a softer side that I wasn't expecting but I loved it and that's the vibe I'm trying to recreate here. If you want to understand some of the dance moves I'm trying to describe here you should watch the movie! I tried really hard with this one (describing dancing is waay harder than I thought so I hope it makes sense)

I’m open to writing more of these two, so let me know if you’d like that and don't hesitate to stop by my asks/messages if you have any ideas!

tagging: @asgards-princess-of-mischief

What had started out as a night of celebrating your 21st birthday quickly went off the rails and turned into something completely different. The plan was to get wasted —legally this time—, visit a couple of bars and get home before you ended up in the hospital. You weren't usually a party and alcohol lover —you just went to have a good time with your friends—, but you recognized that your 21st birthday was an important event that deserved to be celebrated. Besides, your friends had assured you that they would behave themselves and that things would not get out of control -well, not that much at least.

In hindsight, you should have figured that wouldn't happen. Although nothing could have prepared you for ending up at Heroes, a strip club your friends had apparently been to before. You tried to say no at first, but you were a little buzzed and you'd never been good at saying no to your friends anyway, so eventually you agreed. The place was exactly what you imagined and completely different at the same time, if that made sense. Dark, loud and warm, but much nicer than you expected. The dim lights gave it a very intimate feel, highlighting certain spaces with red or purple lights that made it look aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The music played loudly, trying to drown out some of the shouting of the women throwing bills onto the catwalk where the dancers performed their routines, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle.

From the moment you settled at your table, a sort of strange sisterhood was generated between you and the groups of women seated in your proximity. Similar to bumping into a stranger in the bathroom at a party and reacting as if you were lifelong friends, you quickly engaged in casual conversation with the group of women at a bachelorette party to your right, and the one celebrating a divorce to your left. You complimented each other's outfits, shared a few drinks, and screamed with all your might in unison every time a dancer approached your side of the stage —or made quick eye contact with one of you. It created such a pleasant and fun atmosphere that for a moment you almost forgot where you were.

It stopped being nice and fun though when your friend came up with the idea of paying for a private dance and you had to face the force of a group of women pressuring you to accept. You had made the silly mistake of letting one of your friends know that you really thought the dancer who called himself the Winter Soldier was cute. You hadn't been able to take your eyes off him during his routine. And since that was the most interested you had ever been in any of the dancers, your friend thought it would be a good idea to treat you to a private dance.

“What am I supposed to do locked in a room with him?” You panicked as your friends dragged you to a more private area of the club to wait for your gift.

“I don't know, enjoy, I guess?” She laughed, practically pushing you into the arms of the man waiting to lead you to the Winter Soldier. You wanted to snap at her, but you kept silent, embarrassed by the stranger's presence. The last thing you needed was to make an even bigger fool of yourself by looking like an innocent, prudish fool.

But the problem was just that. You were a silly, innocent, prudish young woman that didn't have the slightest idea of what to do in a situation like that. You could feel the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the screaming and the bass of the music that was getting farther and farther away. Your stomach was turning with nerves as you sat waiting in the chair in the center of the room, just as the man had indicated before disappearing behind the door. Your hands rested awkwardly in your lap, your body immobile as you contemplated your options —perhaps if you remained completely still, he wouldn't be able to see you there, it was dark after all.

You thought about running away from there. You were alone, the dancer had not yet appeared and the hallway was dark, you would probably be able to sneak out without even your friends noticing. You would send them a text later explaining everything, when you were out and away from their clutches so they couldn't drag you there again. But when you went to get up, you found that your legs didn't respond. Only this time it didn't feel like it was part of the nerves you were having at the thought of what was about to happen.

You discovered then that a part of you, hidden behind a lot of shame and fear of the unknown, was curious. You wondered what it would feel like to be in a room alone with him, what it would feel like to have him touch you —even in the lightest, most subtle way—, to have him press his body against yours as he had done on stage with a lucky girl in the audience. You'd never experienced anything remotely similar to that, you'd barely shared make-out sessions with your ex-partner that weren't particularly memorable-not in the way the Winter Soldier's dance was for you. You had the movement of his hips burned into your memory, the image of his flexing muscles popping up every time you closed your eyes. You wanted more of him, even if you couldn't bring yourself to admit it.

The sensual rhythm of the music that suddenly began to play brought you out of your thoughts. You looked up and there he was in all his glory. He was wearing a different outfit, a simple tank top and loose-fitting sweatpants. The tactical suit and mask that covered half his face in his routine had probably been left forgotten in some basket behind the stage, but you didn't mind. You could see more of him now, the real him, and you liked that. It felt more intimate, more genuine.

He could sense the nervousness in your voice when you told him your name. You had trouble maintaining eye contact with him, your eyes lingering for a full three seconds on his figure before returning to your hands. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your flowy dress. It intrigued him. He had worked with flustered women before —it was more common than one might imagine—, but there was something about you that stood out. You looked so out of place there, with your innocent look and shaky breath. Everything about your body expression told him that you wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend you weren't there. Everything except a slight glint in your eyes that he almost missed as quickly as you looked away from him. It would be his challenge to get that side of you to come out.

“That's a beautiful name,” he said in a soft voice. You smiled, but your eyes didn't search his, focusing instead on the red light shining on the wall behind him. So he leaned in front of you, settling down to your eye level so you couldn't escape. “I'm Bucky, by the way, and there's no reason to be nervous around me, princess.”

Your face warmed at that affectionate nickname and a tingle spread through your body. It had been a while since the last time someone had called you that. You liked it, it made you feel special even if it came from a stranger's mouth.

“Why did you come here tonight? You don't seem like the type of woman that frequents these places.”

“I'm not! I'm here because my friends thought it'd be a good idea... a fun way of celebrating my 21st birthday.”

“Oh well happy birthday then!” Bucky gave you a smile and you thought that was the best present you had received all day. “Are you having a good time?

“Yea-yeah, I am.” Your voice was soft, almost inaudible. Bucky got the impression that you were embarrassed to admit that out loud.

“Are you uncomfortable, y/n? Do you want to leave? Cause I can give you a full refund and let you go right now if that's what you want.”

“No!” you were quick to say, big eyes staring at him for the first time since he had introduced himself to you. “I'm just a bit... scared, I guess. I've never done anything like this before. Actually, I've never done anything for that matter.”

You didn't know what prompted you to confess to Bucky —a complete stranger who danced and stripped for a living— your complete inexperience in sexual matters, but you couldn't turn back now. You supposed it was to be transparent, though there was no reason for such a thing. It wasn't like you were there to have sex, he was just going to dance on you for a bit and then you'd go back to your normal, boring life.

“Well, then I have to let you know that you are in full control here.” Bucky spoke in a soft tone full of understanding. His cold, piercing blue eyes softened, showing a warmth that helped calm your nerves a bit. “I do have a routine, but if there's something that I do that you don't like you can just tell me and I'll stop, okay?” You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the tingle of anticipation running through your body. “Good! Are you ready?”

At your nod, Bucky got up from the floor to press play on the music. Suddenly, the silence was filled by a soft, sensual beat similar to others that had echoed through the club throughout the night. He approached you with a slow pace, his eyes never leaving your face, studying your expression. Then he took one of your hands in his and rested it on his chest, still covered by the thin fabric of his white muscle shirt. You couldn't help but notice how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. You could barely see your fingertips as he wrapped his hand around yours, trapping it against his chest. His calloused fingers didn't let go as he slowly guided your hand down, allowing you to caress his chest as he rubbed small circles over your skin. It was such an intimate touch for the situation you were in, that for a moment you forgot he was a stripper who did this for a living.

The air caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as your hand traveled lower and lower. You could feel the firmness of his abs under your fingers and the heat emanating from his skin. It filled you with anticipation, with need. You wanted to feel more of him, more of his body and his touch. More of his warmth and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. But before your hand reached his waist, he pulled it away. Your eyes shot up to his face, waiting patiently for Bucky to give you instructions to proceed.

He removed his shirt and as soon as the fabric touched the floor, his hands were on yours again, trapping them against his chest. Bucky liked the way you let him guide you, closing your eyes as you enjoyed something as simple as the feel of his skin under your fingers. He was used to dealing with more... confident women. They knew what they wanted and weren't afraid to demand it. Their hands were always everywhere, touching his crotch without hesitation every chance they got. But you were different. You didn't know what you wanted —what you were missing— and you were willing to let him show you. He enjoyed the slower pace, it was a nice change that allowed him to try new things. So in a way, you were both experiencing something different there.

Your eyes suddenly widened as you felt the fabric of Bucky's sweatpants brush against your fingers. Your face heated up, embarrassment taking over your expression. But he didn't let your hand slip away, on the contrary, he pushed it a few inches lower and made you cling to the elastic of the pants. He gave you a cheeky smile before he started moving to the rhythm of the music. His hand didn't let go of yours as he positioned himself in your lap, grinding his hips against yours with an experience that shouldn't have surprised you.

Bucky fixed his eyes on you as he danced, keeping you in a kind of hypnotic trance from which you could not wake up. Your eyes followed his, your body responding to his movements without a single complaint. He trapped you between the chair and his body, one of his hands clinging firmly to the back of the chair while the other traveled to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warm caress of his fingers. His face came so close to yours that you could feel his breath mingling against your quickened breathing, his nose brushing against yours. For a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, so you closed your eyes, letting the euphoric sensation of desire consume you.

But suddenly, Bucky rose from your lap. You couldn't contain the whimper that escaped your lips, a protest at his devastating absence. Although he wasn't completely gone, you could feel him at your back, his hands caressing your neck, his nose inhaling the scent of your hair. The ghost of his lips traveling from the sweet spot behind your ear to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He wasn't even kissing you and you were already experiencing things you had never felt before in your years of relationship.

With a graceful and sensual move, Bucky is once again on your lap, trapping you against the chair. He wasn't putting his full weight on you, but enough for you to feel it as he moved his hips. Your eyes traveled south, curious about the bulge that the sweat pants still hid. You'd never seen one before — well, outside of biology and health classes— and you'd never felt the urge to do so. But the way Bucky was moving on you made you wonder about things. You heard him let out a chuckle and looked away in embarrassment, knowing you'd been caught.

“You can look,” Bucky whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “That's what I'm here for, doll.” He stroked your arms, his fingers traveling slowly from your shoulders to your wrists. Then he took your hands and placed them back on his bare chest. “You can touch too, I don't mind.”

The desire traveling through your veins made you feel more confident this time, so you didn't need Bucky to guide your hands down his body. They acted at their own accord, fingers slowly tracing the defined muscles of his pecs and abs. You weren't yet comfortable going below his hips, so once you reached the edge of his pants you changed course to his back. Down, up and back down, your nails drew light red marks on his skin as he moved in your lap. You didn't even realize what you were doing, you just knew you liked hearing the sounds that escaped Bucky's lips when you accidentally applied too much pressure.

The lowest your trembling hands dared to go were his thighs. Bucky could see in your eyes the desire to go further —to brush your fingers over his bulge or squeeze his ass—, but shame and fear stopped you. You were trying so hard to keep your composure, to behave like a lady, but you couldn't fool Bucky. He knew what you wanted, even when you weren't ready to admit it. He saw it in the way your eyes darkened with each passing second and in the way your breathing became more and more erratic. The innocent, good girl shell you had when you entered the room was cracking, allowing your dark desires to come out. Bucky probably shouldn't find that so exciting, but he did. He couldn't help it, watching the innocence slowly leave your eyes, knowing that he was the one corrupting you, was a sight to behold.

Your lips curled into a pout of protest as Bucky rose from your lap, already missing the heat of his body pressed against yours. It was only for a moment, but to you it felt like an eternity. And he was counting on it, playing with the anticipation as he made a show of taking off his pants. This time your eyes lingered on his tight boxers for longer, though he could still see a flash of embarrassment as you crossed glances with him. It was driving him crazy, in the best possible way. He wanted to remove that innocence from your expression, to corrupt you past the point of no return. It was his personal goal, the challenge he had quietly accepted the moment he discovered what you were. And he was willing to win it.

Bucky dropped to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers traced your legs. Your chest rose and fell with your quickening breath, your whole body buzzing with anticipation as you felt the gentle caresses moving from your ankles to your knees. To your surprise, his fingers continued their path up your thighs, though they stopped just below the hem of your dress. You resisted the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair as you felt him spread your legs slightly apart —enough for him to fit between them, but not enough to leave you too exposed to his eyes. And then the caresses over your body returned, only this time it was the ghost of Bucky's lips that sent shivers across your skin.

His mouth wasn't actually touching your thighs, but he was so damn close that you could almost feel his lips caressing the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of your leg. A warm tingling spread inside you as he moved further up, getting dangerously close to your trembling center. And at that moment you felt no shame or fear —like you had felt on other occasions with past partners. On the contrary, you wanted more, your legs involuntarily spreading wider to give Bucky more room as the ghost of his lips traveled up your lower tummy and across your abdomen until they reached your breasts. And as your breathy moans became more and more audible, your mind was lost in dark thoughts, wondering how different it would all feel if there was no barrier of clothing separating your bodies or how his wet kisses would feel on the sensitive skin of your thighs.

You didn't have much time to get lost in the fantasy though because in a second Bucky was on his feet again, pressing you against the back of the chair as he pushed your legs up. He settled down on the edge of the chair, resting each of your legs on his thighs. His hands gripped the back of the chair once again, trapping you completely between the cushions and his body —or rather, his crotch. You were practically sitting on his lap as you shared the chair, and you could feel his cock pressing against your center with every thrust of his hips. He was hard and you didn't know how common that was, but you decided to believe it wasn't something that happened often. You liked to imagine that his body was reacting to you and not to the sexual nature of his work. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Bucky's hips moved to the sensual rhythm of the music, thrusting against your center in a way that made you feel like you were losing your virginity at that very moment. It was too much, the fire inside you spreading with the speed of a forest fire. And at the same time, it wasn't enough. Bucky's hip movements, though intense, did little to put out the flames they had started. They were pulling you into a swirl of desire and need, bringing you closer and closer to your limit with no promise of real relief. It was frustrating, in a way, but also incredibly exciting.

Your eyes closed for a moment as you struggled to process the sensations that were taking over your body. You tried to focus on your breathing and the sound of the music, anything to keep yourself grounded. But every time you thought you had managed to gain control of your own body again, Bucky moved his hips and all you could feel was pleasure, all you could think about was him.

A moan escaped your lips. It was involuntary and you didn't even realize what you did until a few seconds later. You were ready to apologize, certain you had crossed some kind of line, but Bucky let out a grunt of approval. One of his hands traveled to the back of your neck, holding your head firmly as he pressed his forehead against yours. His fingers tugged on your hair lightly, but the pain didn't bother you. You were too focused on the shape of his lips to think about anything else. You needed to feel them against yours. You needed to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him. You needed Bucky to take everything from you, to show you everything you'd been missing in these years of loneliness.

“C-can you k-kiss me?” You didn't think before you spoke, you just expressed what your mind was thinking without any kind of filter. Your voice was barely a shy whisper, your lips almost brushing against Bucky's as you spoke.

He should have refused, the number one rule of his job was never to kiss the clients —you never knew what things you might end up catching. But when Bucky saw the desperation in your eyes he couldn't help himself. Your slightly parted lips were highly tempting. You were inviting him, giving him permission to ruin you. You needed it as much as he did, so he gave in, and damned the rules.

Bucky's lips felt soft against yours, though there was nothing soft about the way he kissed you. Just like his dancing, the kiss was intense and unlike anything you had ever experienced before. His lips moved expertly, knowing exactly what to do to turn you completely stupid. You let him guide you, merely reacting to the pleasure that only Bucky seemed capable of giving you.

His tongue caressed your lips and you moaned into his mouth, allowing him immediate access to further deepen the kiss. Your hands clung to him —one digging your nails into his bicep while the other rested on his leg—, desperate to find something to keep you grounded while Bucky showed you sensations you didn't know you were capable of feeling.

You were high on pleasure, trapped under his body, immobilized by his lips, enveloped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. You didn't want to be separated from him anymore. You didn't want to leave that room. You felt as if Bucky's lips were what kept you breathing, as if you needed them to keep on living. You couldn't pull away. You didn't want to pull away. But unfortunately a knock on the door signaled that your time together was over.

“You're more than welcome to come back anytime.” Bucky winked at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you alone in the room.

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts and calm your rapid breathing. Your heartbeat was still pounding in your ears, but you figured that would change when you had a chance to get some fresh air. Your legs almost gave out when you stood up, still weak in the knees after the spectacle you had witnessed. You felt a little silly having to take a moment to steady yourself. Bucky had gotten up and left without any trouble, and there you were, clinging to the back of the chair as you struggled to compose yourself so you could leave without your friends realizing the effect their dumb idea had really had on you. You were pathetic.

Gathering your last bit of strength you pushed past the screaming women until you found your friends. They were back at their table, enjoying the routine of a tall, muscular blond who, from what you had heard, called himself Captain America. He was cute, but you couldn't stay in that place a second longer.

“How was it?” one of your friends asked with a smile.

“I need to get some air.”

“That good, huh?” Said the other with a giggle. You rolled your eyes, grabbing both of them by the arm and pulling them up from their seats.

Amidst protests they agreed to leave with you and call it a night. As they made their way through the crowd they didn't miss the opportunity to flood you with questions, insisting that you give them details of what had happened and how it felt to have Bucky dance just for you. You refused to say anything, partly because you were embarrassed to admit the reality of what had happened, and partly because you still needed time to process the night.

However, as you were about to leave, one of the waiters who had served your table - a young man who had introduced himself as Spider-Man - grabbed your arm. At first you thought maybe you had forgotten something in your seats and he was being kind enough to catch you before you left. But when you turned to look at him you noticed he had nothing in his hands but a rose and a piece of paper.

“He sends you this.” The boy said, handing you the items and disappearing into the crowd.

He didn't have to tell you who they were from for you to know. A smile immediately graced your lips as you held the flower to your nose and inhaled. Then you turned your attention to the piece of paper and as you unfolded it you discovered that it was a note.

‘Happy birthday!

Call me ;)'

It read, and at the end was written a phone number that was undoubtedly Bucky's. Your smile widened, which finally attracted the attention of your friends. One of them took the paper from you before you could hide it and when you saw the expression on her face you knew you weren't going to escape the interrogation. It was going to be a long night.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes smut #(not really but just in case)#stripper!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut

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pandagirl45drawing · 1 year

Text

Stripper Tony and the shy patron Bucky

#bucky barnes #buckytony #tony stark #winteriron #digital art #fanart #digital artist #old art #Stripper!Tony #tw suggestive #suggestive

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navybrat817 · 23 days

Note

Okay but imagine Bucky in only the apron and his dog tags🤭😵‍💫🥵

Yes, please. Let's imagine this, shall we?

But is this semi canon!Bucky finally letting loose after getting comfortable with the partner of his dreams?

Is this our tattoo artist deciding to help Sugar bake?

Is this our stripper putting on a show while helping you cook?

Is this our who served after high school and is making a meal with you in his beautiful farm house?

I realize we haven't met stripper or farmer!Bucky yet, but shh... 😂

Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat answers #bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #stripper!bucky barnes #farmer!bucky barnes #whatever-lmaoo

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metalbuckaroo · 2 years

Text

KINKMAS DAY THREE: Sex Tape

Summary// Bucky wants to film something of his own and promises it will be for no one else’s eyes.

Warnings// smut, recording sex, oral (f receiving), lil bits praise kink, use of nicknames- bunny and angel, Bucky’s dick piercing, multiple orgasms

AU// Stripper!Bucky x Innocent!F!Reader

Note// two days in a row, holy shit it’s a record

KINKMAS MASTERLIST

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

“Are you completely sure about this?” Bucky asked as he turned away from his phone he’d sat up on the nightstand beside the bed. Walking to stand between your legs.

“As long as you promise it’s just for you to see.” You said with a pointed look, hands resting on his thick thighs.

“Oh, bunny,” he chuckled, leaning so his hands were flat against the mattress on either side of your hips. “I’m not sharing any part of you with anyone. Trust me.”

“Then I’m completely sure.” You grinned, Bucky’s face level with yours before his lips slotted over yours, urging you up the bed until your head rested against the plush pillows. Cold and warm hands slipping under his shirt that you wore to shove it up and bare your chest to him. His lips traveling along your jaw and down your throat, slowly trailing down to nuzzle his face against the soft skin between your breasts.

His hands slid from your waist to the outsides of your thighs, raising goosebumps on your skin. The smooth, cold metal of his left and warm, calloused skin of his right setting a fire in your core as he placed feather light kisses to your abdomen and tugged your underwear down your legs. Your fingers lacing in his silky hair when his hot breath fanned your folds.

You breathed a happy sigh when his lips locked around your clit, gripping the soft strands a little harder when his tongue flicked over the sensitive nub. His beard tickling the delicate skin when he nuzzled his face closer.

Bucky didn’t spend time teasing or dragging it out, his lst darkened eyes locked with yours as his skillful tongue twisted through your folds. Grip on your hips bruising as he moaned against your cunt, easing a finger into you to carefully stroke the rough patch just inside your walls.

“Buck- oh, god-“ you shuddered, pleasure washing over you as you released against his mouth. Languid licks working you through it before he turned his head to press a tender kiss to your inner thigh before biting a mark into the skin, the sensation making you yelp.

“Turn over, angel.” His sultry voice was impossible not to listen to, your body responding immediately before large hands held your hips and jerked them up so your knees dug into the mattress.

A nervous twinge in your stomach when you saw his phone strategically place on the table was quickly replaced by an excited twist, Bucky’s bulbous head gliding through your folds. Catching at your entrance before easing in, taking his time to push in a little further each time before pulling back.

“There we go, baby. Know just how to take me.” He praised, hands gripping the flesh of your backside as the slow slide his thick cock against your velvety walls already started to send your mind in a spiral.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to lose himself in the rhythmic snap of his hips. The pace punishing, shaking your body each time he guided your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Your mind was already gone, the shocks that coursed throughout every inch of your body easy to drown yourself in as his metallic left slipped down to toy with your clit. The sloppy circles making you keen into the pillow you’d buried your face in to spare the neighbors and curl your fingers into the sheets.

The second wave of bliss crashing into you before his thrusts slowed, a pitiful whine pulling from your throat as you wiggled your hips against him. His body leaning over yours briefly to pick the device up.

“Would’ya look at that- pretty pussy looks s’good wrapped around me.” Bucky groaned, watching the way you stretched around him through the phones screen, the slow drag of his cock driving you insane.

“Bucky, please-“ you keened, the flutter of your cunt around him making his hips stutter before he pulled your back flush to his sweat slicked chest.

“Now, y’know I won’t make you beg.” He chuckled, your chest heaving as he met the rock of your hips the best he could. Hot kisses littering your neck as your head leaned back against the sturdy metal of his shoulder.

It didn’t take much for the bubbling pleasure in your lower belly to start again, the barbell on the underside of his cock pressed perfectly to the deepest sweet spot as you chased that last high. Your hands reaching back to dig into his thick thighs.

“Smile for the camera, angel.” Bucky cooed, free hand groping at your chest as he watched the fucked out smile that spread across your features.

This one hit different than the last two, the air gone from your lungs in a silent mewl as your body trembled against him. Cunt spasming around him as he circled your clit deliberately, filthy praises of how well you were doing for him and how amazing you felt milking his cock being spilled into your ringing ears before he guided you to press your chest into the mattress again.

Chasing his high, the thick air filled with salacious sounds of skin slapping and Bucky’s huffed out moans and grunts. Unable to do much more than gasp out a series of moans, you focused on the glide of his hands along your spine and hips as he spilled into you with a drawn out moan of your name.

He slipped out of you with a hum of content, letting your sore hips relax against the mattress as the phone clattered against the bedside table. Scratchy stubble and pillow soft lips grazing your shoulder between tender kisses as he massaged your sides.

“You did so perfect for me, my gorgeous bunny.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #stripper!bucky x innocent!reader #stripper!bucky smut #stripper!bucky

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flowersforbucky · 3 months

Text

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper reader x undercover bodyguard bucky)

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

word count: 3.3k

author's note: wow okay this kind of got away from me. this is probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. felt my heartbeat in my pussy while writing this. hope you enjoy!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

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alltheficsiwant · 2 years

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I coincidentally watched the new and last magic mike trailer. Damn, Salma Hayek and Channing Tatum have chemistry and boy I'm intoooo it.

Just imagining Bucky as a magic mike dancer and an older! Reader (Buck could be 27 or 28 and reader is like 31 and 32).

But damn that stripping scene in the trailer just... 🥵🔥🔥

Okay.. Now i have said my piece. Imma sleep now. Peace xxx

#j rants #magic mike #bucky barnes #stripper!bucky

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scoonsalicious · 6 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 19, Unfriended - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, confrontation, uncovering of lies.

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Tony has a new mission for you, and everyone finds out you used to be a stripper.

A/N: CONFRONTATION TIME, BITCHES!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You left the conference room with a better idea of what Tony was hoping you’d be able to accomplish, and you were feeling slightly optimistic for the first time all day: You actually had a chance to help women escape the hell you’d lived in for seven years, and you were going to do your damnedest to do right by them.

You hadn't gotten very far down the hallway toward the elevator when you felt the cold, vice-like grip of a vibranium hand take hold of your wrist and pull you into a storage closet.

"Jesus Christ, Barnes," you yelled, wrenching your arm out of his grasp and rubbing the skin where he'd grabbed you. "What the hell?"

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing." His eyes were dark. He was angry at you. Of all the fucking nerve. He had the gall to be angry at you? "What the hell, Pocket? What was that back there?"

Well, you thought, I guess this is actually happening.

"Really?" you asked, your voice calmer than you could have ever imagined it being. "Can't think of a single reason I'd be upset with you?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. "We were fine this morning. Fuck, we talked about getting place of our own, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah," you said, "that's not going to be happening. Ever." He had the audacity to look hurt.

"What do you mean?" He reached for you, but you pulled away from him, trying to put as much distance between you as possible in the cramped space. "Sweetheart, talk to me. Whatever's wrong, we can figure it out together."

"How was Russia, James?" you asked, ignoring the concern in his voice. "Anything... I dunno, exciting happen over there? Twice, maybe?" You watched with a sense of sick satisfaction as all the color drained from Bucky's face and a look of panic overtook him.

"I-I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"Please," you scoffed. "If there's one thing we can both agree on, it’s that I’m not intellectually stupid. Emotionally? Obviously. But not intellectually. Don't insult my intelligence by acting like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Whatever Carthage told you," Bucky said, trying to draw close to you again, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, "she's lying to you."

"Oh, no worries-- Jade didn't tell me anything, so no need to follow through on your threat to kill her and make sure no one ever finds her body, which, by the way, what the actual fuck?!"

"Doll, you gotta understand," he began, but you cut him off.

“No,” you said, putting a hand up to keep the distance between you. “I’m tired of being understanding when it comes to you, James.” You watched him flinch at your use of his government name. Good. “I’m tired of giving you second chances you don’t deserve. I’m tired of your fucking lies. I am so tired of you.”

You reached into your pocket and took out his phone. “Here,” you said, shoving it into his chest, “you left this when you went to your debrief.”

Bucky clutched the phone, looking between it and you. “You… you went through it?”

“Of course I fucking did!” you seethed. “Imagine my surprise when I picked it up, planning on just pocketing it to give back to you when I next saw you, only to see a notification for a new message from Jade fucking Carthage. The girl whose number I blocked from this very phone. The girl who, you swore to me, you were never going to speak to or be alone with again. Imagine how absolutely devastating that was.”

“You weren’t supposed to read those messages,” Bucky said, his voice low and full of sorrow. “I never intended for you to see them.”

“Well, no fucking shit, Barnes,” you said, throwing your hands in the air. “Kinda defeats the point of having a secret affair if the girlfriend knows about it, doesn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t like that!” Bucky exclaimed, desperate for you to believe him. “I didn’t intend for it to happen. It was an accident! I never meant--"

"Oh, an accident? My bad; I didn't realize you'd 'accidentally' tripped and got your penis stuck in her vagina. Two fucking times." You were hit with a realization. "Was this why you didn't call me when you were supposed to? Why you never returned my messages? Were you lying about your phone dying?"

"Yes, but--"

"For fucks' sake, James!" You were shouting now. "I fucking knew something was going on between you two. I fucking KNEW it, but no, you assured me it was nothing, that I was overreacting. That you loved me. I thought I was losing my fucking mind with insecurity, and meanwhile you've been fucking her behind my back and feeding me bullshit about how much you wanted to be with me."

"Baby, no!" Tears began pooling in Bucky's eyes, but they didn't sway you. "I swear, Russia was the only time anything happened. I promise you."

"See, here's the thing: your promises don't mean shit, James," you spat. "I can't believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth. I'd ask you why, but I wouldn't believe whatever bullshit you'd tell me."

"Because I thought you were with Steve," he blurted out, as if desperately grasping for any chance at making you understand. "I saw the news articles from the gala, and I was so angry! I– I wanted to make you hurt as much as I thought you hurt me…"

His words left you momentarily speechless. "You took the word of fucking trash rag as gospel, thinking I would do that to you? That STEVE would do that to you? And before even thinking about talking it over with me, you decided the smart choice was to go balls deep in the one person who I've been begging you to stay away from for months? That you swore I didn't have to worry about?" God, he seemed so pathetic to you now. “You just made the executive decision that I was a piece of shit? I’ve been to enough therapy sessions to recognize projection when I see it.”

"I'm sorry! I know I fucked up. Please, please just tell me what I have to do to make this right. What can I do to fix this? I'll do anything. You want me to never speak to Jade again? Done."

"That's just it, James," you said, the fight leaving you. "There's nothing that you can do. This is over. We're done. I refuse to do this any longer."

"Sweetheart, please," he cried, "please, you can't mean that. Don't talk like that."

"James..."

"Stop calling me 'James'!" he sobbed. "'m not 'James,' 'm your Bucky. 'm always your Bucky."

You shook your head sadly. "'My Bucky' died the second you decided to sleep with her, and there's no bringing him back. Welcome to the consequences of your actions, James. I hope you and Carthage are happy together. You fucking deserve each other." You started for the door, but Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could grasp the handle.

"Please," he moaned, "this-- this can't be it. We can't end like this. We were supposed to be forever."

You pulled your hand out of his grasp and opened the door. "You should have thought about that before you broke my heart," you whispered. “Again.”

"I don't know how to live without you," he murmured.

"Well, you better figure out how to fucking start," you said as you made your way out the door. "When I get back from this mission, I'm moving out of the Tower. Alone." The idea had just come to you at that moment, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn't stand to live under the same roof as Bucky any longer, let alone across the hall.

"But this is your home," he pleaded. "You don't need to leave it."

"You were my home," you told him. "I don't have one anymore." And you left him standing in the open doorway of the storage closet, alone and crying.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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steves-sub · 1 year

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Prologue

Summary: Steve comes up with an idea

Warning(s): Dark!Team Cap (Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff), MINOR DNI, Drinking, Implied non-con, and kidnapping.

WC: 312 (I promise these will be longer)

Taglist; @marvel-fandom23

Since the events in Germany, Steve Rogers has been hiding out in the cabin with Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, and Wanda Maximoff. On the run from the law, they only had each other to rely on. Since then, nothing has happened with his sexual life. Due to the fact that everyone there was a Dom, he couldn't turn to his teammates for assistance. So while sitting with the rest of the team outside, Steve decided to propose an idea.

"So, I've been thinking recently," he said to the group of people around him. “Anyone else been extremely horny?” He questioned as he took a sip of his beer. In response, Bucky offered a chuckle, "If you are proposing what I think you are, I’m out.” Sam agreed, "No way." Steve realized his mistake and stopped them. "Oh no, not like that.”

“So what are you thinking then, Captain?” Natasha asked as she crossed her legs. “Look, we've been stuck in the cabin for a while. It doesn't seem like we're getting out anytime soon. So," he paused, "how about bringing someone in to help us?" Wanda looked at him with a questioning face, “Like a stripper?” He laughed at her answer with a smirk. “I was thinking of a more permanent solution.”

Suddenly, the only sound they heard was the cackling of the fire they sat around. Steve knew this was a big proposition. Bucky was the first to speak. “If we do it, how do we go about it?” He spoke as he twisted the top off the beer with his metal arm. “We can figure that out together, but I think that we all need to meet the person before we take them,” Steve responded. “Sounds like you already have someone in mind,” Natasha smirked.

Steve let out an exhale, “I got the perfect little sunflower for us.”

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES!! Would love input

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the-queen-of-hell-666 · 17 days

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2024 Kinktober Masterlist

I'm so sorry for not posting like at all this year but it's been a very long year. College classes started up again this fall and I'm swamped with work. This is my list for Kinktober this year. I will do my best to keep up but anywho, I hope you enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Key: Fluff; 🌙 // Angst; 👿 // Smut; 🔥 // Dark; 🕸️

Day 1: Deepthroating/Facesitting (Daryl Dixon (Prison Era) x Fem!Reader)

Day 2: Semi-Public Sex (Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader)

Day 3: Knotting (Alpha!Jim Hopper x Assistant!Omega!Fem!Reader)

Day 4: Phone Sex (John Winchester x Hunter!Fem!Reader)

Day 5: Squirting (Obsessive!Perv!Billy Hargrove x Bimbo!Fem!Reader)

Day 6: Cuckolding (Shy!Jake Jensen x FemmeFatal!Fem!Reader x Franklin Clay)

Day 7: Biting/Marking (Possessive!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader)

Day 8: Morning Sex (CACW!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader)

Day 9: Praise Kink (Insecure!Geralt of Rivia x Healer!Fem!Reader)

Day 10: Mommy Kink (Needy!Johnny Storm (CE) x Mommy!Fem!Reader)

Day 11: Caught (Daryl Dixon (Prison Era) x Fem!Reader)

Day 12: Sex Toys (Lawyer!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Day 13: Virginity Kink (Professor!Logan Howlett x Virgin!Mutant!Fem!Reader)

Day 14: Shotgunning (Needy!Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader)

Day 15: Tentacles (Part-Kraken!Steve Rogers x Princess!Fem!Reader)

Day 16: Spanking (Brat!Johnny Storm (CE) x Dom!CEO!Fem!Reader)

Day 17: Breeding (Wolf-Hybrid!Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader)

Day 18: Tittyfucking (Wade Wilson x Plus-Sized!X-Men!Fem!Reader)

Day 19: Hate Sex (Robin Buckley x Cheerleader!Fem!Reader)

Day 20: Edging (Young!Logan Howlett (X-Men1) x Professor!Mutant!Fem!Reader)

Day 21: Dub-con/Non-con (Grumpy!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Sunshine!Innocent!Fem!Reader)

Day 22: Stripping (CEO!Nick Fowler x Stripper!Fem!Reader)

Day 23: Anal Sex (Dark!Steve Kemp x Innocent!Fem!Reader)

Day 24: Pegging (Brat!Wade Wilson x Mean!Dom!Fem!Reader)

Day 25: Lactation (Dad!Steve Rogers x Mom!Pregnant!Reader)

Day 26: Age Difference (Older!Daryl Dixon (Alexandria Era) x 20s!Sunshine!Fem!Reader)

Day 27: Gagging (Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bimbo!Fem!Reader)

Day 28: DP in One Hole (CEO!Married!Stucky x Assistant!Fem!Reader)

Day 29: Gloryhole (Jim Hopper x Fem!Reader)

Day 30: Panty Raid/Panty Kink (Shy!Perv!Jake Jensen x Slight!Perv!Fem!Reader)

Day 31: Videoing (Camboy!Eddie Munson x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader)

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rookthorne · 6 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲

A venture to a club for a performance — the type that better suited the phrase ‘once in a lifetime’ — left you with far more than you could have ever anticipated for when you step out from the double, glass doors.

The secrets within the lustful atmosphere weighed on your own thoughts, as did the vivid imagery of what happened up on that stage: the drag of heated palms over your clothes and the whispered words of praise that would fuel your sinful dreams for a time.

Only, the source of your maladaptive daydreams waited for you outside.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ꧖ Stripper!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ꧖ 7.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ꧖ Fluff, extreme spicy tension, emphasised size difference (Bucky is huge and beefy as fuck in this), Russian!Protective!Bucky ჻჻჻ TROPES: Grumpy/Sunshine, Meet Cute ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, size

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ꧖ I have been waiting for the opportunity for over a year now to create this AU, and I had the push from @sgt-seabass' experience at a certain event that she so graciously shared with me... 😘 ꧖ A special thank you to a certain someone for their help with the Russian flirting... ꧖ I have to say that this Bucky was one of the hardest ones I have ever attempted — there were times I was so close to throwing in the towel. I am so glad I didn't. ꧖ It was so fucking hard to not add smut into this — I am determined to save that for a... special moment.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ꧖ It's A Man's World by Sevyn Streeter ꧖ greedy by Tate McRae ꧖ Soaked by Shy Smith ꧖ Crazy in Love by Beyoncé

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ꧖ @thevillainswhore — you were a literal saviour, baby, thank you so much for sticking with my stubborn ass through this. ꧖ And to quote her when she saw the tropes: MEET CUTE? YEAH, SOME FUCKING MEET CUTE! 🤭

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ꧖ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟮 — Stripper AU — Masterlist ꧖ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Teasing (January) — Masterlist ꧖ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗢𝟰 — Nightclub AU — Masterlist ꧖ @anyfandomkinkbingo 𝗡𝟯 — Free Space — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The crowded line around you bustled and shifted with excitement for what lay ahead in only — you checked your phone for the time — a few minutes. Double, glass doors artistically darkened would part to the masses, passes would be checked, and then you would be directed to and seated in your booked seats.

“What do you think they’ll be like up close?” your friend asked from next to you, their arm looped around yours to stay close. “What about–”

“Let’s just hope we get to see him,” you reminded your friend. “He’s kept a secret for a reason, no one knows if he’ll be at a show until he is there—part of his mysterious charm, I guess.”

As a birthday present from your accompanying friend, you were given a set of tickets to see a coveted show by the Howling Commandos — a group consisting of a few men and their host, Natalia, travelling through the states of your home country and performing risqué dances on a dimly lit stage to a crowd of howling women (and a few men, too).

That wasn’t what you were there for, however.

Within the ranks of the performers that made up Howling Commandos, was a man built like a God — from what you had seen on their social media, you learned that he was called Sarge. He had jaw length, dark brown hair, and piercing, slate grey eyes.

Not much could be parsed from his lack of information — it wasn’t abnormal to be a private performer, it was part of the allure and to gain profit, you suspected, but there was next to nothing known of the brooding mountain of a man that commanded such a presence on the stage that he was only brought out for the biggest of shows.

It was a little disheartening, if you were honest, that your particular show wouldn’t be classed among the bigger crowds — the likelihood of Sarge even being in the roster of performers was slim.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, glancing around the gathered crowd. “I just– I hope we get to see him. Have you seen the way he dances?”

“Oh, yeah,” they replied. A strange, teasing smirk pulled at the corner of their lips, and it made you nervous for some inexplicable reason. “I’m hopeful too, babe—turn that frown upside down, it’s your birthday!”

You managed a small nod and smile in reply.

Not even a moment later, the doors before you parted, opening in a wide arc to reveal a provocatively dressed woman, a staff member of the ensemble. The bass of the music from within the nightclub pounded in your chest, and your heart skipped a beat as you handed the worker your joint passes — they flashed a wolfish smile and gestured you inside.

“She was hot.”

You snorted at your friend’s blunt commentary, though you nodded in agreement. The woman was dressed in what you could only describe as a modest corset and fishnets, topped off only with platform heels and an updo that would make a nineteen-forties housewife jealous.

The interior of the club was remarkably different to the outside. From the blackened windows, you could still see the dimmed glow of the neon’s that lined the outer signs and gutters of the building, but within the establishment, it was a much softer, moodier atmosphere.

Couches made of plush, burgundy velvet were lining booths and tables alike, while stools and tables made up the middle of the floor with a few stylistic chairs thrown among the mix. A stage, high off of the floor by at least four feet, lined the furthest and widest wall from the entrance.

Curtains covered the back of the wall, a combination of blacks, deep reds, and purples making up the canvas of a backdrop.

The music that played over the speaker sounded familiar, and you strained your ears to decipher the song — a classic for a club hosting a stripping event, with a sultry beat that made your skin prickle.

“Well, well, hello there, vozlyublennyy,” a voice suddenly called from the stage.

Your gaze snapped towards the source, and you found a woman standing right at the edge. Black leather met fire-red hair and lipstick; her mouth was curled in a wicked, sultry smile that turned your insides to jelly. The heels she wore made her as tall as a Goddess, and she bent her knees to squat down to better look at you. “Aren’t you pretty?”

“Oh, god,” you whined, hiding your face in your friend’s shoulder. They laughed at your shame. “C’mon, that’s not funny–”

“It is, sweetheart,” the woman cooed, and she offered you her hand to shake; blood red nails turned her porcelain skin paler, and she had a single, silver ring on her thumb. “Natalia—pleasure to meet you.”

You offered your name and your hand, only, she kissed your knuckles and left behind a stain of red lipstick.

Natalia tilted her head as she looked at your friend. “Interesting… very interesting.” Before you could question her statement, the leather of her pants creaked with the movement of her standing tall. “Why don’t you come take a seat over here for me?”

The chairs she pointed to were placed in the VIP section. Your heart thundered against your ribs with trepidation. “But–”

“Aw, thanks!” your friend cried, far too enthusiastically. The grip they had on your arm was iron tight, and you had no choice but to follow the direction they frog marched you in — straight towards the seats that screamed opulence.

“What are you doing– We– You didn’t pay for these?” you rushed, watching your friend sit beside you in the booth. On the centre table was a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne, a tray of hors d'oeuvres beside it. “The fuck is this?”

“Just don’t think about it, babe,” they replied nonchalantly. A sample of food popped into their mouth, and they made an appreciative noise.

The sudden, mysterious determination of your friend set you on edge and made your stomach coil with anxiety. You could not figure out what they were up to, let alone having acquired such tickets to sit so close to the stage, and you realised with one hell of a start, if you reached a hand out from your set, the tips of your fingers brushed the very edge of the platform.

People began to take their seats with ushers directing them, and you took the opportunity to take in the interior again — a large bar was bordered by glass shelves stocked full of liquor, from whiskey to vodka, all the way to tequila.

While you stared around the space, the lights began to dim even further until you could barely see the stage.

“Hello, hello, all of my minxes,” Natalia said, her honeyed voice blanketing the crowd and kicking up the anticipation in the air by several degrees. Spotlights suddenly illuminated her figure on the stage, and you gasped at the sight — black leather pants accentuated her thighs and hips, and the dip of her corset in the harsh light was anything but modest. The red curls you admired moments ago sat over her shoulders.

The crowd cheered and whooped with her appearance; she took a bow. “Thank you all for the very warm welcome, darlings,” she cooed, the slight rasp of her Russian accent making her tone sensual. “Tonight is, as you know, a very special night.”

Her heels clicked over the stage as she strolled leisurely back and forth, holding the entire focus and attention of the patrons in her manicured hand. “We have ventured from far and wide to come here tonight. So it is of both of our benefits if I allow the boys to start the show, but first,” she said, coming to a halt in the middle of the stage. “Some house rules.”

You listened while Natalia listed off the do’s and don'ts for the evening — most of which you couldn’t believe had to be even mentioned. “Some people are pieces of work,” you muttered to your friend. They snorted a laugh and nodded in agreement.

“And with all that out of the way,” Natalia sang, and she tilted her head to search through the crowd. Her hazel-green eyes landed on you — something behind that playful gaze caused a shiver to run down your spine. “I present, Falcon.”

The show that Falcon put on toed the line in so many instances that the room felt like a sauna — a few women were using their leaflets to fan themselves. You watched with heat adorning your cheeks as he bowed to the crowd, then dashed off stage, opposite to where Natalia appeared once more.

Her sensual smile seemed to invigorate the crowd even more, and they whistled as she slunk to the very front of the stage as the music began an interlude. “I’m sure Falcon would not have minded a louder cheer, darlings,” she purred, arching a perfectly manicured brow.

An uproar of cries and screams made her laugh from her perch on stage. “That was much better, excellent.” Her heels clicked over the platform as she strutted back and forth, back and forth — if she were a cat, you suspected her tail would be twitching with the anticipation of cornering her prey. “Our next performer is a crowd favourite, and he is eagerly awaiting his turn behind the curtain–”

“Hurry up, Nat,” a deep voice said from behind the barrier of cloth.

The cackle of laughter Natalia replied with sent a thrill down your spine. “Easy—be a good boy now, Nomad.”

A blond head of hair that belonged to no other than the infamous Nomad appeared between the split of fabric, and he glared at Natalia with a playful heat that only made her laugh harder.

The appearance of him roused the crowd, and for good measure, he winked at a few patrons. “Come on out then, boy,” Natalia teased. “They seem to want you—we must give them a show.”

Nothing prepared you for the intensity of Nomad’s set. The sensual movements and choreography of his routine was mesmerising, and you often found yourself staring into his face as opposed to his body; those eyes never left the woman he danced over, a depth to them something only a lover would achieve.

By the time Nomad took a bow and strode off stage, your heart was jammed in your throat and your mind was flitting with dreams you only hoped would manifest while you slept. It was only early, though. The tickets stated clearly this show would run for at least another hour, if not longer — you looked to your friend whose attention was wholly fixated on the stage. “What are they–”

“Ah, darlings,” Natalia called, cutting you off, and an unnatural hush fell over the crowd. Some kind of electricity shot through the patrons like a lightning strike, anticipation heavy in the air. “You must think that tonight must be over—it is only early, I assure you, the night is young!”

There were a few hollers in reply.

“You need not fret. We have another surprise for you all,” she soothed. Her boots shone in the spotlight as she stalked to the front of the stage, and she squatted in place. Dark eyes met yours, and your breath hitched at the way she seemed to see through you.

Music swelled and pounded against your ear drums, the deep bass of it taking the rhythm of your heart and twisting it to its own beat. The lights dimmed and turned red, casting Natalia’s silhouette over the crowd.

“Please, welcome our very own soldier,” she purred.

A dark figure came out from behind the curtains and loomed over Natalia, even in her high heeled stilettos. They wore a cap to obscure their face; a jacket bulked their frame and covered a red henley, the first and second button unclasped to show the rounded neck of a black shirt.

No matter what they wore, there was no mistaking who just stepped onto the stage, and you felt what little control you had over your body slip through your fingers like sand.

Beside you, your friend grabbed your arm and shook it, squealing excitedly. “Oh, he’s here!”

You blinked, covering your open mouth with a hand — either to clasp your jaw shut or hide your surprise, you couldn’t decide.

“Well, hello there, Sarge,” Natalia greeted, and she circled him; each click of her heels loud against the floor. “I think we have a few voyeurs excited to see you.”

Sarge raised his head to observe the crowd, eyes sharp and bright under the red light. “Da, you would be right,” he said, face passive and void of any emotion. “I better get started then.”

The fabric hugging his chest wrinkled with a sudden roll of his shoulders, and he moved his neck side to side — a physical show of his strength that made the crowd squeal and shriek.

He did not even react.

That same passive stare observed the crowd before he glanced at Natalia. “Ubiraysya otsyuda, Natalia.”

Manicured nails brushed over her forehead while she saluted in farewell. “Have fun.”

“I can’t believe this,” you whispered in shock. The flood of heat that warmed your neck crawled its way up to your cheeks; suddenly unbearably warm while the lights overhead dimmed.

The vision of him on stage was otherworldly — nothing could compare, not even the videos and pictures uploaded to social media of his performances or press. Even his accent was stronger, deeper in person. He towered on stage with his mere presence, let alone his astounding height.

A few patrons whistled and called for him to start, but he merely threw them a heated stare that forced them to quieten down. The respect he commanded made your stomach flutter with nerves.

Next to you, you felt the seat cushion shift, and your friend leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “Happy birthday, babe.”

You blinked and looked at them with wide eyes. “What–?”

They nodded towards the stage. Confused and unable to repress the nervous shiver of being watched, you looked towards the raised platform, just as steel-grey eyes met yours. Sarge had searched the crowd like a famished wolf, and the hunger in his gaze reflected as such.

All of the breath in your lungs escaped in one fell swoop, the exhale turning into a squeak of shock that was not dignified. “Oh, oh,” you whimpered, moving back in your seat until your back was against the plush cushioning. “You didn’t– Oh no—no, I can’t–”

The frantic pleas turned to breathless whines when Sarge smirked at you; a slight quirk of his full, pink lips that froze the world around you. His handsome features came into full view with the sudden beam of a spotlight, and you took them in — a sharp jawline that would cut glass, paired with a straight nose above perfect lips. There was a light dusting of stubble over his jaw that offset the dark brown locks that fell to his neck.

People in the crowd caught onto who he was staring at, and they began to whoop in encouragement.

A gloved hand raised to halt the noise. “A little bird told me that tonight was someone’s birthday,” Sarge said, still staring straight at you. The slack in your jaw was almost painful. “And for the birthday girl, I have a surprise.”

“What,” you blurted.

Small giggles punctuated your stunned silence, the sudden hysterics of your friend almost made it all the more unbearable. The clarity that came with the sudden reveal hit you like a speeding truck on a highway, the mysterious change of seats; how Natalia picked them out from the crowd.

You turned to stare at them heatedly. “You did this?”

A sludge formed in your stomach when they nodded.

“I can’t, I can’t– Oh, god,” you gasped, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of emotion that coursed through you. “I can’t go up there!”

The doubt only gave rise to a sense of confliction — some small part of you yearned to take that stage by storm and have a dream become true, the other, however, wanted to crawl into a ball from the shame of such exposure.

“Yeah, you can,” your friend said, and they gripped your hand. “You’re going to go up there and have the time of your life—don’t let your fear steal this from you.”

Lights around the room dimmed entirely, casting the stage into darkness. Over the pounding of your heart, you could hear the heavy thump of boots over wood, then a solid shadow loomed at the edge of the stage; sans cap, and hair flowing loose down his neck, the few strands that covered his face brought to life the impulse to tuck them behind his ear.

“If it truly makes you uncomfortable, I will leave you be,” Sarge offered. The gravelly tone of his voice made you gulp compulsively from a sudden dry mouth.

He squatted in place, the toes of his boots right on the edge of the platform — you couldn’t help but notice the tightness of his jeans around his thighs. “Otherwise, darling,” he continued quietly, “Allow me.” A gloved hand appeared in your vision, and he smiled softly at you.

“I– Oh, fucking,” you rambled, unable to take hold of his hand. “I can’t–”

“She will,” your friend interrupted, and Sarge glanced at them — his expression had turned passive once more. “She just needs some encouragement.”

“Oh?” Sarge replied, a curious lilt to his accent. He stared at you. “That I can offer.”

The squeak of his boots sounded when he rose to his feet. His looming height only made your heart beat faster and faster against the confines of your throat — you watched his back and shoulders move as he strode back towards the curtains.

The crowd was in titters of anticipation for the beginning of the show.

And to your utter astonishment, Sarge turned on the spot to face you, and started to shed the jacket he wore all while maintaining eye contact — a spell you could not break, no matter how hard you could have tried, you did not want to.

Your jaw ached with the way it fell open in awe once the outer layer of his clothes were removed, leaving him in just his henley and undershirt; jeans hugged his thighs far more prominently now the baggier layer didn’t hide his frame.

“Go on,” your friend whispered, pushing you sideways on your seat to the edge.

“Ah, nyet,” Sarge barked, pointing at your friend. “Let me try to convince moya malen'kaya kukla.”

The seamless transition to his mother tongue made a small, quiet moan fall from your lips before you could bite back the impulse. Sarge, ever the cunning wolf, seemed to have heard it, regardless of the crowd of impatient patrons.

You watched as his index finger beckoned you, a come-hither motion that set the last of your reserved dignity to cinders.

“Idi syuda, viksen,” Sarge called. “Come here. Kneel at my feet.”

The pit of your stomach fell through the floor, much like your jaw, and as though you were bewitched, you rose from your seat to whoops and cheers; rounds of applause that could not be heard over the thunderous roar of blood in your ears.

Sarge stood on the stage, his eyes fixed on you with such intent it turned your knees to jelly, and as you reached the small set of stairs to the side of the stage platform, he moved towards you and offered a gloved hand to help you up.

“Here, darling,” Sarge said softly. One hand held yours while you navigated the steep steps, the other was placed on your lower back when you reached the solid and suddenly very large platform.

Under the guise of directing you, he leaned in close enough for the heat of his breath to be felt on the shell of your ear. “If it becomes too much for you to take—what I am about to do,” he clarified at your startled squeak. “You must tap my arm thrice, like this.” The soft tap of his finger against your arm was insistent and firm. “Understood, da?”

“Y–Yeah, yes,” you replied breathlessly, nodding once. “I– Okay.”

Sarge dipped his head low and grinned, so only you would see. “Khoroshaya devochka, lyubimyy.”

The music swelled and trembled the floor before you could even reply to his quip, and he looked around the stage. “Hmm, over there, I am thinking,” he said quietly, and then you were moved towards the other end of the stage, his hand still holding yours. “Are you ready, darling?”

You blinked, then hesitated a brief second. Sarge picked up on the swirling anxiety that viciously swarmed your mind and body. “Remember, you need only tap my arm three times and it stops. I will signal to Natashka, then she will take you to a quiet room to soothe you.”

“Well, there’s a back up plan, just in case,” you mumbled.

A small smile danced on Sarge’s lips again, the same one that he held only for you back at your seat. “There will always be precautions,” he said, his voice thick with the accent of his mother tongue. It was endearing and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him for how nonsensical and calming his mere presence was — quite the opposite for what you would expect of a performer. “Besides, I do not want to frighten such a beautiful woman.”

“Oh–”

“Kneel, viksen,” Sarge commanded suddenly. You jumped in fright and fell to your knees with little hesitation — the rushed action made Sarge smirk. “Well done, darling.” Leather caressed your jaw, then your chin, and his hand tilted your head up to look into his face. When your gaze met his, he winked and licked his bottom lip before he silently mouthed, “I am starting now.”

His consideration swelled far more than your heart.

A loud voice called over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s make some noise for Sarge!”

The crowd roared a few decibels below deafening.

You watched in the sudden, dimmed lighting as Sarge turned back around and headed straight towards where he stood when he beckoned you on stage. His head was held high while he looked over the stage, and a spotlight caught his profile, sending it into sharp relief against the backdrop of crimson and purples.

Sarge’s beauty was unmatched by any model or actor. His side profile alone was enough to make a small, unbidden whimper fall from your lips.

The leather gloves that covered his hands were pulled off, exposing the skin beneath — swirls of ink lined the back of his hands, while a few patterns stretched artfully down some of his fingers. As for the rest of the artistry that you assumed decorated his body, it was covered by the red henley and black undershirt, let alone the jeans that hugged his thighs.

His heated gaze fell on you as he turned to stand directly opposite you — his feet shoulder width apart and his head tilted to the side so strands of dark hair fell over his cheek and jaw.

From within the crowd, you could just decipher the calls from your friend, and their encouraging cries fuelled your bravery — a blessing in disguise, for Sarge held out his hand and beckoned you towards him, just as he had done to get you on the stage in the first place.

Oh, fuck, you thought.

Instinctually, or foolishly, you placed your hands past your knees and onto the stage, then lifted off of your knees — everything in your body screamed arousal at such a dominant move. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you mumbled at the ground. “I’m really doing this.”

Yeah, you are, the voice replied in your mind — it sounded familiarly like your friend that watched on.

One hand moved forward, followed by a knee; the other hand mimicked the firsts, then your other knee followed suit. The hard surface dug into your knees and palms, but you paid no mind to the subtle ache, your gaze too homed in upon the man that stood watching you crawl to him.

Sarge’s eyes bled from blue to black in the dimmed light, and he grinned; all teeth that shone white.

At last, you met the halfway point between your starting position, and where he watched on, when he held up a hand to halt your crawl. You sat back on your haunches and stared at him, eyes widening while he strolled forward — all the while grabbing the hem of his henley and undershirt, pulling it up to expose a deep, defined v-line.

The crowd moaned and screamed in unison, but it was a dull roar of noise over your mind’s insistent parade of what it would be like to kiss the skin of his hip; how tense his muscles could get in the throes of passion.

Before you could even shake yourself from that particular vision, you blinked and Sarge stood right in front of you — his very exposed hip within reach, if only you just leaned forward–

“Go on, detka,” Sarge purred, tapping the skin above the belt loop next to his zipper. And the bastard teased, “You want to, I can see it.” The impulse consumed you like a forest fire, and your lips met the heated skin in a chaste kiss. “Good girl.”

There was no discerning the patrons cheers any longer, the continued shouts and cheers of their voices melded into one, constant noise.

His fingers deftly worked the belt clasp, and you realised with an audible gasp that the black leather was branded with an inscription that sent a dull, aching throb to your cunt — Sarge’s Girl was decorated with silver filigree and a bold, full star on either side of the words. The buckle clinked as he pulled it free, then the strap where the text sat was pushed towards your parted lips.

“Open,” Sarge ordered, and you complied without a second thought.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, and he stepped back slowly, leaving his belt between your teeth. The heavy fall of his boots copied your heartbeat, the pounding rhythm sent your head into a spell of dizziness you wanted more of.

Your lips moved over the strap while your tongue tasted the earthy tones of treated leather; something you needed more of.

The leather dangled down your front, the end of it resting in front of your knees — Sarge tilted his chin up, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, as though he was contemplating something.

It all fell away — the sounds, the smells, the tastes when he kneeled down on one knee in front of you, eyes bright with a sense of mischief, and a smirk that rivalled the devil’s. “Let go,” he said, holding around the strap of his belt, right next to your cheek.

You bit down on the leather with a playful growl, and Sarge smirked as he pulled against your grip gently. “Give it back to me, devochka, before I tame the brat in you for all to see.” Shock flooded your system and forced your jaw to be lax around the hard leather. “Ah, there we go, Viksen. Arms out, wrists together for me.”

Your actions fell on autopilot to obey, and you stuck out your arms, wrists together, just as he asked for. He hummed and looped the belt around them, careful of the tightness of the leather against your skin. “Now, down.”

His hands moved you back onto all fours, the gentle grip of his hands while he did so sent a cacophony of butterflies to soar wildly in your stomach. The leather toes of his boots were all you could see when he got to his feet before, the deep, red henley fell to the floor a second later.

“Give it up for our Sarge!” That same announcer voice called over the speakers, and the crowd did not disappoint.

Warmth spread over your waist, and you realised it was both of Sarge’s hands feeling down your sides — one boot disappeared, then thudded as it landed on your other side.

He was standing over you– Oh, fuck, you almost gasped aloud.

A sharp, loud shriek fell from your lips with the sudden change of altitude — in the blink of an eye, Sarge had lifted you with both his arms around your waist. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, and his face brushed against your navel from the sudden proximity.

You could feel one hand splayed over the middle of your back to steady your frame and prevent you from falling backwards, though it did nothing to alleviate the rush of adrenaline through your body at suddenly being held in the air, with your thighs either side of his head, by one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh my god!” You scrambled to grab at his neck before you could master the impulse, and all you felt was the soft, brown locks of his hair in your fingertips. There was a hot breath on your stomach through your shirt, and the broad shoulders that held you so securely in the air shook up and down — Sarge was laughing at your fear, the bastard. “What–!”

Sarge’s other hand that was held to the side in a show of strength, brushed over the seat of your pants before he squeezed. The contact sent a rush of heat through the whole of your body as you realised just how close to your cunt his mouth was in conjunction with his hand on your ass.

The crowd was still whooping when he fell to one knee and twisted in place, so you lay across the stage — his hands wandered from your back to your knees. You could only see the wicked, hungry grin on his mouth when he peered around your calves; he arched a brow and licked his lips, carelessly fuelling the fire between your thighs.

Your wrists rubbed against the leather strap of his belt, and you subconsciously whined — you wanted to touch, to feel his strength under your fingertips.

“Easy, darling,” Sarge purred. “You will have your fill, obeshchayu.”

The buckle of his belt clattered to the floor with surprising speed, though you didn’t have time to linger on the newfound freedom — Sarge’s slow thrusts against the back of your thighs made a dizzy spell hit you with such force you almost passed out right then and there. “Sarge–! Fuck.”

“Not yet,” he rasped back.

You squeaked and looked down at him with widened eyes — the black of his pupils painted over the grey, bleeding profusely over the once calming seas of his irises.

All of your insides squirmed and vanished with the heat of his stare, and before you could even blink yourself back to reality, you were sitting in a chair on the stage with Sarge in front of you. His stature loomed over you and blocked out the patrons that cheered behind him — feet shoulder width apart and hands on your cheeks to tilt your head up.

The gentleness of his hold replaced the fire in your veins with an unexplainable adoration.

“Lyubimyy, are you with me?”

“Yeah– Yes, I am, just–” You stammered, blinking fast. “I got a bit flustered.”

Sarge grinned. “I know—it was sweet. So easy to entrance, hmm?”

“Hey–!”

“I joke, darling,” he teased. “I am almost done with you. I know you are eager to join your friend again.”

The music swelled over the speakers, the beat and bass reverberating deep in your chest — it didn’t feel like you were on the stage of one of the most prolific nightclubs of your city with a stripper performing with you, let alone talking to you in such a tone of hunger.

You had watched all of Sarge’s performances reverently, far more than you would ever admit, and never before did he treat a patron to such intimacy.

His press gave the same impression of stoic and blithe interest. Never one to talk unless questioned — Sarge was a quiet one, but yet, here he was, speaking to you with a reverence of what you’d expect from a lover.

Something tugged and pulled in your stomach with that particular realisation.

“Are you ready?” Sarge asked quietly, leaning in close while still moving his body to keep the crowd entertained. His eyes were clear and narrowed in on your features, darting from your eyes to your parted lips. “I will stop if you are overwhelmed–”

“No, no,” you rushed, and you reached for him on instinct — a reassuring, grounding presence the beacon you didn’t know you needed. “I’m okay, please.”

“As you wish, viksen,” he replied. “Follow my lead.”

The skin of his palms felt rough over your own hands, and he guided them to his chest, covered only by the dark undershirt — you realised it was a tank as opposed to a shirt. He turned on the spot and fell to his knees, boots tucked beneath the seat you were perched on, and his hands guided yours to the neckline of his shirt.

“We’re in the final stretch,” the announcer called over the cheering crowd. “Let’s give it up one last time for Sarge!”

Your fingers were squeezed by Sarge’s palms, the grip firm as he pressed your hands into his chest while manipulating the thin cloth into your fist. He looked at you over his shoulder with a sly smirk. “Have your fill, darling—pull.”

The fabric tore away with ease under the combined efforts of Sarge’s strength and your hands — black cloth revealed a chest covered in artistry, rippling with the movement of guiding you to strip his chest bare.

A small moan fell from your lips and into his ear.

“Settle,” he murmured back with a wide smirk.

You gulped while he turned his head to look out into the crowd, and the smirk he threw you morphed into a grin while he slowly moved his hips back and forth — a show far too intimate, but you could not look away. The low position of his beltless jeans left little to the imagination.

“Now you can return to your friend,” Sarge said lowly, helping you up from your seat while your legs shook. “You took it so well, darling. Come.” His warm hands guided you to the edge of the stage, where the stairs were situated, and he took each step down with you.

Your heart thundered and skipped the longer he stayed beside you, and finally, he helped you to your seat before moving your hand to his lips. A soft kiss brushed against your knuckles, and he smiled softly. “Goodbye, viksen.”

You watched him turn back around to walk back up the stairs, the muscles of his back and shoulders tensing and rippling with each step, and the time passed in a daze from that moment onwards.

Through the hazed lust, you barely acknowledged your friend who welcomed you back to the table with eager chitters and whispered demands after Sarge disappeared from the stage through the side exit.

The feel of his hands on you lingered, even after the soft touches of him guiding you back to the sanctuary of your occupied booth, and you found you didn’t want that sensation to ever leave.

The last of the performers dwindled on stage while patrons shuffled around to gather their belongings. It wasn’t often that the Howling Commandos lingered at a venue, given they were a sought after group of performers, they often had tours that were demanding beyond reason — though it was different this time.

After following them for so long, it was rumoured and then later confirmed on social media, that this show was the last for them for some time — no one knew for sure how long their rest would last, but it was well deserved regardless.

It was how you found yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet in anticipation beside the stage. Nomad, Falcon, and Natalia were mingling amongst the crowd for photo opportunities for the lucky few who purchased the extra bonus of a meet and greet.

You were not unfortunately one of the few, as much as you wish you were — the treat of being brought on stage was already too much for you to cope with and process.

The sound of footsteps of giggles emanated from your left, and you glanced over to find your friend on the approach. “You good?”

“Yep,” they said, popping the ‘p’. “Let’s go get some drinks!”

“But–” You tried to protest, but it was of no use — the grip your friend had on your arm was tighter than a vice as they dragged you out of the door and into the street. The night life of the strip of nightclubs was wildly alive with partying crowds and drunkards stumbling all over the place. “Oh, hell. Do we have to?”

They looked from left to right with a tight grimace pulling their expression taut. “I mean, no– Oh.” A scarily menacing smirk danced on their lips, and just as they opened their mouth to speak, they were cut off by a shout.

“Viksen!”

You whipped around to search for the source, when your mouth fell open in shock. Down the closest alleyway, leaning against the brick wall of the club he just danced in, was Sarge — a freshly lit cigarette dangled from his lips while the rings on some of his fingers glinted from a flickering streetlight opposite where he stood.

The black V-neck shirt and leather jacket bulked his frame even more than the hooded get up he wore for his performance, and he still wore those tight jeans and boots.

Smoke billowed from his mouth and nose while he threw the cigarette to the pavement, where he scuffed the lit end with the toe of his boot. “I never thought I would see you after the show,” he called, and he strode forwards, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “It seems luck is on my side tonight.”

The closer he came, the more your insides melted — while he looked nothing like he did while he performed, he still exuded a lethal confidence that cut your resolve to shreds, and that smile of his didn’t help, not one bit.

Your friend suddenly gripped your arm and rushed, "I just remembered I'm staying with a friend tonight. Can you make it back home safe?"

“I–”

Sarge stepped closer and tilted his head. The passive line of his mouth while he looked at your friend smoothly changed into a softened smile when he met your gaze. “I will take you home, darling—if you would like?”

The pocket of his jacket chimed with the sound of keys. “I did not park far from the club, and I do not tend to enjoy…” He looked back towards the club where his fellow performers lingered behind. “I prefer to selectively spend my time with those I choose.”

“Well–”

Brown strands of hair fell forward as he looked to the floor, his posture turning open with the sudden show of bashfulness, and under his breath he spoke, “Ideal'noy byla by kompaniya krasivoy zhenshchiny, a ne etikh idiotov.”

You swallowed around the slither of fear that clutched your stomach in a vice — being alone with the man you were beginning to form a crush on was not ideal, not without preparation or a wing–

From the corner of your eyes, you saw your friend staring at you pointedly with wide eyes. Go with it, they urged, unspoken and greedily.

A deep breath rose your shoulders shakily. “Yeah, that– That would be nice,” you replied softly. “I, uh– I don’t live too far away.”

Sarge looked up with a blindingly bright smile, and it made your stomach flip and riot in place. “Good—that is good.” He looked at your friend again — you couldn’t help but feel heartened by the plain stare he gave them. “Do you have a way to get to your friend’s home?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

“I will wait with you,” Sarge said, and he set his shoulders. “I cannot leave you without knowing you will get there safely.”

“A real gentleman,” your friend teased while their fingers flew over the screen of their phone. To your horror, they glanced up at you and smirked. “I like him.”

The air rushed from your lungs in a shocked exhale while Sarge moved inexplicably closer at the statement, his arm brushing against yours in a feather light touch. He didn’t move to rebuke their words, nor did he make any noise of acknowledgement; eyes intently scanning the surrounding crowds as he would if he were guarding something precious.

It was a comfortable silence that stretched between the three of you while you waited curb side for your friend’s lift to arrive — a surprise that you would chew them out for endlessly later, but you were nonetheless nervous to be left alone with the mountain of a man beside you.

Passersby paid no mind to you as you waited there, surreptitiously shuffling your feet in place to inch closer towards Sarge. The warmth he emanated drew you in and you couldn’t resist the temptation to just be close — no matter the people around you, or the way your friend kept flickering their knowing gaze to you, a slight smirk still playing on their lips.

“Oh, here we are,” they said suddenly, their head turned towards the road where a car was starting to pull up. “My ride—perfect timing.”

Sarge moved forward and opened the back door wordlessly, inclining his head in farewell but uttering no words in their parting. You hugged them goodbye and tucked your chin into the juncture of their neck and shoulder. In your ear, they whispered, “Be safe, have fun; wear protection.”

“Come on,” you hissed, pulling your lip up in a grimace. “That’s not fair–”

They hugged you tighter, not allowing you to pull back from their embrace. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way he offered to take you home?”

You hesitated, but you truly could not see how it was any more than just friendly interaction. “No…”

“Enjoy his attention, babe,” they said softly, rubbing their hands up and down your back. “Just text me when you get in his car and then again when you get home. I want to know how he kisses you.”

Before you could scold them again, they pulled back and skipped to the open door of their lift. They looked up at Sarge and smiled. “Take care of my girl, yeah?”

“She will be safe,” Sarge replied simply. “I would not let anyone hurt her.”

Heat flooded your stomach and crawled up your neck while Bucky shut the door gently behind them. Through the tinted window, your friend waved goodbye, and you did the same as they were taken away; swept to their own respite and leaving you to fend for yourself against the butterflies that ran riot through your whole body.

The car’s tail lights disappeared around the corner at the other end of the street, and with it, your courage. It was suddenly overwhelmingly nerve wracking to be standing there next to Sarge, the cold breeze of the night biting through your poor excuse of warmth as an outfit. Your arms moved to automatically cradle your front, your hands gripping your biceps, when Sarge spoke, “Are you cold, darling?”

You blinked and met his gaze. “No, no, I’m okay,” you lied.

Sarge tilted his head, the strands of dark hair brushing against his cheek and brow. “You are not a very good liar.”

The words were said in such a deadpan statement it made a laugh erupt from you, and that made a smirk pull at Sarge’s lips — one that he reserved for only you. “Alright, yeah, I’m a bit cold–”

You couldn’t even finish your admission before a jacket — Sarge’s leather jacket — appeared in front of you. “Here, it will keep you warm. I cannot allow you to be in any discomfort, not if I am able to prevent it.”

“But–” You tried to protest, looking at him with widened eyes. What you wouldn’t give to wear that jacket, be enveloped in his warmth and distinct scent that filled your senses to lift you off your feet, but then he would– “But you’ll get cold too!”

Sarge narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Takaya upryamaya zhenshchina.” The gravel of his voice sent a shiver entirely unrelated to the sudden chill down your spine. “YA tebya obozhayu.”

“Hey, I don’t speak Russian,” you whined, pouting at him. “What did you say?”

Sarge only chuckled and shook his head while he placed the jacket gently over your shoulders, prompting you silently to slip your arms into the sleeves. “Never you mind, Malen'kaya Lisa.”

“Stubborn asshole,” you teased half-heartedly, though you burrowed into his jacket with a hum of contentment.

“Me?” Sarge laughed, and he took a single step back after adjusting the collar to better sit on your smaller frame. “How am I stubborn when you are shivering and refuse– Ay, moy bog, you are too adorable.”

The way his eyes brightened as he looked down at you suddenly hit you hard — the force of it leaving you breathless. Maybe your friend was right… “So,” you began nervously, and your hands fidgeted with the cuffs of his jacket.

Sarge smiled softly. “I did not introduce myself.”

“You don’t go by Sarge–”

“Nyet,” he laughed again. “No, darling. That is the name for the stage—only for my performances.”

“Oh.” The warmth from his jacket suddenly grew overwhelming with your embarrassment. “I didn’t–”

“Do not worry, Malen’kaya Lisa.” Sarge grabbed your hand and moved the cuff of his jacket from the back of it, where he placed a soft kiss. “My friends call me Bucky, if you so wish– Actually,” he paused for a second, then, “Please, call me James. Sarge and Bucky are for everyone else—vy zasluzhivayete chego to svoyego sobstvennogo.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” you replied with a nervous chitter wavering in your voice. “But, okay, James—nice to finally meet you.” The smile James gave you when you offered him your name made the butterflies ditch the fluttering riot for absolute pandemonium.

“Let me take you home, darling.” James took a step closer. His arm went around your shoulders. You let out a breath when you were pulled into his side — the comfort of being so close enveloped you, and “First, I would like to accompany you for a stroll. The night is young, viksen.”

You couldn’t help the snort of laughter at his words, and the blinding smile you received in return lit you from the inside out — you would do anything to see it again. “Are you trying to be old fashioned?”

James looked at you with a quirked brow. “Did it not work?”

“Maybe it did.”

“Nu, krasivaya devushka.” He leaned in close, his lips dancing over your temple, where he placed a soft kiss. The hot gust of his breath tickled your ear. “Allow me the pleasure of you on my arm for the evening.”

vozlyublennyy = beloved ubiraysya otsyuda = get out of here moya malen'kaya kukla = my little doll idi syuda, viksen = come here, vixen khoroshaya devochka, lyubimyy = good girl, darling detka = baby obeshchayu = I promise ideal'noy byla by kompaniya krasivoy zhenshchiny, a ne etikh idiotov = company of a beautiful woman would be perfect, rather than those idiots takaya upryamaya zhenshchina = such a stubborn woman ya tebya obozhayu = I adore it Malen'kaya Lisa = Little Fox moy bog = my god vy zasluzhivayete chego to svoyego sobstvennogo = you deserve something of your own nu, krasivaya devushka = well, pretty girl

🤭

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #alternate juneiverse 2024 #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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