sableseb

[sableseb]

Hello all! I am reaching out to all my lovely followers and supporters to bring awareness to this cat that is at my workplace. I am trying to raise some money for vet bills. If you or anyone you know would be able to help, please reach out. She was kicked in the stomach by a resident. She has been sick since.

[sableseb]

whomagazine: Sebastian Stan they don’t love you like I love you

[sableseb]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sableseb]

drag me under

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: After what has to be one of the most exhausting and exasperating meetings he’s ever had with the Bishop and Mother Superior, Father Charlie desperately needs a quick release. It was wrong, he knew and he’d repent for it later. Except, what he thought was going to stay as a secret between him and God ends up involving a third witness – you. 

Themes: smut, explicit language, mentions of infidelity, degrading kink

Fuck. He was close. 

He’d shut himself inside the confessional booth a few minutes ago because he absolutely needed to get his mind off certain things. Those meetings always left him feeling like a damned pressure cooker, and he always needed to let out some steam after. 

All that arguing, and having to keep his cool and maintain composure when all he wanted to do was yell and tell them all that he was right and they were wrong. It had to be the generational gap, but sometimes he felt like he was being tortured with how much his mindset differed from those of his superiors. Why couldn’t they just let him do things his way? 

But he pushed all that aside for a moment. Just a moment, that’s all he needed. Fist wrapped around his throbbing cock, his spit and precum giving him just the right amount of lubricant, his head thrown back against the thick wood as he worked his fist up and down his cock, as fast as he could. 

He tried to keep his gasps and moans as quiet as possible. It was late in the afternoon, there wouldn’t be anyone around during this time, but just in case. A groan left his lips anyway, and he bit his lip immediately after. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… 

He could hear how fast his fist moved, the friction was almost just as good as how he remembered sinking into a warm body felt like. Almost, not quite as exhilarating though. 

Fuck! 

A few more tugs, a couple more unrestrained moans later, and he came with a loud sigh. Spilling all over his hand, gasping for breath as he blinked a couple times, already feeling his thoughts flowing much easier. His all black suit, his collar around his neck didn’t feel as tight and constricting anymore. 

He quickly cleaned himself up with a handkerchief he’d have to put in the trash later, he sighed one more time as he made sure to fix his clothes and was about to walk out of the booth when he heard a timid, soft, almost hesitant voice ask: 

“Are you done, Father?” 

He froze. 

Shit. 

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a young woman on the other side. He tried to look but the screen only allowed him a partial view of your face. Okay, okay, don’t panic. He could still get out of this situation. Maybe you didn’t hear what he was doing. Maybe you’d just gotten in here. Maybe you were too naive to even know what those sounds were. 

He cleared his throat again, “How, uh, how long have you been waiting for?” He tried his hardest to sound apologetic for making you wait. 

A moment of silence. Then you replied, “Long enough.” 

That voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? 

He said your name out loud. A pause then, “Is it you?” He asked. 

A sigh. Then, “Yes, Father.” 

Ah. He let out a quiet breath, relieved. 

He had no reason to worry if it was you. You were what he called a lost little lamb, too innocent for her own good. He knew your family. They were nice people who frequented the church, and lately your parents had been worried about you since they found out that you had a troublesome boyfriend who was nowhere near the god-fearing type your family wanted you to date. 

He also knew that you, unlike your parents, were not seen very often at church. He saw you here and there, sometimes at charity events, or sometimes at the tennis court with your mom. But never in the confessional booth. 

Father Charlie sat up straight, looked ahead at the wooden door and asked, “This is your first confession?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“And what would you like to confess?” He asked, knowing he was going about this all wrong. No signs of the cross, no ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’, but he was impatient and… intrigued. What could a shy, timid girl like you have to confess?

“I… I slept with my boyfriend.” 

He couldn’t help but turn towards the screen. He watched you as you fidgeted and squirmed. “Did you?” He didn’t recognise his own voice. 

“Yes, Father.” You answered. “But that’s not all.” 

“Oh?” 

A trembled sigh left your lips, then you said, “While we were, um, when he was...” You struggled to speak. 

And Father Charlie felt weirdly interested all of a sudden, so he urged, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He cooed gently, using the soothing voice he always used with everyone. “Use your big girl words, come on. When he was, what?” 

“Father, I cannot say it.” Your words sounded heavy with shame. 

So he urged you even further, “Like I said, you’re safe here. Now tell me. When he was, what? On top of you? Fucking you? What happened, did he hurt you?” 

“No,” You said quickly. “No, he was… gentle.” 

Father Charlie raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

You let out a shaky breath and confessed, “I wanted him to…” You trailed off, “I know it’s wrong to want these kinds of things, but I didn’t want him to be gentle. I wanted him to be rough. To make it hurt.” 

Another shaky breath left your lips, and this time Father Charlie felt like he was the tormented one. He frowned as he looked down and noticed that he was hard again. Shit. 

He cleared his throat again. “I see.” 

But you were quick to add, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? To want things like that? Isn’t it, Father?” 

There was a strangely innocent desperation in your voice even as you referred to sinful things. The kind of innocence he wanted to take into his hands and crumble it into pieces but also preserve it at the same time. 

Fuck, he was hard. And it was painful because you were right there. 

“Depends,” He answered, “What other things do you find yourself wanting?” A small, quiet gasp left your mouth. Father Charlie caught himself smirking at the sound of it. “And don’t lie. I can’t help you if you lie.” He noticed movement on the other side of the screen. Maybe your hand touching your neck out of nervousness. 

“I… I like being told what to do. I like authority. I like…,” You gasped, as if not believing you were actually saying all this out loud, “I like it, I mean I like the idea of men being mean to me, in bed. I want them to take what they want from me, with consent of course. But I don’t want them to be gentle about it.” 

Oh fuck. 

“That’s, uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. His cock was making his trousers tighter. His hands were shaking with the need to grab and feel a warm body. Preferably that of a shy young woman who thought she should be ashamed of her desires. “Yes, that’s not right.” He did his best to sound stern and disappointed. 

A soft sound came from the other side. Sounding a lot like a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Father.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I should go.” 

It all happened too quickly. The sound of the door opening, the sound of you trying to rush and get out. Before he knew it, he was out of the booth as well and stopping you from leaving. Your wrist in his hand, his chest heaving, tears down your face, a shocked look in your eyes. 

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, looking down at you and noticing the way you didn’t even fight him. Aww, a lost little lamb indeed. 

“No.” You whispered, going along with the movement as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall, beside the booth. 

“You’re disobedient,” He noted, “I should punish you for that.” 

“Yes,” You mumbled, like you were ready to be punished for your sins. 

“Yes, what?” He chided. 

“Yes, Father.” 

And oh, how he would’ve loved to have you on your knees in front of him. To have his cock in your mouth. To make real tears stream down your face, ruining your makeup. But he didn't have too much time. 

He stepped closer, trapping you between the wall and his hard body. He noted the way your eyes remained fixated on his white collar, those teary, innocent eyes. You didn’t even know the treasure you were. 

“Look at me,” He ordered. 

You did. Unable to look away once you did. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, you know that, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded at him. “And I need to punish you, because I need to make sure you’re good from now on, don’t I?” You nodded at his words again. “Good,” He whispered, then grabbed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. 

He fucking that little gasp of surprise that left your mouth as he kissed you, hot and messy. His hands reached down and bunched your dress up before he slipped his hand in between your legs.

He chuckled into the kiss when he felt your flimsy underwear. “See now, good girls don’t wear things like this. You understand?” He whispered, running his knuckles along your wet folds and smearing your arousal around through the thin fabric. “I’m gonna have to take it off, okay?” 

You nodded again. 

And he did, he slid your underwear down until it fell to your ankles. He watched as you stepped out of them and he immediately slid his knee in between your legs, followed by his hand again. “This is all part of your punishment,” He whispered into your ear, and watched how you shivered upon feeling his warm breath. He slipped his two fingers into you with ease and smirked against your skin as he felt your arousal coating his fingers, which he curled inside of you, hitting all the spots which made you gasp and moan.

You whimpered and closed your eyes, sighing and moaning when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your throat. He chuckled, sliding his fingers in and out of you, “See what a little slut you are? Cheating on your boyfriend, and letting me touch you however I please,” He scoffed, “Is this what you came to do? Was this your intention?” 

You bucked your hips against his hand impatiently. “Please,” You murmured. 

He pulled his fingers out, and messed with his belt, undoing it and the zipper on his trousers until he pulled his cock out. “Please what?” He asked, rubbing his wet fingers along his hard cock, “Huh? What do you want?” 

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

“Oh?” He taunted, “You want this cock? Huh?” He leaned in and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a lowered voice that sent shivers down your back, “Does this little slut need a cock in her?” 

“Yes,” You murmured, unable to take it anymore. 

“Yes, what?” He growled. 

“Yes, Father.” You quickly corrected yourself. 

He smirked, smug. Then he lifted you up until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your back against the wall, and the two of you partially hidden by the booth. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned out loud. 

“Shh,” He reminded you, “Quiet.” 

“Please,” You whined, eyes shut. “Please, Father…” 

“Shut up,” He hissed as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “Shut your needy little mouth up.” 

You moaned as he pushed himself into you. Stretching you out as he went. His nails digging painfully into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours sliding into his hair as he filled you up nicely. 

“So fucking wet for me…” He whispered against your cheek as he rocked in and out of you. “I bet you’re not this wet for your little boyfriend, huh? Does he feel this good? This big?” He chuckled. “Does he know you let random men fuck you?” 

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering when he began moving in and out of you. His cock reached places that had you whining out loud. 

“Shh,” He hissed again, “Shut up, you little slut. Shut the fuck up.” He groaned as he fucked you. He kept an eye on your surroundings, just in case someone wandered in. 

But you kept moaning like crazy so he did the only thing his lust-filled brain could think of, he brought out his soiled handkerchief from earlier and shoved it in your mouth, and slapped his hand over your mouth. “Yeah, that’ll shut your filthy mouth up, huh? Is this what you wanted? Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like the needy little whore you are, does he?” 

Your moans sounded muffled now, and he fucked you relentlessly, earning more and more muffled whines and moans and whimpers out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he fucked you harder, reaching deeper. 

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust. “Filthy girl.” He sped up into you again, making you cry out. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? You couldn’t help but spread your legs for me, huh? Even for a man of God? You couldn’t help it.” He taunted. “What else would you do for me? Would you come here everyday and let me have you? Hmm? Would you let me fuck your needy little pussy like your boyfriend can’t?” 

He knew you couldn’t answer him, so he chuckled and continued as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Fuck, he had missed this. He’d missed making a beautiful girl lose control while he was inside her. He knew you couldn’t think right, he was so fucking deep inside you that all you could do was whine and cry, and let him take what he wanted from you. Which is exactly what he did. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you harder and faster against the wall. 

His hand left your mouth, making sure his handkerchief remained nice and snug in there, and reached down until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, he squeezed just enough to make your eyes widen. “Yes,” He goaded you, “You like that, don’t you? Your messed up little head likes this,” He taunted. “It’s filthy in there, isn’t it? You think about these things at night? When you touch yourself before going to bed? Is this what you’ll be thinking about from now on?” 

Your body shuddered, trembling in pleasure. He looked down and noticed the slight cleavage of your sweet little dress. Fuck, he wished he had time to really peel it off your body and have you crawl around naked just so he could look at you. He was sure he could spend a lot of time just looking. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He chuckled, his body moving expertly against yours, “No, how could he? He’s just a boy. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a dirty girl like you.” He leaned in, whispering against your wet cheek, “This is what you needed. I’m what you need.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess already, and he could tell by the muffled by wanton moans that he could still hear that you were so, so close. 

“I bet he doesn’t even come inside you, does he?” He scoffed, “I think he’d be too scared to do that.” He pulled away and looked into your eyes. “But you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Remember, it’s all part of your punishment. You wanna be a good girl and take all of it, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Go on then, you little slut. Come for me. Come all over this cock like the needy, desperate whore you are.” He let out a strained moan, “I said,” He spoke, menacingly, “Come for me!” 

Your body tensed up, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair, before you let go and came undone around his cock. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching his neck and a loud muffled moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. 

Father Charlie groaned as he came shortly after, spilling inside of you. And fuck, even he could feel how much he filled you up. 

He pulled the now wet cloth out of your mouth as you both felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs. He replaced the handkerchief with his fingers, gliding two of them across your tongue, in and out of your lips as he said, “You’ll come back, won’t you?” He whispered against the corner of your mouth as you caught your breath while sucking on his fingers. “Now that you got a taste of what it’s like, you’ll be back as often as you can just to let me fuck you again. Won’t you, little lamb?” 

—

a/n: call me sister megan bc i’m frothing–

[sableseb]

Sacred

Father Charlie Mayhew x f!reader

word count: around 1k I think??

warnings: priest kink, rough blowjob, cum play, takes place in a church

a/n: Hello, all! This is my first story in a long while. I decided to go with the new it boy, Nicholas Chavez🤭 This was just a quick little write and I hope I still got it after being mia. Please let me know what you think!

The rain outside falls in heavy drops, the melodic sound echoing throughout the silent cathedral. This is the only place she can come in her desperate time of need.

It’s not because she felt secure behind the tall, looming walls. Or felt peace while looking at the ornate crosses. It’s because of him. She’s desperate to be near him, to feel his warmth against her skin…to feel his lips against her own. Father Mayhew became her obsession.

There is something off about his priestliness though. Those deep set brown eyes seem too far away. The furrow in his brow is ever prominent even when speaking God’s word. She is positive that he looks her way each time she sits in the front pew.

Old wood creaks beneath meticulous foot falls. She straightens up, ears perked and eyes alert. “What brings you here at this time of night, y/n?”

He has a deep timbre in his voice. The question he asks comes out nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care that the girl before him shook from the cool night air. Or that she even came in at all.

He’s dressed down tonight, only wearing his black dress pants and matching button down shirt. She notices his collar is nowhere to be seen.

“I felt lonely…this was the first place I thought of,” she whispered as a blush crept up her neck.

The priest cracked a grin as he takes in the poor girl sitting in his church. He’s noticed her on multiple occasions when he speaks the sermons. He can sense when she watches him. It makes him feel powerful that someone can give their utmost attention and admiration to him.

Mayhew knows, he’s always known that she has been ripe for the picking. Always knew she’d be the perfect follower. His perfect, obedient lamb.

“Ah,” he said while taking a seat beside her. “There is always comfort in the church, my dear.”

She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence came from. She would never have dreamed of seeking Father Mayhew out intentionally. Let alone muttering the words, “It’s not the church, Father. It’s you.”

Silence. She looks up to find him staring at her with the same deep set eyes she fantasizes about every night. She wants those eyes looking up at her as he pushes his tongue inside her walls. Stretching and licking her until she would arch her back and beg him to slow down because it’s all just too much.

“It’s always been me, hasn’t it,” he smirks.

She shyly nods her head.

“Hm. So, you find yourself coming here for me then? Each week?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Yes. Father.” The words slip into his ears like the softest hymn flowing from a piano. She’s gentle, quiet, and most importantly, needy. He can tell by the way she clenches her thighs and how redness stains her pretty neck.

She can’t catch her breath as he leans into her. His arm comes to rest behind her as he lowers his mouth to her ear. His scent is overwhelming. Soft notes of amber basked in vanilla. He reaches his other hand towards her neck. Tingles rush throughout her body as he carefully traces the skin of her collarbones.

“Would you say you would do anything for me?”

She didn’t hesitate. There was no need. She’s been certain of this since the first time she heard him preach. “Anything.”

That’s all he needs. “I want you to worship me tonight, y/n. Can you do that for me?”

His thumb traces her bottom lip as he awaits her answer.

“I can,” she chokes out.

His body leaves hers and she instantly craves his closeness again. Before the sinking feeling could set in, he carefully grasps her arm, leading her to kneel in front of his sitting form.

Father Mayhew takes off his belt then unbuttons his pants. He can’t help but smile at the girl below him. She is in absolute awe. And he’s not even out of his boxers yet.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Touch me.”

Her mouth is dry at the site of the priests cock pressed against his gray underwear. His girth is mouth watering. She tentatively places her hand on his clothed erection.

He sucks air between his teeth as she applies pressure. She reminds him of a kitten. Kneading his leaking cock, practically purring at the site of him.

“You’re doing so good, angel.”

She’s eager to please as she gently lays her cheek on his thick thigh in order to watch her hand more closely. She notices a dark spot start to form near the crown of dick. She knows that she’s doing good because Father Mayhew begins to hump her hand while cursing under his breath.

He can’t wait any longer. He needs to feel her mouth on him. He quickly pushes her hand away and pulls his underwear down far enough for his cock to be released. He tangles his long fingers in her hair while guiding his length towards her plump lips.

“You ever sucked dick before, sweetie?”

She pales, embarrassed to tell him the truth.

“C’mon now. It’s not nice to keep secrets from your Father,” he rasps while gentle tapping the leaking head of his cock on her pouting lips.

“I haven’t.”

Mayhew doesn’t know what he’s done in this wretched life to deserve someone as sweet as her, but God is he thankful for it.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore perfect…treat it like a sucker, baby. Lick and suck. That’s your only job.”

He guides her head down, watching intently as her tongue licks around his tip. He could pathetically cum just from her tongue alone. But, he needed more.

He lowers her head further down his length, moving her head to aid in her bobbing motion. He feels spit start to slide down his shaft and onto his tightening balls.

“Fuck, angel. So fucking good for me.”

Her suction becomes tighter. His hips buck from the pressure and he decides to chase his high. He grabs both sides of her face before pulling her all the way down to his base.

She gags. Over and over again she gags while he thrusts into her mouth. He’s using her face like a toy. There’s a careless abandon with his movements. Her chokes and cries make him grow harder.

She’s trying to fight back, to push herself away from the onslaught. He doesn’t care. Not when his high is so close. Over and over again he slams himself into her tiny mouth as he holds her in place.

He feels his balls tighten as his abdomen seizes. Her whimpers and his moans mix into the candle light surrounding them. Just before he can cum down her throat, he pulls out, painting her face with hot, white ropes instead.

He takes in what he’s created. An innocent girl with big bright eyes completely wrecked. Her tears are still streaming down her face as she tries to take in breathes. Her hair is wild and she’s shaking from the adrenaline coursing through hers.

Leaning towards her, he takes his thumb and collects some of the semen resting on her reddened cheek. He gently draws the sigh of the cross between her eyes.

“You’re mine now…for as long as I please.”

[sableseb]

KINKTOBER DAY 2: Finger Fucking

Summary// jealousy is new to Bucky, but he always knows how to make up for it

Warnings// fingering, jealous Bucky, smut, unprotected sex, use of nicknames- dollface, mentions of ripping clothes, cursing

AU// Roommate!Bucky x F!Reader

Note// not extremely proud of how this turned out, and the layout from day 1 is way too much work so I’m tapping out on it already 😂

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been worried out of my mind! You’ve never bitch buttoned me before!” Bucky snapped, following you to the kitchen from his seat on the couch.

“I told you I had a date, Buck.” You laughed, sitting you keys in the mug that was designated for them at some point.

“I know, I can smell the cheap cologne. And, you know our deal. Did you break our deal?”

“Why’re you so worried about it? What’s going on with you?” You looked up at him, amused by his behavior as he swallowed hard.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Bucky shrugged. “I just wanna know if you fucked him.” He said, shaking his head. “We had a deal. If you fucked him, that deal would be off. And, I can smell his shitty cologne all over you.”

“You’ve been on dates too, James.” You pointed, getting an eye roll in response. “Keep doing that and they’ll get stuck.”

“I haven’t slept with any of my dates. I don’t want to. I have everything I need right here, in this apartment, between those pretty thighs. I don’t need to go find something else.”

“I didn’t sleep with him, okay?”

Relief washed over Bucky, the only reaction he seemed to muster being to smash his lips to yours. Hands finding your waist to pull you to the cold tile floor with him. “Buck-”

“Just tell me no.” He breathed out, shoving the skirt of your dress up as he slotted between your thighs and pulled your underwear to the side.

“Keep going.”

A content sigh slipped out when two fingers ran along your slit, Bucky’s hot mouth leaving wet kisses along your throat as he eased them in. Curling and twisting them against your velveyy walls as your fingers weaved through his hair. Biting back mewls and whines as he fucked his fingers into you, pressing his thumb to your clit.

“Buck- oh, fuck, Bucky.” You cried out as he applied just the right amount of pressure to the sensitive nub, bionic arm reaching to pull at the front of your dress until your chest was bare to him. His mouth latching to one of your pebbled buds and tongue flicking over it. “Gonna- holy shit-”

Your eyes screwed shut, hands fisting into the front of his shirt as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s teeth grazing your jaw as he removed his fingers and yanked at the fabric of your underwear, the lacy material ripping with ease.

Gripping the front of his shirt, you pulled until the buttons popped off. Mouth falling open when he slammed into you, Bucky taking the opportunity to slot his mouth over yours. Tongues pressing together in the hungry kiss.

The feverish pace his hips kept made it hard to do anything but pant and moan his name as his pleasured sounds flooded your ears. Body overwhelmed by the full sensation as he took you apart again, thick cock hitting every sweet spot in the most delicious way.

“S’fucking good- love how you feel around me, doll face.” Bucky grunted, tingles spreading down his neck when you tugged the back of his hair.

The familiar feeling in your lower belly formed again, the tile floor doing nothing to help cool your heated skin as the bubbling pleasure started to overflow. Fraying every nerve and raising goosebumps to your skin as you tightened your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Rhythm of his thrusts going sloppy as his lips smothered your again.

“Shit-“ Bucky hissed against your mouth, hips stuttering when he spilled into you with a drawn out moan. Riding through both of your afterglows with short, gentle thrusts.

You shivered from the empty feeling left behind as he slipped from between your thighs, adjusting your dress and placing a brisk kiss to your lips.

“We good?” He asked quietly, tucking himself back into his pants.

“We’re perfect.” You grinned as you sat up. Bucky letting out a heavy sigh as he leaned back against the cabinets.

“Are we toxic?”

“I don’t think so.” You laughed, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to them as he thought over whatever was going through his mind.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. We aren’t together, it’s not my place.” He murmured, a playful grin cracking across your face.

“I dunno, how you reacted makes me wanna do it again.” You teased, shrugging your shoulders as he gave a daring look.

“Behave yourself.”

————

Taglist: @auriel187 @marvel-3407 @winters1917 @k-jones16-blog @wickedravyn @ah-blossom @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @buckybraneslover111 @bonkybarnes106 @wakandabiitch2 @vllowe @kmuir1 @alyhull @stardust-galaxies @michellefoster12 @xleggo-my-elevenx @fionanovasleftnut

[sableseb]

KINKTOBER DAY 1: MUTUAL MASTURBATION

🕷 Summary// Bucky doesn’t miss sex, not when he had the chance to spend these mornings with you

🕸 Warnings// mutual masturbation, lil bitta fluff, a smidgen of angst, feels, cursing, sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics, use of nickname- baby, darling

🕷 AU// SugarDaddy!Bucky x F!Reader

🕸 Note// Kinktober has begun and I’m beyond excited, idk how I feel ab the layout for the summary and warnings, though- may change it. A reminder than any gifs or pictures I use in the moodboards aren’t mine and full credit goes to the actual creators

🕷 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST 🕷

‼️ 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI ‼️

Saturday mornings were always your favorite time of the week.

Waking up maybe a little too late in the afternoon in Bucky’s bed, usually greeted by a warm smile and cup of coffee the moment you sat up.

Only this time you woke up first.

Bucky still sound asleep behind you, early afternoon sun streaming through the blinds as you turned to face him. Sharp features relaxed and breathing shallow.

He stirred when you brushed your fingertips to his cheek, a content sigh passing his parted lips.

���Morning,” he hummed, gruff morning voice filling your ears like music.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you poked a finger into his stomach. “‘M bored.”

“How long have you been awake?” Bucky asked, eyes still closed as he reached an arm out towards to.

“Only around five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” He chuckled, pulling you into his chest. “Can’t be that bored.”

“Well, not just bored.” You hinted, tilting your head back to look at him as he peaked an eye open at you. A wide grin spreading across his face and suddenly fully awake as he urged you onto your back, his broad frame settling between your thighs.

“Now?” He beamed, metallic left arm whirring in your ear as he propped himself up on it.

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head. “Not yet.” You smiled, lacing your fingers in the back of his hair to pull his lips to yours.

“That’s fine, baby.” He murmured against your lips, warm hand splayed on your hip.

Bucky didn’t miss having sex- how could he when he had the chance to spend these mornings with you?

Your fingertips featherlight as they trailed down towards the waistband of his briefs, lips engulfing each other and breaths being shared.

He just missed the connection, being completely open and bare to another person. Trusting someone with yourself and insecurities.

But, in these moments, it felt worth it.

Dipping his hand in the front of his briefs to palm his already hard cock as your fingers slipped into your underwear. Circling your clit as you both lost yourselves in the slow kiss, tongues pressing together and teeth nipping lips. Bucky grazing his lips along your jaw and down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking the skin until a mark formed.

Though, he could see a difference in your heavenly sounds. How much needier they were this time as a breathy whine of his name drew his attention back to your face.

“‘M right here, darling.” He cooed, nipping your lips with his. Pulling the front of his briefs down to free his erection.

The seductive tone of his voice made your heart pound just a little faster and a whimper fall from your lips, your hand not doing the same for you as it had before. Every angle, speed and amount of pressure you applied just not doing it.

“Do we need to stop?” Bucky asked, slowly fisting over himself in case you were needing to stop.

“Everything’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head, being met by lustful blues when you peaked your eyes open. The careful graze of his warm fingers along the inside of your thigh making you clench around nothing, wishing you could just open your mouth a beg for him to help you. Instead, biting your tongue in fear of crossing the paper thin line.

Your back arched when his bulbous head barely knocked into your clit, a blush creeping up his neck. “Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Bucky scrambled out before your lips were on his again.

Hungrier than the last kiss, but just as breathtaking as your hand found it’s way down his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Stopping where the neatly trimmed hair started at his base. “Just tell me and I’ll help.”

“Please,”

To you it sounded pitiful. But, to Bucky, it was enough to have his hips rocking forward into your hand the moment your fingers wrapped around his shaft. His own going into your underwear, groaning at the arousal that coated your folds.

“S’fucking wet,” He huffed, easing his middle finger into your clenching walls. “And tight, shit.”

“James,” you moaned, grinding against his palm. Focusing the pump of your hand on the thick head of his cock. Pre-cum helping you glide along the silky skin.

Adding a second finger and curling the two digits against the rough patch just inside your cunt, your head tipped back in a choked out moan. His fingers stretching you more than your own and finding just the right spot instantly.

“I know, darling. I’ve got you.” He purred, choking on a moan when you flicked your wrist. The swirling sensation at his base cresting higher when your free hand slipped down to massage his heavy sac. Gently rolling it in your palm as your skin grew hotter with each passing second.

The softer feel of your hand drove his mind into a fog, gently twisting and tugging as his face buried in the crook of your neck. Trying to focus on bringing you to your high first, stroking your velvety walls until your thighs started quivering. The pitch of your moans and whines going higher until his name was a jumbled chant on the tip of your tongue.

Every nerve frayed as you released around his long, nimble fingers. Stroking him with the same purpose, lost in the pleasure of your high as he rocked his hips in the same rhythm as your hand.

“Ah,” Bucky hissed, hot puffs of breath fanning your collarbone when the roll of his hips went frantic. Fucking into your hand as he worked you through your own aftershocks. “Gonna come-“

You didn’t even register the first warm spurt through your foggy state. His spend coating your stomach and hand as you stroked him through it, peppering kisses along his shoulder as a shudder rolled down his spine.

The warmth that engulfed him was enough to melt away the fact that you were there with him under a contract, that you weren’t truly his.

————

Taglist: @auriel187 @marvel-3407 @winters1917 @k-jones16-blog @wickedravyn @ah-blossom @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @buckybraneslover111 @bonkybarnes106 @wakandabiitch2 @vllowe @kmuir1 @alyhull @stardust-galaxies @michellefoster12 @xleggo-my-elevenx @fionanovasleftnut

[sableseb]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Following Orders

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky is always grumpy, so you've resorted to being aggressively bossy. But he will show you what following orders really looks like.

Warnings: 18+. Smut with a plot.

Words: 4,8OO

A sharp hiss comes from the man before you and you clamp your thighs around his ribs tighter to steady him, the air pockets from the storm that make the plane shake and dip through the sky already making it hard enough to finish your sutures on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Would you sit still?” you snap at him and grab his shoulders to pull the open wound closer to you and make it easier to see what you’re doing. In a plane, with minimum light and a diminutive amount of supplies to help your colleague with – a colleague that never manages to ever crack a smile, especially not towards you – your current situation pretty much sucks.

“Would you just let the serum do its job?” he sneers back, but lets you pull him closer anyway as he drops his head back down, his elbows resting on his pulled up knees.

“I think it has proven to not do its job, don’t you think?” you snarl and wind the needle through his flesh again, finding it harder and harder to be careful if he keeps snapping at you like this. But your reasoning seems to shut him up since all you can hear now are small groans from the back of his throat when you tug at the torn skin.

The healing powers the serum usually served Bucky with, have abandoned him and you have a feeling it’s because he has barely slept in the past two weeks and your current mission is an assignment from hell that has lasted longer than any of you anticipated.

Yesterday, a fish hook back at the harbour had made a gnarly gash into the flesh of Bucky’s shoulder and you’d never heard him roar like that before. However, once he saw you, he quickly composed himself and made sure the two of you got out of there and onto the nearest jet. That’s where you got clear instructions from Steve to make it to one of the safe houses on the other side of the world. Why so far away, you had no idea, but you assumed the team had to split up because the intel Steve and Natasha were after gave them information that could harm the entire team.

This whole ordeal seems far from over.

So now you’re stuck on a jet for ten hours with Bucky sitting down between your legs and you situated on one of the crates in the loading space as the jet navigates through the storm on autopilot. It’s been four hours and you had slapped Bucky over the head when you realised that his wound hadn’t started healing yet at all, activating autopilot as you grabbed Bucky by his jacket and dragged him back. You were surprised that in spite of his whining and grumbling, he didn’t use his superstrength to stop you.

You’re confused that the serum could ever even heal a wound like this since you’re sure the tissue was stretched too far. So to prevent infection and improve the self healing, you offered – well… forced – him to let you stitch him up. One glare of yours and Bucky decided not to fight you on it. Besides, he couldn’t bring up the energy anyway, especially not against you.

Bucky is exhausted and the feeling of your warm thighs against his sides as you stitch him up, combined with the rumbling of the plane, almost has him lulled to sleep. After all, a soldier can sleep in any condition. Until of course, a nightmare makes the bliss dissipate.

Finishing up your handiwork, you gently clean the wound once more, making Bucky clasp onto your calves for support, before having it covered with a large bandage.

“You good?” you ask him as you throw the contaminated materials away.

“What the hell do you think?” he grunts and you flick him in the head.

“You’re welcome, you ungrateful dick.”

Bucky lets out a huff as you come to a stand, walking over to the side of the jet and pulling out one of the bunks. Moving over to one of the stocking cabinets, you find a sweater around his size and throw it in his direction.

“Put this on and for everyone’s sake, get some fucking sleep. You’re unbearable to be around,” you order and walk forward again, slipping back into the pilot seat as you check the coordinates again, hoping the storm didn’t mess with your course.

“How are you so aggressive when you’re trying to help?” he grumbles under his breath, not quite low enough or you not to hear. So you turn your head to give him another look and you see him struggling to walk. Quickly coming back to a stand to jump to his side, he almost pushes you off until his vision starts to spin. Gently helping him straighten up and walk over to the bunk, you look up at him.

“Because you won’t let people help you, but you’re surprisingly good at following orders,” you simply answer and help him down onto the bunk, your eyes softening when you watch him wince. “Seriously Bucky, get some sleep. I’ll keep on lookout and I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Bucky reluctantly agrees and carefully lies down onto the bunk. The softness in your voice almost swept him to sleep without getting situated first, but he puts his trust in you and allows himself to fall asleep soon enough.

…

A gentle stroke over his arm makes his eyes flutter open much more peacefully than he usually wakes up and his eyes meet yours. Your voice is gentle, understanding that he came from the deepest sleep he’s had in a long time.

“We’re here. You want to come inside?” you ask him and he pushes to a sit with a deep grunt, your hands gently helping him up. That’s when Bucky notices a thick layer of multiple blankets slipping down to his hips and the chill coming in from the loading rig that’s descended onto the massive grass field the jet had landed on, the warmth from his sleep chilling his skin.

Bucky slowly assesses his surrounding and nods, “How long have I slept for?”

“The storm derailed us from the course, so you had a few extra hours. I loaded everything into the safehouse and have some food on the stove already. I’d say about eleven hours in total,” you explain as you walk off before putting your hands on your hips and staring him down. “You good to walk, soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head back to reality and nods, pushing off and following you down the rig, towards the cabin at the edge of the full forest surrounding the field.

“You stayed awake for that long?” he asked as he sauntered after you into the cabin.

“Took a short nap myself, just to be sure I could stick the landing without crashing to our deaths.” You shrug and slip your thick jacket off before making your way further into the home, walking up to the stove to check on the simmering food.

“Come here. Need to take a look at the stitches,” you bark your order and turn back to him as he walks over, a deep frown still etched into his face even after the good sleep he had.

“So bossy…” he grumbles and you roll your eyes, forcefully spinning him back around and lifting his sweater up over his shoulder where Bucky’s metal hand catches onto it so you can inspect him.

Removing the bandage, you smile when you see the insane improvement to his skin and open one of the drawers to grab a small knife to cut the stitches with. Gently cutting them and leaving just his flesh to do the rest of the healing, you’re almost sure you can see the skin mending itself.

“I think this might not even leave a scar,” you tell him proudly with a tinge of awe, and he spins around to face you.

“Good. What are we eating?” he asks and peers over the stove.

“Hot air for your rude ass.” You roll your eyes and lift the lid of the pan to stir the soup you had simmering on the stove.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t touch Bucky’s presence with a ten foot pole. The man radiated introversion and pretty much only wanted to talk to Steve. After you saw him snarl and snap at any other colleagues trying, you stayed far away from him, despite your initial intention to make him feel safe and welcome. But Steve saw your professional and withheld response to the whole Bucky situation as the perfect asset to make you both each others’ partner in missions. You wanted to complain – you really did – but you worked exceptionally well together. It turns out, when you don’t talk, you get an awful lot done.

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you greatly appreciate him as a colleague. But if he only likes you when you mind your own business, he would be dead. The amount of times you have saved him from himself is too many to count and you gave him a scolding twice as often. Yet all Bucky ever replies with is a huff, a roll of his eyes and turning his back on you as he saunters off to someone who won’t be on his ass all the time.

“Always so mean,” Bucky grumbles and lifts himself to sit on the kitchen counter, cleaning his hand with a cloth he found laying around.

“What can I say? Your endless optimism and happiness just brings out that side of me,” you hum sarcastically and blink harshly a few times to will away the sleep in your body, demanding for you to have a nap, making you unable to see the hint of a smile at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

Not much later, the two of you finish your soup and you get up to clean the bowls and stuff them away, but Bucky clasps his metal fingers around your arm and stops you.

“Get some sleep. I’ll clean up,” he orders, his voice surprisingly gentle. But you frown at him and shake your head with a shrug, trying to wrench your arm loose from his grip only for it to tighten even more. “Not a request, sweetheart. Sleep, or I’ll knock you out.”

“Resorting to threats now, Barnes?”

“Don’t tempt me. You don’t know where I draw the line.” His warning and narrowed eyes soften on you and it tugs strangely at your chest. “Sleep.”

“So bossy…” Noting the seriousness in his eyes, you know not to fight him on it any longer and you put down the bowls, throwing him one last defeated scowl before making your way over to the couch and curling up on the worn cushions after putting a blanket over it.

The last thing you notice as the weight of sleep presses you into the cushions, is the gentle touch of a duvet being tucked around your snoozing frame.

…

To say it’s disorienting to wake up revitalised in the middle of the night, in a cabin you don’t know, where it’s so dark that you can’t see a hand in front of your face, is an understatement. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your pulse having erratically quickened from the mind-numbing sleep it was in mere seconds ago, and your fingers dig into the cushions below you to ground yourself.

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you hear a loud grunt and something catches onto your legs, pulling you down. In your sleepy state, you barely get to scream before you’re pinned under a super soldier that looks like he went into fighting mode with his eyes closed, your eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

“Bucky. It’s me!” you hiss and he squints down at you, taking a second to realise before slowly letting go and flicking on the nearest light, still straddling your hips.

“What the fuck, man…” Bucky groans and rubs his eyes, his voice rough and raspy from sleep. “What are you doing?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes “I just tried getting up. I couldn’t see shit, so your stomach became the ground.”

Slowly climbing off you and resting his back against the couch, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and heaves a deep sigh.

“Well, that’s my rest gone for the rest of the night…” he grumbles with disappointment and runs a hand through his hair. You come up to a sitting position as well and make a noise in agreement.

“No. You’re going back to sleep.”

Your head snaps to him, “Excuse me?”

“Sleep.”

“What. Or you’ll knock me out?” you scoff as you rub your eyes.

“Don’t believe me?” His eyes are on you now and you tense before slowly turning to face him again.

“You are not going to knock me out!” You think. Right? “You’re not going to punch me, Barnes!”

He lets out a low laugh that skitters down your spine and your brows pull together. “I don’t have to punch you to knock you out. There are plenty of other ways.”

Your sleepy brain has a hard time catching on, before your eyes widen and you let out a noise of disgust. And your heart starts to pound harder at the wild insinuation. Why your heartbeat drops to between your legs, is something you ignore for the time being.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff, if only to distract his senses from the heat radiating off your face, “you can’t fuck a woman to sleep.”

He leans in and you are on the edge of knocking him out, but his breath on your skin halts you. “You have any idea of the perks of being a super soldier?”

His voice, that deep fucking voice and the gravel in it, makes you gulp, your eyes fluttering against all your inner protests. Your fingers curl on top of your bent knees and you quickly scramble away, up to a stand. Bucky laughs up at you and shrugs, standing up himself.

But that’s it. You don’t move.

You stay quiet. Contemplating. Like only now his words sink past your skin and into your system, which heavily responds to the idea of Bucky.

Bucky fucking you. So hard and deep that you can’t help but cry out, but sob for more. You crave the satisfaction of sleep after a good, thorough pounding. And by someone who is strong and firm and has a filthy mouth. Someone you have no other attachment to. Someone you know answers perfectly to you, as proven by the many missions that showed the two of you working in such synchronised manor, it almost scared you at first.

Bucky cocks his head, “Is that what you need?”

You catapult out of your thoughts and quickly look at him again, “What?”

A smirk. “You need me to fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

Fuck. That is a bit direct. And if it doesn’t make you almost drool.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you whisper breathlessly. It sounds like a plea and round eyes look at him like it is.

A plea.

But not for him to stop.

“Why?” He takes a step closer to you, his eyes darting between yours. “What does it do?”

You roll your eyes and his flesh hand raises to cup your face. His long fingers tangle into the side of your hair and his thumb tips your jaw up to tilt your head towards his gaze.

“Use your words. What does it do?” he rasps, taking another step closer until he breathes your air, leaving you with none, it seems.

“It–” you struggle to find the words. What he does to you. He makes your blood turn hot and your skin prickle with cold. He makes excitement flutter in your belly, but it might be anger – indignation at his wild behaviour towards you.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” he croons and you grit your teeth at his incessant teasing. “Or are you waiting for me to take it from you? Make you sing instead?”

Yes.

“Make you cry out for me?” he smirks. “Or maybe just make you cry? Make you beg for it – for me. You’d be such a pretty sight with tears in your eyes.”

Your head buzzes and you don’t know whether he is complimenting you or dragging you through the mud. It feels so similar and it has your heart pounding and slick coating the fabric of your panties. You try to say his name, but no sound comes out.

Bucky understands, however, the moving of your lips, and wants to bite them. Those lips. Suck on them, have them tremble.

After all that disgusting distance between the two of you from the beginning, it would be deeply satisfying for him to tear you apart like that. Have you cry out for more of him. He would take his sweet, sweet time, too. If he can control himself, that is. But he wants to take his time – mess you up real good. Have you despise that distance between you two in the future, like he has always despised that distance.

The silence between the two of you is deafening and it makes you want to squirm. Closer or far away, you don’t know.

Bucky doesn’t feel like Bucky anymore. He feels like the devil taunting you with your deepest desire. But it’s him. He’s your desire. And you can’t tell if it has always been there or if he’s manipulating you into it. He could, you know he could. But you are starting to care less, the more he looks at you. You want him, need him. Your bones are crying out for him and you want to vocalise it.

You want him to drag it out of you, those cries and that horrible, terrible need.

You imagine it. His fingers, two of them, curled inside of you. And a drag. A curl. Another drag. Tearing out your soul, one moan at a time, as he peels that pleasure to the surface.

When the quiet between you becomes unbearable, you dare to nod, give him permission. But the thought of a nod crosses your eyes and Bucky drags your mouth to his before you can give your confirmation. It is hungry, but hesitant. His soft lips and his rough fingers curling against your scalp has you whimper softly, giving him permission with your pleasure. And he unleashes himself, groaning as his other hand drags your head even closer to him.

He nips and sucks and bites at your lips, not giving you any space to venture into the kiss yourself. But you whine softly and he complies by stroking his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls your body up against his. Your knees are weak and your hands clasp desperately at his forearms to make sure you don’t float away, away from him. From his promising kiss for more.

The ache between your legs is near painful and you squirm on your shaky legs, needing relief desperately. But you don’t want his mouth to stop doing that. Stop kissing you, Abusing your mouth with his own. Desperate, claiming, slow, aggressive – selfish almost.

“Fuck me to sleep, Bucky.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

…

“Ah–” you rasp, squeezing your eyes closed as pain, whining pain, pulsates through your core and thighs. Your limbs are trembling and your bare skin is covered in sweat. Your arms are aching from the stretch above your head and the grip Bucky has on your wrists feels like a faint bruise.

But you haven’t come yet.

His deft fingers do nothing more than graze over your clit and you shudder, the touch agonising. He’s been at this for what feels like hours – rubbing, stroking, circling, taunting – and you feel like you are going insane.

His deep voice growls lowly against your ear, “You want to come.”

A small part of you wants to slap him for that obvious statement, but that part of you is so small, so faint, you barely know her anymore. No, that other remaining part of you lets out a wanton whine. Pathetic. Completely desperate for anything. Your mouth opens to plead, but nothing else comes out than ragged breaths, your sweaty chest rising and falling as that sweet relief is withheld from you.

“You see,” Bucky whispers, his muscular body only in boxers now, and another press of his finger to your clit has you writhe and forget that he was talking to you in the first place, “I agree with you that I respond better to orders. But I have found myself to be better at giving them. Orders – And orgasms for that matter.”

You groan.

“But you wouldn’t know that,” he continues, “since you haven’t come yet, have you?”

Heaving a deep breath, you don’t deign to give him an answer.

“I think I want the first time you come for me to be on my tongue– ” he muses and your eyes fly open. “It’d be a shame if you passed out after the first one though. You have to stay awake for me, okay? I’m not done with you yet… Wouldn’t that be cruel – to just be done with you now?”

That drags you out of your stupor and you give him the biggest eyes you can muster, the most pathetic plea you can will into your body, “Please!”

“So polite,” he hums and presses a gentle kiss below your ear. But he decides he wants more and drags his open mouth over the skin of your neck, his tongue lashing over the heated skin before sinking his teeth into it. You sigh softly, as it seems any of his touches are a relief to the endless deprivation of him.

His mouth encircles your breast, the warmth making goosebumps prickle at your skin as your nipples stiffen. Bucky hums against your skin, his tongue circling around the taut bud before giving a playful bite to the soft flesh. His mouth dances further down and his hand slips from your wrists, his palm stroking down your arm and chest to follow his mouth. You know better than to move, your fingers digging into the pillow below your head instead. Focusing on your breathing, you try to get through the ache between your hips, that desperate throbbing for the man descending your body.

Both his palms press against the inside of your thighs and press them apart, the stretch in your muscles making you arch your back. You dare to look down and your jaw drops at the sight of his dark, ravenous eyes on your cunt. His hands holding you open like it’s nothing, like they are pressing to the table his meal is on.

It takes ages, his examination of your pleasure, and your hole pulsates in answer to his stare. Your breathing hurts from heaving the thick air and you can’t take it anymore. One hand reaches down and combs through Bucky’s full hair, through his locks and cupping his face. His eyes dart up to yours and you hold back from frowning at the daze he sprung out of.

“Bucky…” you breathe, a soft question for him to give you what you need. What you want.

He nuzzles into your palm with a grin and locks his again darkened gaze onto yours, before leaning down so agonisingly slowly. But a firework as large as the galaxy springs apart when his warm lips wrap around your clit and you could mistake it for an orgasm, only to find out that when Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth, you know for a fact a deadly orgasm is well on its way to shred you to pieces.

He hums lovingly against you and you let out a raspy moan. Your thighs get pushed to the mattress as Bucky wetly suckles at you, your chest rising quickly now as your orgasm crawls higher and higher in your body. And just when you think you’re there, Bucky retreats and drags his tongue between your folds, lapping up your slick from the source.

A strangled whine slips from your lips and Bucky groans in agreement, “Fuck, I know. But I haven’t tasted you yet. Let me just– ”

Another drag of his tongue has your shivering and your hand curls into a tight fist with his hair between it. He hums in delight at the tug at his scalp and buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing harshly as he struggles to combine it with eating you whole. But the sounds alone, get you closer and closer and– “Bucky!”

“Go,” he hums against you, almost hurried. “Come on my tongue.”

An order indeed.

Body curling, your orgasm barrels into you like an avalanche. Endless weight presses on your nerves and you sob and moan and cry out, twitching against Bucky as his arms slip around your thighs to hold you to his mouth. Drinking your orgasm up and grinding his own hips into the mattress, Bucky devours the feeling of having you come under him. He had been teasing himself, never mind you. He wanted it to last, wanted you more pliant and bendy before he allowed you to come.

He crawls up your body, but you barely notice it, your orgasm still haunting you, racking through your spine and turning your blood to syrup. Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth and licks into it, teasing, smiling, taunting. For you to respond to him, prove him you’re still there.

So you move, languidly dragging your mouth against his as you tangle your hand into his hair again, pulling him closer. He groans into your mouth and a feeling of triumph swells in your chest at the way Bucky’s body melts to your side. Though the deception of his surrender might have been a distraction when you suddenly feel two fingers press into you, instantly curling against a swollen wall inside of you that has you gasp against his lips.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan and Bucky chuckles deeply above you, his fingers retreating before pressing into you again. His thumb teasingly darts over your swollen clit and lightning strikes your every nerve.

“You think too lowly of yourself to think I would be done with you,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving against the flushed skin of your cheek, your eyes having closed in overwhelming pleasure. His fingers move faster and twist into you, opening you up. Then then slow again, teasing – endlessly teasing. Then faster. Slower.

Unpredictable – and your body cannot keep up as it hauls you closer to your high before retreating like it burned itself. But to burn yourself on the devil – on Bucky. What a delight. You sigh deeply and let the bed swallow you whole as you buck up against Bucky’s hand. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you that you’re almost there and you have to let him make you come again.

“More,” you breathe out. “More, more, more…”

He obliges and presses into your spot so well, his thumb dragging two firm circles over your clit at the same time and you burn alive. You arch like a string pulls you to the ceiling as Bucky’s fingers fuck you through a numbing orgasm. From your crown, all the way down to your toes, fire bursts and surges and implodes. Your moans sound attractive to your own ears as you come, your voice breaking and filled with breaths, crying out to the heavens that the devil made you come again.

And the haze clears, the fog lifting as your eyes open to watch a heady Bucky lick appreciatively at his fingers, the gleam on them reflecting the minimum amount of light in the bedroom. Your hand slides from his hair to his chest and you press him to the mattress, his own eyes widening as you crawl over him.

You straddle his waist, hissing as your bare pussy settles over his angry, hard cock. The fabric is rough to your skin, but you can only focus on his face.

Bucky leans up on his forearms and raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t think so– ”

“Oh yes. You are going to let me use you and then,” you smirk, “you can make me pass out. Since you have failed to do so thus far…”

A slow smile spreads over his face, “So bossy…”

You answer with a grin and a slow grind over his weeping cock, making him stutter under you, “Let’s see how well you follow orders now, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[sableseb]

Damn it, I'm craving a bloody Bucky now. Ugh.

Omg please tell me he comes back from a mission and he needs us to calm down and then we clean him up afterwards?

Sort of.

The Red Door

Summary: You take on a mysterious new client.

Warnings: prostitution, oral, blood, dubcon at worst.

Please, let me know what you think. Leave a like, reblog, and some feedback. Love you all.

🩸🩸🩸

The other girls are scared. You won't pretend you're not. 

They stare as you lead the man down the hallway, figures pressed against wood, eyes peering through inch-wide cracks, women with a sudden sense of modesty. You exhale as the heavy boots follow you, methodic, rhythmic, almost inhuman in their unwavering pace. 

You stop at the end of the hall, by the door painted red, pulling forth the scarf tucked in the belt of your silk robe. You tie it around the knob to signal others not to disturb before you twist. You enter and wait for him, the metallic smell tickles your nose and seeps into your stomach. It almost makes you wretch.

He pauses at the threshold, the rosy light casting soft shadows across the space. Another scarf tossed over the lamp to give the effect. You grip the edge of the door and hold back a shiver as you look at him.

You didn't before. Not fully. You were too terrified to see further than the streaks of crimson across black leather, spattered across his chiseled jaw, and dark hair. His blue eyes are the only bright thing about him.

He steps through, another clunk of his thick sole, and marches past you. You blow out another quivery breath and shut the door. The click makes you flinch.

You turn to watch him as he walks the perimeter of the room, stopping at the covered window, examining it before spinning back. He moves as if he's inspecting the place. Curious, most men aren't so concerned with the room, just the bed.

Suddenly, he approaches you again. You press yourself to the door and cower. The stench of blood stains your tongue as wafts in through your nostrils. He reaches past your arm and turns the latch, locking you in.

He retreats without a word, not even looking at you. You stand on your own weight as he angles his head until a loud crack comes from his neck. He stretches his fingers, the leather gloves squeaking, then pops his knuckles.

The more antsy customers do better with wine. You go to the cabinet in the corner and open the small glass door. You grasp the neck of a bottle but his gritty voice gives you pause, as abrupt and unexpected as the rest of him.

"No, shit is like water to me," he waves you off.

You let go of the bottle and shut the door. You face him as he strides along the edge of the bed, unstrapping a glove and peeling it off. He pulls off the other and leaves them to ball on the table against the window. He drags his fingertips along the wood.

"I'm Rouge," you offer, uncertain how else to proceed. Some of the men like to have a name, others don't give a fuck. You don't ask for the same as often they prefer anonymity. This isn't a place for renown.

"You choose that?" He wonders as he turns, examining his hands, one shiny and metal, blood in the creases across his palms. He looks at them as if they are not his own, a wrinkle between his brows, as if he is as perturbed by the sight as you. Your more concerned with the artificial knuckles limned in gold.

"Red door, rouge," you shrug, "suppose the one before me went by the same."

He nods and drops his hands. His throat bobs as his eyes glimmer hotly. He looks at you, jaw ticking.

"I need to... clean up..." his timbre scrapes up his throat and he spreads a hand across his bloody jacket, resting it there before retracting it sharply. He bends his fingers and blows out a breath. His eyes search the floor, then the wall, as if he's lost.

"Sit," you say.

"I'm dirty," he returns flatly.

"I change the bed after. Every time."

He shifts and looks at the bed. His sole squeaks on the floor as he keeps his fist balled and considers the invitation. Surely, he didn't come here without intent. 

He hesitates and takes the two steps across the floor and sits. His shoulders are straight, posture rigid, head raised like a soldier. His knees are wide as he grips one, once more entranced by the blood across his knuckles.

You leave him and gulp as you enter the small bathroom. You take the small basin from beneath and let it fill with warm water as you search for a cloth. You twist the faucet off, balancing the plastic vessel and the cloth as you emerge.

You place the basin on the table by his gloves and wet the cloth. He watches, you sense him and confirm it with a glance in his direction. You turn and near him. You reach to wipe the streak across his forehead and he catches your hand, wincing as if you've slapped him.

You stare into his deep blue eyes, endless like the ocean, mysterious and terrifying.

"I'm just helping," you say.

You wonder but you don't ask. He's not there to talk and neither are you. Besides, you don't want to know what happened. Rather, what he did.

He relaxes, just a little, and you continue to wipe away the blood. It's dry enough that it flakes onto the cotton and you rinse it before turning back, dabbing the line of his nose as he wiggles the tip and scrunches his lips. Ticklish despite his veneer.

He lifts his chin so you can clean his jaw and you see how the blood has dripped past his high collar. None of it seems to be his own.

You take his hand, the real one, and worked diligently on his fingers. He spreads them and turns his palm up as he lets you. He groans, a soft whisper, as you focus on the task.

"You get a lot of men in here need cleaning up?" He asks.

"You really wanna talk about them?" You ask as you turn and dip the cloth in the water, wringing it out before facing him again.

"Nah," he grabs the knot in your silk belt and tugs you close, stilling your other hand before you can touch it to him, "I don't know why I came here."

"Why does anyone come here?" You counter.

"Fair enough," he shrugs and slowly lowers your hand, squeezing it as he slides further over the edge.

"You want me to undress you, honey?" You ask."

"You call everyone that?" He intones.

"What do you want me to call you?"

"Whatever you like, doll," his tone softens, "you're a sweet thing, working in a place like this."

"You came to a place like this," you say as you wiggle your hand free of his. You drape the clothes over the edge of the basin and return to him, sliding down the tab of the zipper just beneath his chin.

"Not tryna insult you," he assures you as he frames your right hip with his hand, the metal cold through the thin silk. His touch slides down to knead your thigh and he hums. You let him pretend he isn't as slimy as the rest of them.

"I know," you push the zipper down and pull apart the leather, revealing the tight black tank beneath.

He stands and you can't help but take a step back. He looms over you, reminding you at once of the imbalance; client and seller, brute and woman. You guide the jacket down his arms and draw it away from him.

He sits once more and begins to unlace his boots. He tugs harshly as you hang the jacket on the back of the chair, looking at you as he pulls his foot free of the leather.

"I wanna see what you're hidin'," he says.

You nod and untie your robe. The lace bra and thong beneath lend a glimmer to his gaze as he removes his second boot. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, his chest rising and falling markedly. He runs his fingers down his cheek as he stares.

"Come here," he demands, all gentleness receding as he tugs up his shirt, peeling it over his head.

His torso is thick, muscular, and covered in scars. Those along his left shoulder that line the edge of the metal are most obvious, like tendrils that reach towards his neck and across his chest. There is blood in those places where it seeped through a seam.

He drops the shirt over the edge of the bed as he watches you approach.

He rises as you shed the robe. You gasp as his metal hand stretches across your throat and he squeezes, just enough to frighten. You peek up from beneath your lashes as his other hand comes up behind your head.

“Are you scared?” He asks.

“Yes,” you answer honestly, “who wouldn’t be?”

He searches you, for something, anything. A crack, a tell. You can see he’s trained to look for weakness, for deceit. In your business, honesty is the best policy… to a point.

His touch slips down your throat and past your collar bone. He traces a line between your cleavage and flutters along your stomach. He pulls away and unbuttons his fly. You go back to the table and open the slender draw, pulling out a condom from within. You return to him as he hooks his thumbs in the top of his dark briefs.

You hold out the square package and he tuts, “I want you to put it on, doll.”

It’s not an unusual request. You tear open the corner as he pushes down his pants and briefs in one swoop. He stands straight, his need bobbing before him. You can rarely tell with a man what they hide below the waist but with him, he’s as thick there as anywhere else.

You place the rubber against his tip and circle your fingers around him, unrolling the condom down his length. He trembles and grips your side. His other hand crawls up your arm and cradles the back of your head. With a nudge, he urges you down.

You get to your knees and look up at him, his fingers brush around to your chin. His thumb lingers on your lip as he grasps his hip with his other hand. You wrap your grip around him and stroke him. He lets out a long hum.

You press your lips to the slight bump at the end of the condom and slowly take him in. The act is routine, almost numb. You welcome him to the back of your throat, your hand reaching up blinding to brace his hip. He covers it with his own as he pets your crown with his metal fingertips.

“Slow down, act like you mean it,” he pushes his hips out until you gag.

You breathe through your nose and ease your throat, inching him down past your reflex. You go until you can’t take anymore and pull back until only his tip remains, poking just between your lips. You repeat the motion as he balls your hair in his hand, purring as you coax him with your mouth.

His voice drones around the room, the tension slaking from his tone. You push your tongue against him as he coos, “that’s it, doll.”

The wet noise of your mouth slicks up and down him, you smell the sweat and blood, taste it despite the layer of rubber between you. You let your hand glide up his hard stomach. His muscles clench in response as he squeezes your shoulder.

“I’m ready, doll,” he snakes his hand under your chin to stop you, “you’re gonna make go too fast.”

You slide your mouth off of him, a string of spit dangling before you wipe it away with the back of your hand. You swallow as he offers his hand, hauling you up roughly so you stumble against him.

“How do you want it, baby?” You ask, breathless.

He smirks, the first chip in his hard veneer. Beneath it all, beneath the metal and blood, he is a man. He grabs your arm and spins you so you're dizzy. He shoves you so you bend over the bed and he kicks apart your feet. He slaps your ass with his metal hand so you cry out. The sting ripples down your thigh.

He tugs the thong aside and drags his tip along your folds as he bends his legs. You curl your fingers into the mattress as he edges inside. Your lips form an O as he stretches you. He feels even bigger than he looks. Your walls fit snugly around him. He sighs as he reaches his limit and your legs buckle.

“Thing is, doll, as sweet as you are, I can’t help but break things,” he thrusts, bringing you to your tip toes as you cry out again. The pain is as fiery as the pleasure, “even nice things.”

Your eyes roll into your skull as he dips his hips again, a hand on your waist as his other kneads your ass. He rears back and jars you meanly. Your moan becomes a whine and you hit the top of the bed. Your bones thrum with the force of it.

He falls into a steady tempo, skin slapping loudly, you whimper and squeal, tortured by his intrusion. His grip is tight enough to make you grit your teeth. The long he goes, the harder, the faster his thrusts.

The bed hits the wall with each tilt of his pelvis and your voice forms a deafening and endless blare. You can barely take it. Your walls throb as your bones feel as if they will snap. He latches onto your shoulders, arching your back as he rams into you, over and over.

His growls and grunts swirl into a cacophony with your shameless song. Your feet slip out from under you and he falls onto you, crushing you against the mattress. He doesn’t stop, bucking into you furiously as he scoops his hand under your chin and lifts your head. He nuzzles along your neck and bites into the tender flesh that curves into your shoulder.

You sputter as your walls vibrate around him, his own motion grows errati and he raises his head to snarl at the ceiling. He jerks his hips, over and over, punctuating his climax, until he’s shaking and weak. He stops and hangs his head to exhale into your scalp.

“I paid for the hour, doll,” he wiggles inside you, “I’m gonna make you earn this.”

[sableseb]

Midnight Present

Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

NSFW

Prompt: Bucky wakes you up with some unprompted attention, and won’t let you go back to sleep until you’ve paid your dues.

Warnings: Overstimulation galore, fingering & oral female receiving, begging, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, somnophilia, brief choking, pet names

My first published smut. Never thought I’d post any because it’s just not my style and honestly I’ve preferred to just write it for myself, but idk I think this is kind of good and while I’m in between chapters for I’m Glad I Met You I should probably still post to be relevant 🙃 I really just wrote this for myself so it’s not plot heavy or detailed or anything but aye it’ll do

Keep reading

[sableseb]

Tied Up

Pairing: Bucky/Female Reader

18+ Only.

This fic was inspired by fakesngay's amazing Bucky fan art and strongly encouraged by @delaber

Word count: 4k

Summary: Bucky wants to be tied up, teased, and denied.

Need to know: Sub!Bucky, soft dom!Reader, hands tied, tease and denial, edging, oral (male rec), masturbation, slow teasing handjob, titfuck, p in v, ball worship, cock worship, use of the word daddy even though Bucky is the sub, very light mommy kink, fluffy ending

Please do not post this anywhere else. Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

Bucky should have been embarrassed. His cheeks should have been ablaze. He should have been stammering excuses and attempting to cover his stiff cock and the mess he had made all over himself. And he would have if he had heard you come in. But he heard nothing beyond the whimpers and moans playing on his phone as he built himself up to another orgasm. 

"Whatcha watchin' Buck?" 

"Oh shit!" Bucky, once a highly trained assassin, and current crime-fighting partner to Captain America, threw his phone across the room and yanked his blanket over his lap. "Noth–nothing!" 

You weren’t supposed to be home until next week! Not that he was complaining, the past two weeks without you had been miserable, but your timing could have been better. 

You raised an amused eyebrow at him and bent over to pick up his phone. The erotic noises started again as soon as you unlocked it.

Bucky internally groaned as he felt his cheeks heat up. He was so caught off guard, and his brain was still so full of lust that he couldn't think straight. He needed to get up and take the phone away from you before you saw too much, but he couldn't move fast enough. 

He wasn't embarrassed about the porn, but he was embarrassed about that particular video. A video in which a man was tied to a bed while a woman pleasured him over and over, never letting him reach orgasm. No matter how much the man begged and pleaded or how much the woman seemed to enjoy what she was doing, she always stopped short of the final touch that would send him soaring. Bucky had never expressed these desires to you; to be fair, he never knew he had them until today when he stumbled on this video and so many others like it. 

He had a routine with you, he always took the lead in the bedroom, and you liked that; he did too. Loved it, in fact. But this…he could be into this too. 

But what if you weren't? What if it turned you off? Weirded you out?

You locked his phone and threw it on the dresser before stepping out of your boots and walking toward him. 

"And here I was thinking that you missed me." 

"Of course I did! I'm sor–" 

Your finger pressed against his lips, effectively shushing him. Bucky's mind raced, trying to think of how he was possibly going to fix this. Maybe he could say he hadn't been watching that video; he had accidentally clicked on it. 

His panicked thoughts dissipated when you leaned forward and kissed him. It was too gentle for how long he had been apart from you, but it still made his head swim. 

"I missed you," he whispered, chasing your lips. "So much." 

"I know," you kissed his neck and slowly moved your lips down to his chest. "But it seems you've been a bad boy. Haven't you?" 

Holy fuck. Bucky's breath hitched as you threw his blanket on the floor and eyed his heavy cock with heat in your eyes. Were you actually into this? The smirk on your face told him that you were. 

"I asked you a question." You dragged one finger down his muscled thigh. 

"Ye–yes," Bucky stammered, still nervous despite how excitedly his body reacted to you. 

You leaned forward again, whispering in his ear, "you want this, daddy? Want me to take care of you this time?" 

You calling him that never failed to turn him on, apparently not even when he wasn't the one in charge. "God, yes, yes , angel, please." Bucky groaned as you sucked his earlobe. 

  Not even ten minutes later, you had his wrists tied to the bed and his thighs shaking as you teased him with your tongue. You were working your way up from his feet; each toe had already experienced the delight of your warm mouth and swirling tongue. The pleasure shot up his legs straight to his cock. It was big and hard, curved up against his belly, red and angry at the lack of attention it was receiving. But Bucky breathed through it; you were at his thighs now, almost there. Your teeth gently sunk into his inner thigh, and he groaned as his cock flexed, searching for stimulation. Bucky clenched his jaw as you moved to the other thigh, and your breath tickled his heavy balls. Your mouth repeated the same ministrations, yet the bite still made him shudder. 

This was it; finally, you were gonna put your mouth where he needed it most. He was focused on trying to regulate his breathing and gain control over himself, so he didn't immediately start thrusting into your mouth. But disappointment and frustration drew a low groan from him when instead, your tongue slid up the seam where his hip meets his pelvis. 

"Such a goddamn tease," he huffed as you did it again. "Please?" 

You ignored him, moving to his other hip to repeat the actions. Your warm tongue slithered so painfully close to his cock that he gasped and lifted his hips. You did it again and again, humming at the taste of him. When your lips locked tightly around a piece of skin on his hip as you sucked a bruise, he cried out. 

"Please! Please," he drew out the word in a needy moan, "please fucking touch me." 

Your eyes flicked up to his for the first time since you had settled between his legs. "No. I'm gonna go shower." 

"Wha–what?" Bucky stared at you in disbelief as you climbed off the bed and started shedding your clothes. 

"I just got back from a two-week mission. I'll be back." You winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Surely you were joking, right? 

Bucky groaned when he heard the water turn on. He could break out of his restraints and join you, but you would have told him if you wanted that. 

His eyes squeezed shut in frustration when he heard your music start. That wasn't good. You only played music when you planned on taking your time. How long would you make him wait like this? 

He looked down his body at his dick. The tip was red and weeping, pointing up at him accusingly. But, he had never felt so turned on in his life. He could only imagine how good his orgasm would feel once you granted it to him if you granted it to him. His hips flexed up at the thought of being denied, of you using him only for your pleasure. 

"Fuck me," Bucky muttered to himself, trying to keep the images of what he knew you were doing in there without him out of his head. Soap-covered breasts and wet thighs. He wasn’t doing a good job. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to try this new kink after missing you and your body for the past two weeks. He could have already been inside you, had you screaming his name…his thoughts were interrupted when you finally exited the bathroom. You were wearing your robe, and Bucky hoped nothing else underneath it. 

"Better?" He asked, trying not to sound too impatient. 

"Much," you grinned and straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him. You did it properly this time, with all the passion you both had been missing out on. 

Bucky hummed in pleasure, a drunk look on his face when you pulled back. 

"How we doing, daddy?" 

Bucky's eyes fluttered closed, "Need you so bad." 

"What do you need, daddy?" 

Bucky licked his lips as he watched you sit up. But you didn't give him a chance to answer before you were hovering over his throbbing erection. God, he hoped you didn't have anything on under that robe. 

"You need this?" You gently lowered yourself until you were sitting on his cock. 

"Fuck me!" Bucky's hips surged up. Your bare pussy gently rocked against his length. "Need–shit–need inside of you." 

"Oh baby, I don't think you can handle that," you pouted at him, rocking your hips a little faster. "You’ll come.” 

“No, no, I won’t, please, angel?” Bucky’s voice had never sounded so strained. And he was making promises he couldn’t keep. 

“You're close already, aren’t you?” 

Bucky ignored you, rocking his hips up in time with yours. His dick was nuzzled in your warm wetness, and his tip caught on your entrance with each thrust. Yeah, he was fucking close. 

“Aren’t you?” You repeated, undoing your robe and shrugging it off your shoulders. 

“No,” Bucky gritted out. 

“Liar,” you smirked and lifted your hips, leaving him thrusting into the air. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Bucky took a few deep breaths, but you didn’t give him too much time to recover.

You helped move him into a sitting position with his back against the headboard his wrists were tied to. You straddled him again but kept your warm pussy out of reach, instead choosing to wrap your hand around his aching length as you kissed him. 

The sound that came out of Bucky’s mouth as you stroked him from base to tip, making sure to press your thumb into the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, was embarrassing. But he could not care less at the moment. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, your soft legs straddling his hips, and your intoxicating lips hardly left his. 

“That feel good, baby?” Your husky voice made his cock throb in your hand. 

“Yeah, gonna come,” Bucky answered. 

“Yeah?” You taunted in a breathy voice.

“Yeah,” Bucky grunted against your lips. 

You moaned along with him as if he was inside you and gave him two more firm strokes, but when his eyes fluttered closed, you stilled your hand at the base of his cock until his breathing settled. Then you started again. And again. 

“Let me touch you,” Bucky groaned as you sped up your hand. He wanted to touch and squeeze every inch of you. The restraints dug into his arms he flexed against them. 

“No.” You sat back and wrapped both hands around his cock. 

The up and down twisting motions of both your hands on him were too much. He couldn’t even form the words to warn you that he was about to come. But you knew and stilled, except for your thumb, which rubbed achingly slow circles against the sensitive spot on the underside of his sensitive tip. Making sure he stayed on the razor-sharp edge without falling over. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky mumbled; the veins in his neck popped as he tried to will his orgasm to continue. 

“You close, Buck?” You murmured against his lips. 

He could only respond with a high-pitched desperate noise as he tried to thrust against the pad of your thumb. 

“I bet you are; I can feel your legs shaking.” You let him go and sat back again so you could see him. The pout on your face made a dribble of precum leak from his tip. “Poor baby, this looks like it hurts. Maybe my mouth will make it feel better.” 

Bucky whimpered as your warm tongue lapped at his heavy balls and trailed gently up his cock. You made sure your tongue touched every inch of his cock. The gentle caress of it was both too much and not nearly enough. You looked so concentrated, so intent on giving him the most pleasure you could; Bucky could only describe it as worship. But he needed more. He needed you to wrap your lips around him and take him into your throat like he knew you could. 

Finally, as if you could read his thoughts, you kissed his leaking tip, and your tongue slid seductively over it. Fuck, this was more than a kiss; you were making out with his sensitive head, moaning and using your tongue like a goddamn weapon. 

“Holy shit, angel, that feels so good,” Bucky moaned, the back of his head hitting the headboard. He tensed, waiting for the moment your mouth slid further down his shaft, but it never came. You seemed content to tongue him without ever wrapping your lips around him like he needed. 

He lifted his hips, trying to force himself past your swollen lips, but you moved away, focusing your tongue on the spot under his head that made his toes curl. 

“Good god, please just suck it, angel, fuck it hurts!” 

You smiled at him, and Bucky knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted anytime soon. You straddled his thick thigh and began grinding on it while you continued to run your tongue slowly over his cock. 

He wished you would at least match the pace of your tongue to that of your frantic hips. Then a new strategy hit him. 

“Angel, let me taste you; I’ll make you come, please.” 

You let out a short, breathy laugh. “Oh, come on, Buck, you think I’ve forgotten about all the times you’ve come just from eating me out? No way.” 

Bucky groaned; he was beyond frustrated. His cock was shiny with your saliva, yet he hadn’t even been in your mouth, and your warm wet pussy was so close yet so far. He could tell you were about to come, and he would give his right arm to be inside you when you did. 

You teased his cock again, nearly slipping it past your lips but stopping short. Fuck being inside you; he would settle for your throat right now. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky moaned and pulled on his restraints. “I’m so fucking horny, fuck, suck it, angel,” his voice was throaty and deep as he begged.

“What’s the matter, daddy? Thinking about fucking my face right now? Want me to be your good girl and take it all? Open my throat up real nice for you?” 

Your voice shuddered as you came hard on his thigh. He flexed it up for you, drawing your orgasm out as much as he could and hoping you’d return the favor. 

With a tired but satisfied sigh, you slid off his thigh and landed between his legs again. Bucky nearly yelled when your mouth wrapped around his balls. You sucked on them like you typically sucked his cock. Cheeks hollowed, moaning, and messy. You tongued at the tight seam down the middle of his balls, and Bucky’s thighs started to shake again. 

“Please?” He whimpered. 

You ignored him, sucking him like it was your life’s work. 

“Please,” he said a little louder, “please suck my cock, I’m begging, fuck your mouth feels amazing, suck my cock, angel!” 

You slowly pulled your mouth off of his blue balls and placed a soft kiss on his tip. “Okay, but you’re not gonna like it.” 

  Bucky lost track of time as you gave him the blowjob he had asked for, no teasing, no slowing down, at least not until he was about to come down your throat. Then you stopped everything and listened to him beg for mercy before you repeated the process over and over again. Eventually, you got bored of blowing him and started torturing him in new ways. You edged him with your ass, grinding on him while you fingered yourself, your hands, and even your feet when you got tired. Every part of you that he worshiped, worshiped him right back. 

Now his twitching dick was buried between your breasts. And just like the video, no matter how much he begged, you got him to the edge and stopped. He was very close to crying. His legs were shaking, his body covered in sweat and precum. The sounds coming out of his mouth were hysterical; at one point, his gasping, whining moans made it sound like he was laughing. But nothing was remotely funny about how bad he needed to come. 

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the brimming tears. You were so fucking into this, and it turned him on so much he was buzzing out of his skin. The angry tip of his cock peeked out between your breasts, and you tilted your head down to swipe your tongue across it. 

“Jesus, fuck, please, please, please,” he said like a prayer. But it went unanswered as his balls tightened and your warmth disappeared. A frustrated tear ran down his cheek. 

“Angel, please, please, I can’t take anymore.” His breaths came in gasps, and his voice shook. 

Your hand was on his face in seconds. You made him focus on you as you shushed him and brushed his tears away. 

Once he calmed down, you kissed the tip of his nose and then both eyes. “You good, baby? Color?” 

Bucky nodded. “Green, angel. It’s so fucking good; I’m going goddamn crazy.” 

You smiled wide at that. “I’m glad, baby, but as much fun as I’m having,” you leaned in closer like you were going to tell him a secret. “I really wanna come on your cock. I’ve never seen it so hard, and I need it inside me right fucking now.” 

Bucky groaned, “yes fucking do it, please.” 

“You’re gonna be my good boy, right?” 

“I’ll–try.” 

You smirked and straddled his lap again, lining up his cock and slowly sinking down on it. “If you come without my permission, I’ll ruin it.” 

That got Bucky’s attention, even as his brain started to turn to mush at the feeling of your pussy gripping him. “Wait!” 

But it was too late, your ass settled flush against his thighs, and you both groaned at the feeling of finally being united. You didn’t give yourself, or Bucky, time to adjust. Your hands landed on his heaving chest as you worked yourself frantically up and down his cock. 

“Oh god! You gotta slow down!” Bucky’s hands clenched as he fought his restraints. The sound of his vibranium arm whirring with the effort to stay put made your pussy flutter around him. 

“Can’t,” you breathed out, “feels too fucking good. I should keep you this hard all the time.” 

Bucky whimpered; he fucking wished. He just had to hold off until you came, and then you’d let him have his too. He tried to focus on something other than how fucking good your tight pussy felt sliding up and down his dick. Or how beautiful you looked using him for your own pleasure. Or the fucking sounds coming out of your damned mouth. His hips were thrusting faster than they had the right to be. 

“Oh god, right there, daddy,” you gasped as his swollen cock head rubbed against your g-spot. “Fuck my little pussy.” 

These were things you usually moaned in his ear when he had his way with you—when he filled you up over and over until you couldn’t take anymore. And now he couldn’t do anything but take what you gave him. He felt the pressure in his cock grow, and his balls tightened painfully.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky’s body tensed; he swore he could feel his cum moving up to the base of his cock. He couldn’t stop it; he needed it too damn bad. 

“You’re not,” you said matter-of-factly, reaching behind you to pull his balls down, effectively stopping his orgasm. “You don’t have permission.” 

Bucky couldn’t form words anymore; he was beyond rational thought as he writhed underneath you. 

“I’m gonna come for you, daddy, gonna come all over your fat cock.” 

Jesus, you were cruel. 

More tears streamed down his face as your orgasm hit you and your walls clenched rhythmically around him, trying their best to make him come too. He couldn’t breathe. His words came out between gasps of air. “Please! Let me come! Oh god, oh god!” 

But you didn’t answer him; you kept your iron grip on his balls until your orgasm ended. Then you slowly sat up until his cock slipped from you, and he let out a pained whimper. 

“Don’t worry, baby, mommy’s gonna take care of you. You did so well.” 

Bucky didn’t know why but that made a choked sob exit his mouth. Despite everything, he swore he had never felt this good. You had spent hours showering him with attention, worshiping every part of his body, and now? Now you were gonna take care of him.

You gave him a soft smile before turning around and assuming his favorite position. He loved your ass more than he loved himself sometimes. He sucked in a deep breath as you once again slid his cock inside your tight heat. 

“Knees up so you can fuck me properly.” You tapped on his thigh, and he immediately planted his feet on the bed. 

You started moving, and he met your thrusts, slowly at first, he was already so close to the edge, and each bounce of your ass made him want to dive straight over. 

“Faster, Buck,” you groaned. 

He hesitated, his balls already tight in anticipation. “I can come?” He almost didn’t want to ask. 

“If you fuck me harder. Give it to me!” 

Bucky took that as a yes, and his head fell back as he pounded into you as hard as possible in this position. Your sounds of pleasure made his cock twitch inside you, and his balls got impossibly tighter. He swore they were gonna snap off if they tightened anymore. 

“Please don’t stop; god, I’m so close,” Bucky huffed, moving like a machine with how hard and fast he was fucking you. 

“Such a good boy, fucking mommy so well, baby.”

Your words broke him and healed him at the same time. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck, fuck , I’m coming!” A spike of fear flitted through him at the thought that you’d pull away at the last second once again, but it quickly disappeared when the first shock of pleasure pulsed through him from head to toe. He had stopped moving, moaning in ecstasy, but you kept riding him through it, taking him for everything he had. 

“Oh god, I can’t stop cumming,” he gasped, “feels so fucking good,” Bucky whined, finally breaking his bonds to hold you. His flesh arm wrapped around your chest, holding you close and squeezing your breast. The other wrapped around your hips and helped you move.

“Thank you,” he murmured over and over again with his face buried in your neck. 

“I’m so full, daddy,” you groaned and kept grinding your hips until you came again. 

Bucky gasped as the pleasure quickly turned to pain. He had never been so overstimulated. But keeping true to your word, you eased off him quickly. You turned around in his arms and planted kisses all over his face, careful to avoid touching him anywhere else. 

“How about a warm bath, Buck?” 

Bucky nodded, trying to talk but giving up when only mumbled nonsense came out. It made you laugh, though, which made him smile. 

“Was that better than your video?” You asked as you laid him back onto his pillow.

Bucky managed a weak thumbs up as his head lolled to the side. 

“Good.” You kissed his temple and left the bed. 

Bucky wanted to reach out for you, but by the time he made his arm move, you were too far away. “Come back,” Bucky mumbled. 

“I’m right here. Gonna clean you up. Bath later.” 

Bucky hummed in pleasure as you gently cleaned his body with a warm towel. “Thank you,” he whispered as he rolled to the side so you could slide the towel he had used to protect your sheets out from under him. 

It felt like you were gone forever as he fought his slipping eyelids. He didn’t want to fall asleep without you there. But just as he was about to lose the battle, you slid in bed behind him and laid your warm cheek against his back. 

“Hi.” 

Bucky smiled as he felt your breath against his skin. “Welcome home. I missed you.” 

You responded by squeezing him tightly. “Sleep; I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Bucky fell asleep with a soft smile on his face, safe in the knowledge that nothing between you had changed and feeling more loved and cared for than he ever thought possible.  

no pressure tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shamelessfangirl-3 @thenhewaswrongaboutme @buckmepapi @summerofsnowflakes @delaber @captainsimagines @healanette @raindrcpsangel @rookthorne @bucky-barnes-is-a-cupcake @bbyboybucket @thestrangestinthisstrangeland

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[sableseb]

More

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, dirty talking, choking, breeding kink? just smut

AN: There really isn’t any plot just smut..

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[sableseb]

meddle about

Mob!Bucky x Babysitter!Reader (one-shot)

Run-through: He keeps having to remind himself that he shouldn’t be having such thoughts about you. There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t; you work for him, you take care of his kids, you’re much younger than him, etc… But sometimes, the heart wants what it wants. And now even big bad mob bosses can deny their desires for too long. 

Themes: mob!bucky, babysitter!reader, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut

You weren’t facing the entrance to the kitchen, yet you felt him enter the room. 

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[sableseb]

       𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 

summary ─ it was something you shouldn’t have been doing, but well. 

pairing ─ exhusband!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, dirty talk, penetrative sex, loud sex, unprotected sex bc my man loves creampie-ing, this one is filthy ehehehe

The bedpost shouldn’t have been hitting against the wall that hard for the past hour, but it was. That non-stop thump-thump-thump sound was so loud, that it was so rhythmic that you barely heard your neighbors banging angrily in response.

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[sableseb]

  on his knees

synopsis: even the king of the underworld has his weaknesses. bucky’s just happens to be a mortal woman he can’t get enough of.

pairing: bucky barnes (hades/devil) x f!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. breaking & entering, ig technically monsterfucking, devil/mortal dynamics a la hades/persephone, dirty talk, teasing, oral (receiving), bucky breaks the wall, pet-names, bucky on his knees for the reader/begging, size kink bc bucky is 6’6 here in my mind, fingering, unprotected sex, power imbalance, possessiveness, this bucky also wears rings and chains and had civil war era hair, idk what else but lmk if i missed anything!!

notes: i wrote this for me, myself, and i <3

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[sableseb]

Sweetest Nectar

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Birthdays aren't a big deal to you, but Bucky gives you a reason to celebrate. Word Count: Almost 1.9k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, swearing, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Florist!Bucky will always be a comfort character to me and what better way to celebrate a birthday? I wish I could've done more for you lovelies as a thank you for your support. Thanks to @sweeterthanthis for the idea of Bucky feeding you cake while he...well, you'll see. 😉 Beta read by the beautiful @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog , but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Each year you got older, the less inclined you felt to celebrate your birthday. It was simply another day and another reminder that you were getting older. You appreciated the messages and gifts from friends and family who provided them, but the day itself was nothing for people to bend over backwards for. Even having the sweetest boyfriend in the world didn't change your opinion on that. 

"It's just a day like any other. It's not a big deal."

"It isn't any other day, Petal. It's your special day."

You told your florist more than once he didn't need to do anything special for you. Naturally, he didn't listen and showed you a beautiful bed and breakfast he wanted to whisk you away to for the weekend after your birthday. It brought a smile to your face how excited he got about the layout and view. He even took screenshots of some of the highlights and sent them to you. It hit you at that moment that even though it wasn't a big deal for you to celebrate your big day, it meant a great deal to him.

Because Bucky is a passionate man and that extended to you.

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

"The only tears you better cry are tears of joy, Petal," Bucky said, leaning up from where he was currently perched between your thighs. He had you stripped down the moment he walked through the door and already gave you more than one orgasm. "You okay?"

"I’m okay," you promised, giving him a reassuring smile as you brushed back some of the hair that fell in his eyes. He fixed his bun once, but you messed it up the moment your fingers twisted through the strands again. He was so beautiful. You did cry a bit earlier, but that had to do with the mind-shattering orgasm he gave you and how happy he made you. “Better than okay.”

Bucky had a bouquet sent to your place with the amount of flowers matching your age. Not only did it have a handwritten card with it, but he managed to get Ruth, Steve, and so many others to write sweet messages for you. You weren’t even sure how long it took for him to meet and get everyone to sign it. He brought dinner from your favorite restaurant that evening after you told him you weren’t making him cook for you, along with a nice bottle of wine and a beautifully wrapped gift. 

Which he hadn’t let you open yet. 

You were curious about what was under that pretty blue wrapping paper that sat feet away, but you knew it would be special. 

I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

"Then say 'ahh'."

Obediently, your mouth fell open. His eyes darkened as his fingers slid over your folds, bringing the fork to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it the moment it was close enough, taking a moment to savor the delicious flavors on your tongue. Steve baked you a cake, your favorite, and your boyfriend took great pleasure in feeding you bite by bite.

He also took great pleasure by feasting between your thighs.

"Delicious?" he asked, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick the wetness away as you finished your bite. Arousal swirled in your gut like he didn't make you come minutes ago. "Better than sex?"

"It might be," you teased as he tried to pull away, grabbing his wrist to hold him still and lick away the remaining icing from the fork. “Tastes like heaven.”

He growled playfully as he set the utensil aside, throwing a thigh over his broad shoulder to open you up more to him. “You taste like heaven,” he argued. Every nerve ending came to life as he licked his lips and stared at your glistening pussy. “The sweetest nectar.”

It's my birthday, but he's looking at me like I'm the gift.

You were desperate to feel his tongue again, digging your heel into his warm back to pull him closer. He was kind enough to strip down when he yanked your clothes off earlier. The scent of his cologne and the shop lingered on his skin, mixed with the remainder of the baked goods that sat feet away. Your already overwhelmed senses yearned for more.

You let him push your other leg to the side more, the metal tender against your skin. The hand that created so much beauty when it could so easily destroy. The same hand attached the man who brought you to life. You swallowed when you gazed down at his handsome face, his blue eyes sparkling before he winked at you. 

You drive me crazy, Bucky.

You moaned and writhed when he dipped his head down to push his tongue in, his hands easily holding you in place so he could get a proper taste. Your body still as wet and slick as before, as if it knew it belonged to him. A hand went to your breast, gasping when you realized how sensitive your nipples were. Every part you felt sensitive, but it only fueled your need more. You hadn't realized you pushed your pussy into his face more until his chuckle vibrated against your hole.

"See? You know you taste like fucking heaven, which is why you want me to have more. Don't you?"

"No, I don't taste like heaven," you moaned, arching to push your aching breast against his palm more. 

He licked over your clit, circling it with another growl. "Take that back or I may have to give you birthday spankings."

"Is that a threat?" you giggled, your body shaking more. "Oh, no. Not birthday spankings!"

“I’ll put you over my knee,” he threatened, sucking gently on the bundle of nerves.

“I’ll wiggle my ass,” you teased, reaching down to yank on the soft strands of hair as he sucked harder. He teased your soping hole with a fingertip, not pushing any deeper.  “Fuck, fuck. Fine, I taste delicious. Sweest fucking nectar you’ve ever had.”

He hummed in satisfaction before he buried his tongue back inside you, sliding his finger in as well. He greedily licked up what your body so freely offered. His talented mouth and fingers made you get lost in the feel of him, your body trembling as he cared for and loved you. It was the first time in a long time that you actually wanted attention today.

You're giving me everything I didn't know I needed.

Your head fell back as he began tracing a pattern with his tongue, helpless to the onslaught. "A-Are you spelling 'happy birthday'?"

Your thighs trembled as his hand slid from your breast down your torso, moaning in response as he continued to form the letters along your walls. If he hummed along, you'd be close to seeing stars. You practically leaked at this point, his fingers and tongue soaking up every drop that they could. You prayed he didn't try to give you as many orgasms as your age. 

I'm brave, but I don't have a death wish. Or do I?

Bucky added another finger as he pulled back, his lips and scruff wet as you panted. "You're so fucking beautiful. Should treat every day like it's your birthday," he murmured, casually grabbing another bite like his fingers weren't knuckle deep inside you. "You'd let me, wouldn't you? Let you soak my face before you soak my cock? C'mon. One more bite."

Your toes curled as you let him place the cake in your mouth. If you choked and died this way, you were going to haunt his ass until he joined you in the afterlife. You managed to chew and swallow before you nodded, which was a feat considering you were on the edge of your orgasm. 

"That's my good girl. Prettiest girl with the prettiest pussy. Fuck, you're gonna let me ruin you," he praised, quickly putting the fork down so he could get back to work. "I know it isn't my birthday, but I need you to come again. Please, Petal. One more on my tongue. Let me taste that sweet fucking nectar and I'll give you my cock. I know you want it."

Fuck, yes. I want it. I want you. Please, please, please, Bucky.

Your trembling increased as he slipped his tongue back in, your walls pulsing faster. When his fingers curled, brushing that spongy spot inside you repeatedly, you snapped. You cried out as the waves of pleasure threatened to drown you once again, Bucky's groan of delight adding to the erotic melody. He didn’t let up as you rode it out, eagerly drinking all of you up.

You didn't realize he stopped until he moved up your body a minute later, his tongue tangling with yours as you tried to even out your breathing. The faint taste of the icing and your release made you moan as you cupped his cheeks, some of the wetness from his face smearing along your chin. He placed a gentler kiss on your lips once he let you breathe properly, pulling you into his arms and staying close as you came down. 

“Wow,” you sighed, nuzzling his neck.

“Still think Steve’s cake is better than sex?” Bucky smiled as he rubbed your back.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had your cock yet today,” you smiled back as you lifted your head. You weren’t expecting to see a bit sadness swirling in his eyes. “You okay?” you asked, echoing his earlier question.

“I know you didn’t want to make a big deal about today, but I really wanted you to feel special,” he explained, kissing your forehead. “I don’t think flowers and cake are enough.”

“What? How are those not enough?” you questioned, breaking through the haze of ecstasy. “You got me a nice dinner, a beautiful card with kind messages and a gift, too. And not an electronic card. You had to hunt everyone down to get those written,” you pointed out.

I’m never throwing it away.

“It still isn’t enough,” he huffed.

He’s pouting and I’m so in love.

Your heart swelled when you touched his cheek, wondering how and why of all people you were lucky enough to have him. “Bucky, it’s more than enough. Those gifts are special because they’re from YOU. Not to mention, I’m spending the evening and upcoming weekend with my favorite person. You knocked it out of the park.”

He blushed a bit, giving you a small smile. “I did?”

“Best birthday ever,” you swore, giving him your pinky so he’d loop it with his. “Promise.”

His eyes lit up, pressing a soft kiss to the entwined fingers. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thank YOU.”

For everything.

“Ready for me to prove why sex is better than cake? Then you can open your gift?"

“Sex? But there’s still more cake,” you smiled as he pulled you in for another kiss. Your beefy, gorgeous man treated every day like you were his world and today further cemented how much you meant to him. You’d let him shower you with affection each year on your birthday he wanted to.

And you would make sure when his birthday rolled around that you would celebrate with the same kind of love.

*****

Catch up with our beefy florist here. We'll see him again soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

[sableseb]

Hey!! Your writing is some of the best I’ve read. 🫶🫶🫶 I have a lil request: A dark!bucky x f reader smut lol. I read one of the smuts you did and It was v good so I was just wondering if you’d make another? I’m not asking for much included, probably just a lot of teasing/humiliation? I’m like rly into that 😅 You can plot it however you’d like. Take your time if you’ll make it!! Thank you! <3

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

NAVIGATION | M.LIST

synopsis 彡 Your best friend’s dad is dying for a taste.

pairing 彡 dark!bestfriend’s dad!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

warnings 彡 This story will contain the following content: EXPLICIT/SEXUAL SCENES, DARK THEMES, DUBCON/NONCON, humiliation, oral sex (f receiving), somno, squirting, age gap (reader is of legal age), forced orgasm, breeding kink, pervy!Bucky, infidelity (reader is in established relationship - it’s briefly mentioned), overall filthiness 👍

word count 彡 4.7k

author’s note 彡 Hey friend! Here’s your finished request 🫶 this was so fun to write. I hope this is kind of what you wanted! I wrote a little more than planned but I’m happy with it and I hope you’ll be too, mwah 🤍

DISCLAIMER ───THIS BLOG IS NOT SUITABLE FOR AUDIENCES UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MDNI.

You’re hyper-aware of him standing a few meters behind you, his concentrated gaze burning a hole in the back of your hair, the gravity of it inviting you to meet his piercing blue eyes, but you fight the urge to because you don’t want him to know you can feel him, his discomforting stare zeroed in on you. Bucky, your best friend’s dad. The handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed man intrigues and unnerves you simultaneously, the way he looks at you like he can read your thoughts like an open book. Actually, he doesn’t simply look at you—he analyzes you, studies you, scrutinizes you like he’s assessing you, searching for answers to questions he never asks. And his impish smirk that flickers across his devilish, pink lips only deepens your unease, like he’s privy to all the things you aren’t, to all your darkest, gravest desires. 

Brittany, your best friend, is sitting next to you on the couch, practically draped over you as she chews noisily on popcorn kernels and focuses unblinkingly on the flick that she selected hours prior, like she’s afraid she would miss the entire movie if she closes her eyes even for a fleeting moment—she declared it was her turn to choose a film after reminding you that you picked the last time. You have no idea what’s going on, it’s impossible to focus while her dad is leering at you indiscreetly, like he wants you to catch him basically undressing you with his provocative gaze. Brittany’s sporadic remarks on the film or attempts to make conversation are greeted by curt nods or hums as you pretend to follow, but quite frankly, you don’t have a clue what she’s talking about nor do you care to know.

Your best friend invites you over to her house to spend the night more often than not, but you decline most of the time and offer instead to hang out at your apartment or in a public space, unless Bucky isn’t home. You adore Brittany more than anything, but you can’t stomach her dad’s company. It’s his incessant staring—you absolutely hate it when people stare at you, it makes you wildly nervous. Like they’re pinpointing every visible flaw, every physical imperfection, and silently judging you, criticizing you. Based on what Brittany has confided in you in the past, you know her dad is a stickler for perfection, demands perfection, is perfection. And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—Brittany, too, was her own standard of perfection. You can’t help but think you are undeserving of your friendship with the girl because you are just as imperfect as she is perfect, and her dad reminds you without fail each time he simply looks—no, analyzes and studies and scrutinizes you.

But that doesn’t explain the glint of a sinful thing in his seductive blue eyes behind his overly critical gaze, like he is simultaneously demeaning you and tempting you. Like he is repulsed by you and attracted to you all at once.  

And that doesn’t explain the shivers that crawl up the length of your spine every time he holds your gaze, or the terrible aching between your thighs when he smiles, laughs, talks, breathes. 

“Dad!” Brittany calls all of a sudden, rotating her upper body to peek over the couch, “Can you make us some more popcorn?”

Bucky hums, “That was your third serving, and you ate most of it. Does Y/N want more popcorn?”

Two pairs of eyes are suddenly on you, and you resist the urge to cower under the weight of their stares, stammering, “Um, s-sure.”

“You can say no, Y/N,” Mr. Barnes says in a tone that you cannot describe, but it makes your heart jump like you’re in trouble, “Don’t say it simply to humor her.”

Brittany sticks her tongue out playfully at her dad, “She knows she can say no, and she didn’t.”

Bucky chuckles at his daughter’s antics, but he’s still staring at you very intently, wordlessly begging you to meet his penetrative gaze but your resolve is unswerving. You continue to stare at the TV screen, pretending to watch the film. You may fool Brittany, but you can’t fool him—he knows you’re not really watching the movie, that you’re affected by him in many more ways than one. In fact, if you ask him, it’s painfully obvious—how you squirm under his stare and squeeze your legs together at the rich sound of his buttery smooth, deep voice. If you ask him, it’s laughable that you even think for a second that you can fool him. 

He observes you for two seconds longer before he turns away, “More popcorn, as you wish, princess.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she responds in a sing-song tone, turning back around and resting her head on your lap, focusing again on the film, “Can you grab us a blanket, too?”

You can sense Bucky’s voice rising, his protest, even facing away from him, but he decides against it and obliges.You’re actually glad that Brittany suggested it because you’re freezing cold. He steps away for ten seconds, the suffocating tension following, and for ten seconds, a wave of relief washes over you and you feel like you can relax. But that lasts for only ten seconds, and when he returns with two blankets, the weight on your shoulders and unease a-brewing in your gut also return. 

His long, powerful strides carry him over to the both of you and he drapes one blanket over his daughter, but his slitted eyes are fixed steadily on you,  “Would you like a blanket, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, please,” you reply, avoiding his impenetrable gaze, an alien emotion gripping your body but you desperately ignore it. From your peripheral, you see him arch a brow and the weight of his stare shifts, and you can’t help but feel like he is silently judging like he always does unfailingly. 

“Didn’t you learn your manners?” he suddenly asks, and the question makes you flinch. Swallowing hard, you finally turn your head to look at him, and too many emotions to count overtake you.

“W-what?”

“Don’t you know it’s improper to avoid eye contact when you’re talkin’ to people? Look at me when you speak to me,” he orders, his tone oozing authority, dominance, without trying. A feeling akin to guilt or terror swells in your chest and you nod your head furiously, his gaze like a force that propels you into total submission. 

“S-S-Sorry, sir.”

“And lose the stutter,” he tosses the blanket at you, his voice dripping venom, “You’re too old for that, don’t you think?”

You start to tell him you can’t help it, that he makes you nervous and overwhelmingly tense to a fault, but your voice dies on your parched tongue and you can only manage to nod your head again foolishly, willing the fresh tears in your eyes to dry.  Bucky doesn’t immediately leave but casually glimpses at the movie and questions in a bored tone, “What’s this about?”

Brittany jumps to explain the film in full-detail, but Bucky doesn’t bother to even pretend he’s listening to her, staring directly at you, but this time, he can look at your face, at your body, not the back of your head. You can feel him all over you and he isn’t even touching your body—not with his hands, that is. But his eyes are indulging in every inch of you, making you all the more horrified—and excited. Subconsciously, your thighs pinch together, like your brow, and you subtly, almost imperceptibly wiggle your hips. Almost, but Bucky notices and smirks lightly.

“Do you like the movie, Y/N?” he stops Brittany short mid-sentence to ask you, hardened eyes boring a hole into your skull, “What are your thoughts?”

“It’s okay,” you force yourself to look at him, because don’t you know it’s improper to avoid eye contact, “I like it.”

“Okay?” Brittany’s face pinches in what you decide is a combination of concern and incredulity, “Chris Evans is in this movie, the fuck? Nothing he plays in is just okay, Y/N.”

“What do you like about it?” Bucky ignores his daughter, his attention never leaving you.

“All of it,” is your automatic reply, your chest panging with anxiety at his sudden interrogation that is entirely uncalled for. Is he intentionally trying to embarrass you? The wide smirk that dimples his cheeks tells you exactly what you needed to know—that he is, indeed, thriving off of your shame.

“Why don’t you come and help me make the popcorn?” he suggests in a level tone, but you know better than to think there is no ill-intent behind his offer. Brittany lifts her head off your lap to let you up, but you shake your head too quickly, “N-no! I mean, no. That’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn’t want to miss the movie.”

His eyes sparkle in amusement, “You can still see the TV from the kitchen. Come on, I would really appreciate your help.”

You’re on your feet before you can even think twice about it, your unwarranted submission dragging you with him to the kitchen. He’s not going to do anything, not while Brittany is here, you ball your shaking fists and exhale deeply, reminding yourself, Plus, he’s never tried to hurt you before. It’s true—he excessively stares at you, and he is unbothered by the fact that he excessively humiliates you with his hurtful words, but he has never touched you, and you’re at the very least grateful for that. 

Bucky instructs you to grab a bowl while he heats the paper popcorn bag in the microwave and scavenges the pantry for candy. You’re trembling as you follow his directions, maintaining at least a two-foot distance away from him. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks you, his tone tender, sugary-sweet like the chocolate bar he’s holding, “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

He does this a lot, too—strings you along a guilt-trip for even daring to feel even an ounce of unease around him, because he didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He’s always so kind to you, isn’t he? Letting you stay at his house overnight and sit on his couch and eat his popcorn that he bought with his money. 

“No, sir,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Managing a wavering smile, you try not to let your nerves take over your expression, but your cheeks color and your body quivers anyway.

“Then why are you avoidin’ me, sweetheart?” his hip leans on the edge of the countertop to support his powerful body, facing you and folding his bulging arms over his broad chest, “Please, be honest with me.”

“I-I’m not.”

“But you are,” he steps closer to you and you instinctively step back equal distance, which answers his suspicions, and confirms you’re anything but honest.

“You see that?” he steps closer again and you anchor your feet to the ground to prove against his point, but you already messed up, “You don’t want me close, do you?”

“I just… like my space,” is your quick response, warmth rising to your cheeks. You despise that goddamn smirk tugging up the corners of his lips, infinitely smug and almost cruel. 

“Your space?” he’s too close, his eyes dancing between different spots on your flushed face, but you still don’t move. You do shrink, an attempt to get away from him without having to walk away, and the smugness slathered across his gorgeous features only heightens.

Your dewy eyes flit over to Brittany, who is still intensely focused on the film as though she is hanging onto every word that spills out of Chris Evans’ mouth, completely unaware of the circumstances. Bucky scoots closer, practically imprisoning you between his bulky figure and the counter.

Your heart leaps in your chest—in fact, all your organs feel like they’re failing as he cages you in his beefy arms and the tip of his nose brushes over the base of your neck, right above your collarbone. The tingles that result in the tips of your fingers, your toes, and in your core are what you imagine heaven feels like. 

“Are you still datin’ that vanilla bastard you brought with you a couple months ago?” he suddenly questions in a hushed tone, dragging his wet lips up the column of your neck to your earlobe. Peter, your long-term boyfriend of two and a half years. The two of you are highschool sweethearts, and you love him more than words can embody. Peter! The reminder that you have a boyfriend dashes you back to earth.

“Y-Y-Yes,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You crane your neck to move your face away from him, but that’s your first mistake—Bucky interprets this as an invitation to pepper light, wet kisses all over the burning skin of your neck.

Your eyelids flutter shut for a nanosecond before you peel them open and press your trembling fists against Bucky’s solid chest, “Wait, wait… what about Brittany—”

“Sh, sh,” Bucky hushes you, “Don’t you like this? I see how you react to me, baby.”

“I… I don’t know what y-you’re talking about,” you say as your thighs conveniently clench together, and Bucky titters breathily against your glistening neck, detecting the irony behind your words.

“Filthy girl,” he drawls, his fingertips skimming over the side of your bare thigh, and you instantly regret wearing little shorts and not opting for sweatpants instead. His nose bumps your jaw and he inhales deeply, breathing in your flowery scent.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he weaves his long, thick fingers in your unkempt hair, “Tell me how he pleasures you. Does he satisfy you? Make you cum? Fuck you senseless until you’re reduced to tears?”

Your heart is hammering against your ribcage at impossible speeds, you fear it will burst out of your chest if Bucky doesn’t let up. Curling your lip, you spit with the little assurance you can muster, “Mr. Barnes, let me go. This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t right?” Mr. Barnes asks in an innocent tone, but the wild smirk on his face is everything but innocent, “It isn’t right that your legs are pinched together? That you’re dripping right now and I haven’t even touched you properly yet?”

“Mr. Barnes,” your tone is desperate with a hint of fear, “Mr. Barnes, please.”

Suddenly, he shoves a large hand into your shorts, over your underwear, and if it wasn’t for his death-grip on you, surely you would’ve collapsed, you’re overwhelmed by too many new sensations. You bite his shoulder to muffle your moan that crawls out of you without warning, clinging onto his bulky biceps for purchase.

The rough pad of his middle digit swipes across your sopping wet slit over the material of your cotton panties and presses up against your small hole teasingly, and you mewl quietly, tears springing in your eyes. A low groan vibrates in his chest.

“I knew it,” he whispers erotically in your ear, “I knew you were a dirty little slut, your little pussy droolin’ for a man who isn’t your boyfriend, who’s double your age, who’s your best friend’s fuckin’ dad.”

You don’t dare open your mouth to speak because if you did, you’d moan. 

“I bet that excites you, isn’t that right, sugar?” he thumbs and pinches your clit, and you whimper softly, bolts of pleasure shooting up your squirming body.

“N-no.”

“No?” he chuckles darkly, reinforcing his grip on you and pulling you against his chest forcefully, “Making your best friend’s dad hard doesn’t excite you? Because you make me so fuckin’ hard, baby. All the goddamn time. I’m fuckin’ throbbing right now.”

To prove his statement, he rolls his solid bulge against your bare leg, coaxing a barely-audible moan out of the both of you. 

“P-please,” you whisper desperately, “Mr. Barnes, I—”

“What the hell is taking so long, Daddy?” Brittany calls, beginning to turn around to see what was interfering with the two of you getting her popcorn in a timely manner. Bucky leaps away from you and he’s across the kitchen in two seconds flat, turned away from his daughter and you to hide the noticeable tent in his jeans.

“Just a minute, princess,” he calls back in an even tone as though he wasn’t just groping his daughter’s best friend, grabbing the bowl you found and ripping open the popcorn bag. You’re still frozen in your spot, recollecting your bearings after Bucky broke every single rule in the book. Your knees are weak and your body is numb, you don’t even have the strength to cry, but you badly want to.

“Y/N! Come on!” Brittany beckons you over, pointing at the movie, “This is my favorite part, hurry!”

Your wobbling legs are carrying you over to the couch like your body is in auto-mode. Bucky is looking directly at you with a look that you don’t recognize, that you’re not used to, but you refuse to look back, filled with dread at the very thought of spending the night with him in a ten-foot radius of you.

Bucky doesn’t bother you and Brittany for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on the edge. But Brittany doesn’t comment on your stricken expression. She probably didn’t even notice it, her only concern is her foolish infatuation with the handsome actor on the screen. 

After the movie finished, Brittany offered to go upstairs to her bedroom, and you’re quick to say yes and drag her up the winding stairs. The two of you stay up for another couple hours until Brittany is first to doze off, and you succumb to your own exhaustion a half-hour later, resting beside your best friend on her queen bed.

Shortly after you descend into a state of slumber, Brittany’s door creaks open and a sliver of yellow light from the hallway pours into the otherwise pitch dark room. Soft footsteps approach your unconscious body, your untamed hair, meandering strands fanned out on the soft, stark white pillow, swept away from your relaxed face, your dry lips parted as you steadily inhale and exhale. Then, you’re suddenly cold—the duvet pushed off your practically bare body save for your tiniest pair of cotton shorts and a cropped tee bunched around the base of your ribcage thanks to your unconscious tossing and turning, exposing your supple belly.

Your chest rises and falls as you sleep peacefully, your stiff nipples poking invitingly through the soft fabric of your shirt, Bucky has to resist the urge to pinch them. He carefully sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, watching your face for a minute reaction, a signal that you’re awake but you don’t grant it. He smiles inwardly, knowing that you’re in deep sleep and your petite body is at his disposal. Drifting his gaze over your lithe figure, his cock twitches and stirs as he thinks about all the things he could do to you right now, in your vulnerable state.

He starts with your warm tummy, calloused fingertips softly outlining shapes around your navel. But his hooded gaze is zeroed in on your blank face, searching for any indication that you’re ascending from dreamland to reality. He does recall you saying in the past that you’re a deep sleeper.

Giving a cautionary glance at his daughter sleeping beside you, Bucky removes his jeans and slowly, gently mounts you, admiring your girlish features, how sweet and weak you look like this, he has to stifle a groan. It takes everything in him to not pounce on you, devour you, sink his teeth into your spongy flesh. You shift restlessly under him and he freezes, waiting for you to rise but you never do.

With painstaking focus, Bucky lifts your shirt over your chest, the mounds of flesh spilling out of the material. His mouth waters as he marvels at your exposed chest, your quarter-sized areolas and firm nipples, begging for his tongue to swipe over them, his teeth to bite into them, his fingers to tweak and play with them. And he simply cannot resist, cupping the mounds in his palms and gliding his thumb over the tiny buds.

Again, you stir in your sleep and Bucky withdraws like your skin was on fire and you burned him, certain this time that you’ll wake up. You rock a little before you seem to melt into the mattress, but you’re still deep in your slumber.

More assuredly, he glides his rough hands up-and-down your smooth sides, noticing how your breathing pattern shifts, quickens under his warm touch. He loves how you feel, soft and fragile like you’ll break if he’s too rough with you, like porcelain. You’re not even conscious but your body is reacting to him exactly how it always does, trembling and squirming and writhing. 

“You’re so soft, sugar, just like how I imagined,” Bucky whispers to you, to himself. He can carry on like this, touching you like this forever, he doesn’t even have to fuck you because the feeling of your supple skin under his harsh fingertips alone is simply euphoric, too good, too perfect. 

But he’s still going to fuck you, one day. He’s sure of it. 

His wet tongue is suddenly lapping at your burning skin, above your nipple. He doesn’t even care that Brittany is soundly asleep less than a foot away, his arousal blocking his rationality. He needs to feel you, to commit the feeling of you to his memory—he needs you. 

Bucky parts your delicate legs and wraps them around his waist before delving in, licking and sucking and biting your puckered nipple. His hands are busy grabbing and groping everything in reach. Groaning lightly, his leaking cock swells and throbs in his wet briefs, more than ready for your warm pussy wrapped around it, squeezing the seed out of it. 

His wet lips kiss down your quivering body, making a brief pit-stop at your belly, above your womb, to lap and suck the skin around your button, before dragging lower, below your waist.

Bucky unties the knot on your shorts and folds down the fabric to kiss directly above your hot pussy.

“You’re burning, baby,” he purrs breathlessly, tugging your shorts down to your knees for better access to your dripping cunt. He grabs your shaking thighs and spreads them wider to accommodate his head in between.

There is a pause as Bucky squints in the dark, staring directly at the crotch of your white, cotton panties, the dark patch of slick over your drooling hole. Fuck, you’re gushing. The sight alone can make him bust in his briefs.

He leans in, his nose nudging your swollen clit, breathing in your tangy scent. You smell so fucking delicious, like a full-course meal. 

Swiping his pink tongue over the dainty material, you gasp in your sleep and stir, but Bucky doesn’t care anymore if you catch him—he’s dying for a taste, and you’ll give it to him, asleep or not, like it or not.

Hooking his thumbs under the band of your panties, Bucky pulls off the flimsy thing that was hiding his long-awaited dessert. He groans again, met with the mouth-watering sight of your pretty pussy, puffy and drooling slick. Wetting his lips, his tongue darts out and drags a bold stripe up your glistening cunt, and your spasming thighs subconsciously snap together as you’re catapulted out of your slumber. 

“Mr. Barnes?” you slur sleepily, mustering the little strength you have left to lift your head, “What—”

Bucky prys apart your legs and licks you again, bolder, wetter, sloppier, and you slap a palm over your mouth to silence your loud mewl. 

“Mr. Barnes!” you whimper, reaching down and weaving your nimble fingers through his short hair, “Oh my god!”

“Don’t wake Brittany up,” he warns you in an oddly calm and collected tone despite the circumstances, gliding the flat of his tongue over your sensitive clit. Heat pools under your skin, sinks down into your bones, your little toes curling and your death-grip on his hair tightening. Incoherent syllables slip out your parted lips as Bucky proceeds to lap at your scorching cluster of nerves and fastens his wet lips around your pearl. 

Each swipe of his tongue sends thrills sweeping up your writhing body, your brain going fuzzy as wavelets of head-spinning pleasure engulf you completely. Bucky is unforgiving, suctioning your engorged clit in his wet mouth and pursing his lips around the slippery bud, all the while his thick fingers rub between your drenched folds. 

Throwing your head to the side, you look directly at your best friend’s expressionless face as she lightly snores, and your gut cartwheels as humiliation seeps into your chest alongside the toe-curling sensations.

“You c-can’t,” you whimper, stinging tears pricking your eyelids, “Please, Mr. Barnes. B-Brittany is—”

“Asleep,” he pulls apart your sticky folds, his thumb replacing his tongue and rubbing tight circles around your slick clit, “You best not make a sound, baby, or you’ll wake her.”

The tip of his tongue swirls around your tight hole, “You don’t want her to catch you like this, do you, sweetheart?”

“Mr. Barnes…”

“Shh,” he hums, vibrations crawling up your spine, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Like a starved man, he sloppily devours your pussy, suckling and lapping and kissing your puffy folds, your wet clit, his slippery tongue slivering up-and-down your dripping cunt, collecting your slick in his greedy mouth. One hand squeezes your thigh, spreading it wider to taste every nook and cranny of your weeping pussy. Your hips buck up and roll uncontrollably, the delicious friction numbing your brain.

“Filthy, filthy little girl,” Bucky mutters against your pussy, spitting on your clit and stroking it feverishly with his calloused fingertips, spreading the stickiness, “You’re dripping onto my tongue, and you taste like fuckin’ heaven. Fuck.”

A lewd, wet, popping noise meets your ears as he sloppily slurps your cunt, flicking his broad tongue up your slit to your little bud to nibble the sensitive pearl. Shockwaves ripple throughout your spasming body as your orgasm builds in your lower gut, your quivering thighs squeezing around his head and subconsciously tugging him closer as you fuck down on his ravenous tongue.

Brittany shifts next to you and your heart lurches, fear and excitement, worry and embarrassment gripping your body at the possibility of her witnessing your climax at the cruel hands of her own dad. 

You try to fight it, but it’s too late—your orgasm conquers your thrashing body and your back curls off the spongy bed as you whine out loud, your overstimulated pussy squirting and clenching and gaping around nothing but air. Bucky licks you relentlessly, your juices pouring into his awaiting mouth and he happily laps it up. 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you croon, humping uncontrollably against his glistening face, covered in layers of slick and spit. Bucky fills you with his thick fingers and fucks you with them, prolonging your powerful climax.

He lifts his head and smiles at you as you descend from your high, his mouth and cheeks coated in your wet, sticky mess. Mounting you, he caresses your cheek and tells you, “I can’t wait to pound this perfect pussy, fill you up with my fuckin’ babies, right—” he places the palm of his hand over you smooth tummy, where your fertile womb is, “ —here. What do you think your boyfriend would think? Your belly round with another man’s babies?”

“Mr. Barnes…” Your heart trips and guilt pangs in your chest as you realize you haven’t thought about Peter once this entire time. Oh my god… oh my god, you cheated on Peter!

“Would you like that, sugar?” he groans, his eyes glazed over in lust, “Would you like me to knock you up right next to your best friend?”

As if on cue, Brittany stirs and mumbles incoherent nonsense under her breath, her eyelids fluttering. You and Bucky both look at her tensely, fearfully. She relaxes and you both pray that she is still asleep, until her groggy voice rises, quelling the strained silence:

“Y/N?”