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sophaholic · 17 days ago

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Oh my god 😭😭

FIVE MORE MINUTES

he’d seen war. he’d saved the world. but nothing ever wrecked him like her. she ruined him in the gentlest way—soft smiles in the morning light, her bare skin tangled in his sheets, the way she whispered his name like a promise. it was the way she looked at him, like he wasn’t captain america, just a man she loved. steve used to think battlefields were where he felt most alive. but now, he knew better. now, it was in slow mornings. in lazy touches and sleepy kisses. in the way her body clung to his even after the high passed. he’d never known peace could feel like this. like her. and hell if he’d ever give it up.

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

genre: soft smut, established relationship, slice of life, fluff-heavy intimacy

bot version: STEVE ROGERS- lazy mornings

tw: MDNI 18+, explicit sexual content, lazy morning sex, emotional intimacy, creampie, post-sex vulnerability, domestic tenderness, soft!Steve, praise, sleepy touches, implied breeding kink, still-connected aftercare

Steve had spent most of his life finding purpose on the battlefield.

There was a certain clarity out there—chaos all around, but his path always sure. Danger made things simple. You protect people. You fight the bad guys. You move forward. It wasn’t easy, but it made sense. Adrenaline, discipline, the clean snap of decisions made in seconds—it all formed a rhythm that kept him going.

For a long time, he believed nothing could ever feel better than that—the high of a mission well done, the weight of his shield in his hands, the ache of tired muscles after a long fight for something that mattered.

Turns out, he’d just been looking in the wrong place.

Because nothing—nothing—compared to this.

To mornings like this.

No explosions. No briefings. No armor. Just sunlight and softness and her.

The bed was still warm with the comfort of sleep, the light outside pale and golden, sneaking through the half-drawn blinds. It spilled across the hardwood floor and the rumpled sheets in long, lazy stripes.

And there she was—lying beside him in one of his old T-shirts, faded from too many washes, draped messily off one shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even, lips parted slightly, cheek pressed into the pillow like she hadn’t a care in the world.

Steve watched her for a moment, the corners of his mouth tugging into a quiet, disbelieving smile. It still caught him off guard sometimes—that he got to have this. That he got to have her.

His fingers moved before he could think better of it, brushing lightly across the bare stretch of her thigh that had slipped out from under the covers. He slid closer, the weight of his arm curling around her waist as he gently pulled her back into his chest.

Her warmth sank into him like sunlight on skin. Familiar. Soothing.

He pressed a slow, reverent kiss to her exposed shoulder—soft and lingering, more breath than contact.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough from sleep and laced with affection.

She stirred slightly, a muffled sound escaping her as she shifted back against him, but didn’t fully wake.

“I’ve got training with Bucky this morning,” he whispered, trailing his lips up toward her neck, brushing her with the kind of kisses that held no rush, no urgency—just devotion.

Her response came seconds later, voice gravelly and sweet in that way only early mornings could make it: “Five more minutes…”

She pressed her hips back into him unconsciously, tucking herself tighter into the curve of his body like a puzzle piece falling into place. Her ass brushed against the soft swell of him, and he exhaled, slow and shaky, the temptation curling low in his belly like smoke.

Steve chuckled against her neck, the sound low and warm. “Five more minutes,” he echoed, dragging his hand lazily across her stomach, the pads of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of the shirt. His shirt.

His fingers splayed wide, possessive without pressure, his thumb stroking the soft skin just above her hip bone.

She hummed sleepily, wriggling under his touch, and that simple, instinctive movement made something inside him tighten.

Still slow. Still tender.

His hand traveled up, slipping beneath the cotton to brush over the swell of her breast—bare, warm, perfect. He cupped her gently, thumb flicking over her nipple in a lazy, absent caress that had her sucking in a soft breath.

“Steve…”

“I know,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “Just—just stay like this.”

His hips rolled forward, a slow grind, nothing sharp or desperate, just friction and heat and the sweet drag of skin on skin beneath the thin layer of fabric. She gasped quietly, hips tilting to meet his in a sleep-hazed rhythm that was more about feeling than thinking.

There was something unhurried about it. A kind of sacred intimacy in how he touched her. Like he had all the time in the world. Like this was the only thing that mattered.

Because, in that moment, it was.

He eased her leg forward with his knee, opening her up just enough. His hand slid down again, finding the warm, wet heat between her thighs, and he groaned softly at the feel of her. Ready for him. Even half-asleep, she was ready for him.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathed, pressing his forehead to the back of her neck.

She turned her face, looking over her shoulder at him, eyes still heavy with sleep, lips parted.

“Don’t stop.”

Like he ever could.

He shifted behind her, nudging his boxers down just enough to free himself, the tip of his cock brushing against the soft swell of her ass.

“Stay,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, breath stuttering as she felt him rub against her.

He kissed her shoulder again, again, like a prayer. “Always.”

Her breath caught as he pressed into her—inch by slow, reverent inch—his hand splayed across her belly, grounding them both. There was no rush in it, no frantic need. Just the quiet miracle of this. Of her. Of the way her body opened up for him, warm and slick and so heartbreakingly soft.

“God,” Steve exhaled, the sound almost a groan. He felt her tighten around him instinctively, like her body didn’t want to let him go. “You feel so good, sweetheart.”

She whimpered softly, caught between sleep and sensation, her hand slipping back to find his hip and hold him there. Her thighs relaxed around him, pliant, trusting, every breath she took hitching slightly as he bottomed out inside her and held there—deep, still, full.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

There was something sacred about it. The way their bodies fit. The quiet that wrapped around them like another blanket. Her heartbeat under his palm. Her breath against his skin. The slow, steady throb of him inside her.

Steve’s hand drifted up to cup her breast again, thumb brushing over her nipple in an absent, tender motion. Her hips tilted back against him, subtle, a wordless plea, and he answered it without hesitation.

His hips rolled forward—just barely. A lazy, deliberate thrust that dragged against the deepest part of her, pulling a low moan from her lips.

“That what you want?” he asked, voice like gravel, sleep-heavy and full of adoration. “Nice and slow?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering shut, her body melting under him.

And so he gave it to her. Everything.

He moved with an aching patience, hips grinding in a rhythm so slow it was almost torturous, his cock dragging through her slick heat like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Each thrust was deep and drawn-out, like he was savoring the feeling of her wrapped around him.

Their bodies rocked together under the thin weight of the sheets, the soft rustle of fabric and quiet, shared breaths filling the room. She gasped with each drag of him inside her, the pleasure curling through her low and thick like honey.

“Feel you everywhere,” she whispered, head tilting back into the crook of his neck, her voice barely more than a breath. “Steve—”

He kissed the side of her face, murmuring low things against her skin—things she’d never remember word for word, but would feel in her chest for the rest of the day. Sweet, quiet things like "I’ve got you," and "You’re everything," and "Just like that, baby, that’s it."

He brought her to the edge without ever changing the pace. No pounding. No frenzy. Just the slow, sweet burn of being loved.

When she came, it was quiet and full-bodied. A soft cry caught in her throat as her muscles clenched around him, her legs trembling slightly from where they tangled with his under the covers. Her body shook in his arms, her back arching, fingers curling into the sheets.

Steve held her through it, slowing even more as she fell apart, whispering praises into her ear, lips brushing her skin like he couldn’t stand not touching her.

It was only after her body stopped trembling that he let himself go—shallow thrusts and soft groans spilling into the hollow of her shoulder as he came deep inside her, arms tightening around her in something close to awe.

Then, stillness again.

The kind that didn’t demand anything. The kind that wrapped them in warmth and afterglow, in the scent of sweat and sex and sleep.

They stayed like that. His body flush against her back, his cock still nestled inside her, softened now but still thick and warm and keeping them connected. Neither of them made a move to shift. To clean up. To start the day.

She let out a breathy hum, the kind that sounded like satisfaction and contentment rolled into one.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbled.

Steve let out a quiet laugh, nose buried in her hair. “You need ‘em right now?”

“Not really.” She shifted slightly, hips rolling back into his, and smiled when she felt him twitch inside her.

“Careful,” he warned, voice low, amused. “I said I’ve got training in an hour, not that I wouldn’t cancel it.”

She hummed again, her hand finding his and pulling it tighter around her waist. “Five more minutes.”

Steve smiled, soft and full of something warm in his chest. Something real.

“Five more minutes,” he repeated, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

And they stayed like that—wrapped in heat and softness, tangled up and not quite ready to let the morning go.

Because for all the wars he’d fought, this was the only place Steve Rogers ever truly wanted to be: still inside the woman he loved, the world outside quiet, and time stretching like eternity around them.

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sophaholic · 24 days ago

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kiss cam chaos. - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x girlfriend!reader, basketball game, kiss cam surprise, public affection, viral moment, crowd losing it, internet collectively sobbing.

need to use this pic, sorry not sorry

---

You were mid-sentence when it happened.

Something about the second quarter, about how LeBron’s passing tonight is actually unreal, and Pedro was nodding with that little wrinkle between his brows, totally focused on what you were saying.

You didn’t even notice the arena screaming at first.

People had been loud all night. It was a Lakers game, after all.

But this was different. Higher-pitched. Almost... gleeful?

Then your friend elbowed you.

“Look!”

You followed her finger up to the jumbotron.

Big red heart.

White block letters.

KISS CAM.

And in the center of the screen — clear as day — you and Pedro.

Your mouths dropped open at the same time. Pedro blinked like he couldn’t believe it. You could already see the outline of a very distinct "oh no" forming on his face.

Then, in true Pedro fashion, he smiled. That soft, crooked, I'm yours smile. Turned to you. Tilted his head.

“May I?” he asked under his breath.

You laughed, cheeks flushed, nodding. “Yeah. Of course.”

He leaned in — slow, gentle, intentional. One hand cupped your cheek as he kissed you like it was second nature. No pressure. No performance.

Just you and him, framed by 20,000 screaming strangers and a floating animated heart.

The crowd went feral.

Someone behind you yelled, “WE LOVE YOU PEDROOOO!”

You both pulled back, laughing, his forehead resting against yours for a second before he leaned into your shoulder, wrapping an arm around you like it was where he was meant to be.

And just like that, you went right back to talking — like you hadn’t just set the entire stadium on fire.

By the time you got home, the video had been reposted everywhere.

Pedro Pascal and his girlfriend on the Kiss Cam at tonight’s Lakers game 🥹💜 They’re so in love I’m gonna SCREAM The way he looked at her??? The forehead lean????

One edit showed your kiss in slow motion, sparkles added for emotional devastation.

Another had a voiceover:

“You don’t just kiss someone like that. That’s love.”

The internet lost its collective mind.

You scrolled through the chaos, snuggled under Pedro’s arm on the couch while he read the headlines over your shoulder.

“‘Softest man alive kisses even softer girlfriend at Lakers game’,” he read aloud, deadpan.

You giggled. “They’re not wrong.”

He turned and kissed your temple, pulling you in tighter. “Guess they got good taste.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk

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sophaholic · 25 days ago

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don't be embarrassed. - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: smut (18+), squirting for the first time, soft praise, gentle comfort, reader is embarrassed, Pedro is very much not, body worship, sweet and spicy aftercare, established relationship.

---

You didn’t mean for it to happen.

It was just—his fingers had been so deep, his voice in your ear so sweet and filthy, his body everywhere on top of you and around you and inside you. The orgasm had come in a wave that knocked the air from your lungs—

—and then there was a rush.

And a gasp.

And the bed sheets were damp beneath your thighs.

You froze.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, horrified.

Pedro stilled instantly, his hand on your stomach, his other one still curved around your thigh.

“Baby?” he asked softly, confused. “You okay?”

You looked down and saw the mess you’d made.

Your face flushed hot. “I—I didn’t mean to do that. I’ve never— I’m so sorry.”

He blinked. Then looked down. Then looked back up at you like you’d just handed him a Nobel Prize.

“That,” he said, breathless, “was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

You stared. “It’s all over the bed—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the bed,” he laughed, already pressing kisses along your neck, your jaw, your lips. “Are you kidding me? You just squirted all over me. I’m never recovering.”

You squirmed, embarrassed, but he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down with a growl.

“No. Don’t go anywhere. You think I’m letting you run off and hide after that?” He kissed your stomach reverently. “That was perfect. You were perfect.”

“But I made such a mess—”

“I like the mess,” he said, meeting your eyes. “I wanna make you messy.”

Your stomach flipped.

He hovered over you, nose brushing yours. “You trusted me. Let go for me. That’s fucking beautiful, baby.”

You melted into his hands.

And later, as he changed the sheets with a lazy smile and kissed your thigh before tucking you into clean ones, you realized something.

Pedro didn’t just want your pleasure.

He worshipped it.

Every unfiltered, soaked, wild part of it.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

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sophaholic · 26 days ago

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when they serve bisexual realness

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sophaholic · 26 days ago

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GIVE HIM TO ME NOWWWW

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sophaholic · 28 days ago

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Look at this sweetheart for Mens health Magazine

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sophaholic · 1 month ago

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JOHN WALKER, AVA STARR, and YELENA BELOVA Thunderbolts* (2025)

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sophaholic · 1 month ago

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i'm here to talk about training with boyfriend!bucky 👀 let's be honest, you are doing this with him mostly to just stare at him when he is training, at first he is okay with this, but later?

"oh hell no, baby, you are training with me" but you just want to look at his abs???? let a girl live.

after your first training you are exhausted, but the more you do it the better it feels, but let's be honest still the best cardio is your boyfriend (he is 100% the type who will manhandle you, just saying)

masterlists

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sophaholic · 1 month ago

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In The Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're finding it difficult to sleep in your new home. Bucky knows how to fix it.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral sex (f receiving; I like a giver), fingering, defiling a kitchen.

A/N: This is from a long time ago... was just going through fics I wrote when I used to love the MCU and came across this one. If there's anyone on here from way back then, it might sound familiar. Imagine this to be set in some multiverse where Steve never left in Endgame and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Fic (masterlist coming soon!)

♡♡♡♡

The clock’s just gone ten past twelve when he feels you slip out of bed.

Bucky shouldn’t know that— the time. He should be dead to the world, asleep in the comfort of his bed with his girl warm by his side, full and sated and happy thanks to good company, good food, and even better liquor that can actually do something to him. Instead, he’s hyper-aware and questioning why you wouldn’t be dead asleep too and, before he knows it, he’s following in your footsteps.

It’s jarring, being awake at this hour in a mostly-empty home.

The halls feel too narrow and you still haven’t put the pictures up so the walls look bare and cold, and the dining table is missing a leg so you had to have dinner on the couch but you couldn’t find the box with the cushions which, now that Bucky thinks about it is probably still at the compound and god that means he has to go up there again—

“Hey,” he hears, whisper-soft and cautious.

For a moment Bucky feels like maybe you’re the one who woke up to go after him, like how you used to do so long ago, worried about things neither of you could control. But no, it’s him, looking for you.

It’s him, finding you tired and rumpled in front of the stove, the red kettle Nat gave you as a gift steaming away on the burner. With the lights dimmed you look like a dream, but then again you look like that at any time of the day.

Bucky’s hands find your hips easily, skin and metal brushing over soft skin and worn cotton. They slip beneath your sleep shirt, a faded old thing he got as a gag gift some Christmases ago— Sam still asks him about the vulgar print on the front. Bucky tries to forget, but you never let him. Especially not on nights you wear the damn thing to bed.

He finds warmth, the same kind that should be next to him in bed right now, which— “Can’t sleep?”

You sigh, melting easily into the embrace. Your nose is cold, colder than it has any right to be with the heat on, nuzzling against the rough scratch of hair along his jaw. “Feels weird.”

It does— the house. Well, home, now, filled with your clothes and your furniture and the dishes you put in the dishwasher after your friends left a few hours ago because our first meal in our new home can’t be in paper plates, Buck and I already took the glasses out of the box, baby and he’s never been good at saying no. The house feels weird and he can’t wait until it doesn’t, with the pictures up, and the throw blanket on the couch, and those damn cushions he can’t believe he forgot.

“Bet you’d feel better back in bed,” Bucky murmurs, smiles, lips soft against the skin of your neck. “With me.”

You hum, could be a snort if it were any time except almost one in the morning and if you hadn’t spent the whole day hauling boxes and building whatever furniture you could before exhaustion won out. “I just put the kettle on.”

Bucky looks at the offending piece of kitchenware over your shoulder, willing it to somehow set on fire but wait, no. That would be very, very bad. Bucky has a mortgage now, shit.

“Okay,” he says instead, shrugging. “We’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice the time. Instead, he notices your palms on his cheeks and your thumbs over his cheekbones; the way you taste of mint and something else, something like cloves and honey, no doubt from the sips you stole from his drink during the moving-day-turned-housewarming. He notices the way you sink into his body, held up by his arms caging you against the counter behind you, moaning softly at the wet sweeps of his tongue against the seam of your lips, parting under the pressure.

Bucky grips the countertop a bit too hard, gritting his teeth as he breaks the kiss. “How long ‘til that thing goes off?”

“We’re not defiling our kitchen so soon,” you laugh into his lips, sweet. The hands on his cheeks pull his face further away until you’re squinting up at him, lips spit-slick and shiny in the low light delighted and knowing all the same. “This is where we eat—”

“And I’m hungry,” Bucky grins, wicked, matches your own expression if only a bit dirtier. “Might as well use it for what it’s for, right?”

This time you do snort, forehead resting against his own. The sound settles deep in Bucky’s bones, spreading all over his body in places he didn’t know he had, warm and buzzing like a beehive. “You’re so gross.”

He is. He really, really is and he blames it all on himself and on you and the way you sigh into his mouth when he gets his hands above the swell of your ass, one of his thick thighs slipping between your own, warmth seeping everywhere you touch him. He blames it on those pretty eyes and that pretty mouth, those hands tugging at the bottom half of his hair that’s untied, that sweet voice moaning into the night when he nips at that spot behind your ear—

“Baby.”

"Bucky," you laugh softly, glancing at him. It’s near-dark, the lights still dimmed, but he swears he can map out the marks on your skin, can count every single lash on your eyelids.

"Baby," he replies in the same tempting tone, watching your eyes with his own, so clear and expressive, so stunning.

You sigh, resigned. Bucky doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“We’re gonna have to clean in the morning.”

“Guess I’ll have to suffer,” he says, hands warm on your thighs hauling you onto the counter.

He’s gentle as he parts your thighs, takes his time kissing the inside until you’re sighing all breathy and sweet, trembling on both sides of his head. Fingers hooking onto gray cotton, he slides your panties down your legs, bringing you closer to the edge of the counter and towards his mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes so blue when they flick up to your own.

Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the hair tie holding the longest strands back. Your lips part in a smile, wavering slightly at the edges as he ducks in, tongue soft and wet against your heat. He licks a broad stripe along your folds, takes in the way you shake almost imperceptibly— only knows it happens because he’s looking for it.

Bucky drinks you in, picks you apart with his tongue and his fingers, wet along his lips, his jaw, and his flesh fingers. He makes it messy, lets you whine and wail into your otherwise quiet home, grinding your hips onto his face and the two digits plunging inside your cunt, stroking that sweet spot deep inside.

You come apart on his tongue, slowly and quietly, a breathy gasp and the rhythmic clench of your muscles against his fingers the only warning he gets before he feels even more wetness pooling on his tongue, dripping down his palm.

“Oh!”

He kisses at the inside of your thighs, leaves it wet and sticky as you come down from your high. His thumbs caress your hipbones, feeling the slight quiver of your core against his touch, reveling in it.

To his right, the kettle starts whistling.

“Water’s boiling, honey,” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crease of your thighs.

You groan, fingers tugging at the hair tangled in them. “I hate you.”

Bucky laughs, throaty and with his chest, slightly loud at a time where the night seems to stand still. There’s only the rush of your breath and the whistle of the kettle, drawn-out and cut off as he turns the burner off and moves it onto a cold, unused one. He gravitates between your thighs once more, lips on yours like magnets. He kisses you slowly, takes his time and lets you bite at his bottom lip, slipping your tongue against his and pulling those sounds from his throat that play in your head like your favorite song.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You sigh deeply, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.”

Bucky feels it spread from the top of his head down to his toes, fingers on your waist curling into fabric and skin. It’s hot and cold, bad and good. He feels it.

“Anywhere you want, sugar.”

Happiness.

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sophaholic · 1 month ago

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going on a date with bucky barnes and it all goes so nicely, so sweetly, so smoothly. you both had so much fun, chemistry and a good time. he's charming, witty and he keeps flirting and complimenting you at every chance he gets. he held your hand all night long, neither of you even noticed it, it just happened naturally, your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling and both of your hearts are at ease.. that's until the date comes to an end, it's time to pay and you ask him if he wants to go 50/50.

that would be the first time he lets go of your hand that night, it's unintentional just happened out of pure shock. "50... what.." the confusion on his face, you'd think he's an alien seeing earth the first time.

"you know.. 50/50.. we'll split the bill between us"

"split the bill?" he asks and you just nod, he'd blink at you, "50/50.. splitting the bill.. what is this about, i asked you on a date"

now it's your turn to be the alien seeing earth for the first time, "we are on a date, bucky. this is a date"

"no, it's not a date."

"it is a date"

"you're asking me to split the bill, this is not a date"

"oh my god sam was right, you can be such a drama queen." you laugh, he just stares at you, blankly. "it might've been a while since the last time you went on a date so let me break it down for you.. these days, people who go on dates split the bill, they go 50/50" you shrug, "it's normal"

"it's normal? you've done it before?"

you nod, "every date i've been on has been 50/50 yeah"

bucky nearly flips the table. bucky who spent all of his three dollars in the 1940's trying to win a teddybear for a girl he had a crush on, bucky who used to save up most of his income in an old shoe box underneath his bed so he can take his girl to a nice diner, bucky who went to the florist to get you a bouquet of roses and didn't even ask for the price just handed his credit card because to him your smile is priceless, bucky is about to have a stroke.

"you've never been on a date" he says, face still blank.

"yes i have"

"no you haven't. this is your first date." he says, "i'm your first time." he smirks and you blush at the possible implication. "50/50.." he scoffs under his breath, "what else are you gonna tell me next? i should walk on the inside of the sidewalk? keep my jacket on when you're cold? sleep further from the door? not open doors for you? jesus sweetheart what has the world come to?"

you hide your smile, you love it when he rambles like that, he's so calm yet so offended all at once somehow, it's funny and endearing. "what's wrong with walking on the inside of the sidewalk?" you joke and he rolls his eyes making you laugh, "so.. no 50/50? are you sure?" you ask one last time, hands on your purse on your lap.

he keeps his eyes on you as he pays the bill, glaring playfully, gets up and pulls out your chair before putting his black leather jacket on your shoulders, "no doll," he offers you his hand which you quickly hold, intertwining your fingers with his, and opens the door with his metal hand, "no 50/50."

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sophaholic · 1 month ago

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pinned down - smut 18+

MINORS DNI

pairing: thunderbolt!bucky barnes x f!thunderbolt!younger!reader summary: daily sparring sessions with bucky always toe the line between playfulness and tension. but today, that tension snaps. when another round ends with you straddling him on the mat, it sets off a chain reaction of confessions, teasing, and desire too long buried. bucky finally stops holding back, and so do you. word count: 8.8k warning(s): 18+ explicit content warning, smut, mature themes, light swearing, some power dynamics, dry humping, unprotected p in v, semi-public setting, mention of thunderbolts*, age difference, reader is described with afab anatomy a/n: so bucky is officially my current fictional man of the month. like i was always a loki girly, but tumblr has converted me... anyways, i really hope you enjoy :) and if you do, please feel free to like, comment, or reblog! <3 also, requests are open!

killshot - magdalena bay

“again,” bucky grunted as he got to his feet, breathless but stubborn.

the two of you were in the thunderbolts training facility, doing your daily sparring. strength wise, you were both pretty much on the same level. but, for some reason, you always seemed to come out on top. literally. it was usually you pinning him down.

you rolled your eyes from where you stood across the mat. “you sure? that’s the third time i’ve had you on your back today.”

his lips twitched. “don’t flatter yourself.”

"too late for that…" you chuckled, backing into your stance. “c’mon, grandpa.”

that got him moving.

he hated when you called him that. grandpa? sure, he was over 100 years old, but he sure didn't feel or seem like it. plus, a lot of those years he didn't even remember.

he didn't want you to think of him as too old for you.

the two of you danced in circles, boots quiet against the padded floor. it wasn’t serious, just the usual, but there was always an edge when it came to you and bucky. teasing. testing. a little too much eye contact.

he lunged. you dodged. your leg hooked around his, and with a twist and a push, he hit the mat again with a thud.

you landed straddling his hips, pinning his shoulders with your hands, grinning down at him.

“fourth time,” you said smugly. “you getting rusty, barnes?”

he didn’t answer right away. just blinked up at you with that unreadable expression, metal fingers twitching at your sides like he was debating something.

then, without warning, he moved.

in a blur of motion, he twisted under you, caught you off balance, and the next thing you knew, you were the one flat on your back. his body hovered over yours, one knee braced between your legs, hands pinning your wrists to the mat.

your breath hitched. why was that so hot?

trying to compensate for the blush creeping onto your cheeks, you scoffed, “cheap shot.”

“all’s fair,” bucky replied, his voice low. you could tell he was partially lost in thought, like he was still debating something.

you shifted under him, pretending like your pulse wasn’t hammering in your throat. “you gonna make a move, or just hover like a weirdo?”

his grip on your wrists didn’t tighten, but his gaze did… sharp, focused, like he was searching for something in your face.

“i think i just did,” he said, letting out a dry, short laugh.

your breath hitched again.

you knew what he meant.

the words hung there for a beat too long.

his eyes were bracing for rejection, like he’d already decided he could handle it.

then, breaking the silence, he gave a small smirk, “you know, i usually just let you pin me.”

you laughed, short, breathless. "oh, so you're saying you don't even try?"

"maybe i just like the view when you're on top of me."

you stared up at him, feeling like your heart stopped beating.

then you swallowed, speaking in an unsure tone. "you being serious?"

"i'm not the messing-around type. you should know that by now."

"good," you smiled, "neither am i."

his smirk turned into a grin, “so… rematch?”

you hummed, “maybe. only if you’re playing for keeps.”

then your grin turned into a smirk, your eyes darkening. "or… we could do something else."

he snickered, the challenge in his eyes shifting into something deeper, more intense. he lowered his voice, just enough for you to barely hear him.

“something else, huh?”

you nodded slowly, heart racing, the heat between you suddenly more than just from exertion. his metal fingers brushed against your jaw, light as a feather but enough to make you catch your breath.

“tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice husky, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

you swallowed, eyes looking up into his almost innocently, words barely a whisper. “right here. right now.”

he chuckled low, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

then, his lips were on yours. rough. passionate. heated.

he pulled your bodies up to a sitting position, you in his lap, straddling him.

your hands were all over each other. hungry.

“tell me if i’m moving too fast,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desire but a hint of hesitation.

you whispered against his mouth, “don’t stop.”

his lips curled into a slow smile before dipping down to kiss the sensitive skin along your neck. the roughness of his stubble mixed with the softness of his touch made your skin shiver.

you grounded your hips down on him, aiming for his growing bulge, causing him to let out a low grunt.

“i’m right here,” he murmured, voice low and whiny. “just tell me what you want.”

your hands explored the broad planes of his chest beneath his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart. your fingers curled into the fabric as you pressed closer, bouncing on his lap slowly.

"you, bucky. i want you."

he unraveled before you. his hands were on your hips, guiding your grinding to hit where he need you most just right. his face was in the crook of your neck. you could feel his quick breaths against your skin.

you whined, making yourself feel good against him. one of your hands snaked around the back his neck, moving up slowly to tangle your fingers in hair. the other moved down from his chest to his abs slowly, stopping right at his belt.

one hand remained on your hip, while the other had already unclasped your bra and pulled your shirt over your head.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and searching. “god, you're beautiful."

then his gaze softened ever so slightly, "we don’t have to rush.”

you shook your head, breathless but sure. “i don’t want to wait.”

his smirk deepened, “then let me show you how much i’ve been holding back,” he murmured, voice thick with need.

his lips found your jaw, trailing hot kisses down to your throat. you tipped your head back, giving him better access, grinding on him in a faster pace now. you tugged on his shirt, pulling it up slightly.

he chuckled as he moved his hand to pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head.

his lips went back to your neck, leaving a trail from your throat back up to your mouth, where he captured your lips in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and longing.

“fuck,” he breathed against your lips, “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

you smiled against his mouth, fingers trailing down his chest, feeling every muscle tense beneath your touch.

“then don’t hold back,” you whispered.

he grinned as his hands roamed lower, "i know you like having me on my back, but it's your turn, again."

his smirk widened as he eased you back onto the mat, hovering over you with that smug face.

“payback’s a bitch, huh?” he murmured, voice low and teasing as he brushed his lips along your jaw. “but don’t worry… i’ll make sure you enjoy every second of it.”

he slid your pants and panties down your legs, his mouth following the path of his hands, slow and deliberate, worshiping every inch of skin he revealed with eyes drinking you in like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. you were breathless under his gaze.

you tugged at his belt, fingers fumbling with need, and he let out a soft, breathless laugh, helping you shed the last of his clothes.

he captured your lips in another kiss, before pulling back to position himself in front of your entrance. "you sure about this? we can slow down."

you looked up at him, "i'm sure, bucky." your voice was confident and firm.

his jaw tensed at your words, like restraint was hanging by a thread.

“okay,” he breathed, voice husky and deep. “okay.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. his hands smoothed down your sides, grounding you, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched as he finally pushed into you.

his movement was slow, deliberate, patient…

he smiled, soft, lopsided, nothing like the usual cocky smirk. just him.

his name fell from your lips in a whisper, and he caught it with another kiss, like he’d been waiting to hear it just like that.

bucky held you like you were something precious, like every inch of you mattered. and maybe, to him, it did.

your bodies moved in rhythm. his hands mapped your body with quiet touch, no rush, just the kind of intent that said this wasn’t just want, it was care. maybe even more.

the air between you was heavy, warm, laced with the sound of shared breaths and quiet murmurs of each other’s names.

it wasn't long before you both unraveled in each other's arms, your movements halting.

your bodies laid tangled in one another. bucky let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple. “so… still think i’m getting rusty?”

you laughed, breathless and content. “nah. you’re just finally playing to win.”

he smirked, brushing sweaty strands from your face, his tone teasing but his gaze full of something much softer. “then i hope you’re ready to keep losing.”

and for once, you didn’t mind losing.

thanks so much for reading <3 requests are open

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