I- This Is The Best Thing I’ve Ever Read.

so lemme get this straight. bucky asks steve if he's "keeping the outfit", and steve decides on the spot that yes!!, he is in fact keeping the outfit, as of right now. because bucky likes it. so then steve goes out of his way to have what is essentially a padded, more functional version of his stage costume specially made, and proceeds to sneak around enemy bases in his signature stars-and-stripes outfit, in lieu of a more sensible camo uniform - or, you know, anything that wouldn't make him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the greenery - all because bucky liked it. and then bucky goes and matches him with his own fashionable blue jacket, because they're just that married. am i forgetting something

i just realized the guy that i have been in love with for the past like 3 months is probably in fact not in love with me because he hasn’t acted the same recently and his vibes are off… is mercury still in retrograde or am i just a hopeless romantic destined to loving fictional characters

stop this is like the cutest thing i’ve ever read

first name basis

in which only you can call bucky by his first name

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope ur all well <33 thank u to this request for this v fluffy fic <333 hope u guys enjoy ! sorry for any typos :P

It was quiet, the soft pattering of raindrops on the window and the city ambiance filled the Brooklyn apartment. It was somewhat empty, but Bucky had said it was just because he had just moved in. You knew he was lying.

The two of you were sat up with your backs against his headboard, scrolling through channels to find something to watch. He had an arm around you, holding you close to him. You were leaning into him, your head lightly resting on his chest.

“there’s never anything good on anymore” bucky grumbled and you smiled.

“you sound like an old man” you chuckled, taking the controller from his hand and flipping through channels, finally settling on some nature documentary about lions.

“i am 106, you know that right?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes, elbowing him lightly and causing him to groan dramatically. His antics made you elbow him even harder, laughing as he pouted at you.

“oh boohoo” you teased him, sticking your tongue out. Bucky gasped, eyes widening at your actions.

“i cant believe you” he frowned, smiling as he tackled you and caused you to fall over, he pinned your hands above your head, looking at you with soft eyes. “you’re gonna pay y/n” he smiled, peppering kisses all over your face before finally gently placing his lips onto yours.

It was a soft and tender kiss, nothing but pure love and sweetness. The kind that you smile into and blush while your lips are still connected, the kind bucky always wanted.

As the two of you pulled away he wasted no time in pulling you to his side, leaning against his headboard and letting your head rest comfortably on his chest. It was quiet, neither of you speaking and just focusing on the lions on tv, occasionally making comments about how cute the cubs were.

“your middle name is actually Buchanan?” You blurted out, causing bucky to jump a bit. He looked at you confused before nodding his head.

“yeah it is, why?” He smiled at your question as you thought silently.

“dunno, it’s just, Buchanan” you giggled and bucky blushed.

“are you making fun of my middle name?” He asked, trying his best to hold back the smile on his face and you shook your head quickly.

“no! i mean, a little bit i guess” you laughed and bucky smiled brightly at you, loving the sound of your laughter.

“i can’t believe you” bucky frowned and you pouted, moving up to kiss his jawline.

“oh angel, you know your middle name doesn’t change a thing between us” he smiled at your words, loving the way you so easily caved. “tell me your full name” you smiled at him, “wanna hear you say it” you giggled and he rolled his eyes before sighing.

“James Buchanan Barnes” he spoke, his voice smooth as he stared at you, a smile on his face when you hummed.

“James” you spoke, the name rolling off your tongue like it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Buckys heart raced, his face flushed and his stomach was in knots. “you know that’s a lot better than buchanan” you teased, craning your neck a bit to look at bucky.

“say it again” he whispered, his heartbeat in his ears as you looked at him confused.

“that your middle name is ridiculous?” you smiled and he shook his head.

“no doll, my name” his voice was soft, just above a whisper.

“James” you repeated the name, smiling at the bashful smile on his face and the way his face flushed as you spoke his name.

“‘t sounds nice when you say it” he mumbled, his face was hot and you scrambled to sit up, cupping his face with one hand and kissing his lips before speaking up.

“well, how about we toss bucky out the window and i call you james, yeah?” You suggested and he nodded, smiling at you before crashing his lips onto yours.

Bucky didn’t know what it was about it. Maybe it’s because you were the only person since steve to make him feel like himself and not like an ex assassin. Maybe it’s because you helped remind of who he was, not the winter soldier but James Barnes. Maybe it was the way you said his name and it sounded as sweet and smooth as honey. Bucky didn’t know and he didn’t really care much, he just knew he only wanted you to call him that.

“hey guys!” You smiled as you and bucky walked into the compound hand in hand, giving the team a small wave before you and bucky headed into the kitchen.

There was some big game on tonight and the team was having a watch party, everyone gathered into the living room excited as they watched some pregame stuff. You and bucky were working in the kitchen, you had offered to make dinner so you wouldn’t have to pay an absurd amount for some takeout.

The sound of the tv was quieter and you and bucky were quick to take out all the ingredients needed from the kitchen, placing them on the counter. Bucky loved helping you cook so the two of you moved easily together in the kitchen.

Sam and steve walked into the kitchen, smiling as they saw you cooking, the smell of the food in the air.

“you guys need any help?” Sam asked, looking at how easily you and bucky handed things off to each other.

“could you help set the table up? the forks and spoons are over there” you smiled and Sam nodded, grabbing the stack and handing the forks to steve. “James can you pass me some of the salt please?” You asked, not thinking twice, bucky handed it to you with no hesitation.

Steve and Sam were grounded in their spots, shock on their faces as they processed your words.

“did- did you just call him James?” Steve asked, brows furrowed at you. You smiled at him and chuckled, completely confused as to why it was such a big deal.

“yeah, why? I do it all the time” you shrugged your shoulders, bucky had a bashful grin on his face, grabbing some cups and shoving his friends away and towards the table. Steve and Sam looked at bucky as he set some cups down on the table with them.

“so they can call you James but when i do it i get a knife two inches from my face?” Sam spoke crossing his arms across his chest and frowning at his friend. Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring him and going to get more cups.

“can you tell everyone the foods ready?” You asked bucky, grabbing the plates and placing three filled with food into his arms. He smiled, kissing your temple before heading to the dining room.

“foods ready!” He called out, you could hear the team cheering as they all sat down around the table, excited to eat.

“james can you come get these please!” You called out, everyone whipping their head around to you.

“wh- James? You call him James?” Rhodey scoffed and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“well yeah that’s his name isn’t it” you laughed and he nodded quickly.

“i called you that one time and you threatened me” Rhodey spoke and bucky blushed, taking the plates from you quickly and rushing to give everyone food so they would stop talking.

“glad to know I’m not alone” Sam laughed, looked at Rhodey, natasha nodded.

“he told me to not call him that” steve frowned and you felt your face heating up.

You were the only one that called him James. You could feel your heart fluttering as you locked eyes with bucky, smile on your face when he walked over to you to get the plates for you and him.

“didn’t know you were so protective over your name buchanan” you teased and he rolled his eyes, the rest of the team already eating and talking amongst themselves after you told them to hurry and eat before the game started.

Bucky smiled and snaked his arms around your waist, leaning down and kissing you softly, the two of you smiling into the kiss before pulling away.

“only like it when you say it doll” he whispered and you blushed, heart skipping a beat as he kissed your forehead and let go of you, carrying the two plates in his hands and leaving you in the kitchen. You but your lip and smiled, following him quickly and eating with the rest of the team.

While steve and Sam cleaned the table up and tony and peppered filled the dishwasher you cuddled up with bucky on the couch, eyes closing when he ran his fingers through your hair.

“i love you” bucky mumbled and you smiled, “love you so much y/n y/l/n” he spoke, kissing the top of your head.

“and i love you so much james bucky barnes” you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before cuddling back into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

His stomach fluttered and his heart skipped a beat. Sure it had been thousands of time that you had spoken his name, calling him james in any and every tone. But everytime he found himself blushing and smiley, he found himself wanting to hear you say it again, and again and again.

Maybe it was because you helped ground him. Or maybe it was because you helped him become himself again.

As bucky looked at your breathing peacefully on his chest, drifting to sleep despite the the cheers from the rest of the team he realized why he loved hearing you say his name.

It brought him back home. And home was here, with you.

It was with you and his family as they watched a game together, huddled together and squished into three sofas.

and suddenly i wouldn’t mind being a stripper if bucky was there.

acquainted

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

word count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go you fucking–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heat pools between your legs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

me the first time i tried edibles- “i think i’m going to die”

Spicy Brownies

18+ 

High Bucky x reader 

Remember Spicy Plants ? Here’s spicy brownies. Welcome to another crack fic. 

Imagine the first time Bucky tries edibles. He knew they would hit differently than smoking but he didn’t think much would happen so he had another. Then another. He was a super solider so he’d be fine. So he had one more. 

He was fine.

He was totally and completely fine. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Y/N Y/N!!”

“Oh my GOD!”

You and Steve sat in the living room, giving each other panicked looks hearing Bucky yelling from your shared bedroom. You both sprinted to the elevator and ran down the hall, bursting through the door, unsure of what was going on. 

“What is it Buck- oh my god” 

“What the hell…” Steve blinked, slowly backing away while you cocked your head to the side, observing a very naked Bucky looking at the mirror. 

“He nakeyyyy” Bucky whispered, staring at himself in the mirror wide eyed, cupping his own cheeks in utter shock. “Y/n, there’s a naked man in our room” 

Keep reading

Oh wow. this is just. wow.

A beefy!Bucky happy trail.

That’s it.

That’s the post.

I did not ask to be attacked on this Sinday. In my house. In front of my innocent followers. Also.....NSFW thoughts below. But soft NSFW.

Rain patters against the window, creating a soft steady drum that fills the peaceful, hushed room.

All you hear is his heartbeat under your ear, his warm skin on your cheek, your hand tracing along the firm planes of his stomach. You know each scar and mole on his body, a story written on his skin, your own personal map of Bucky.

It’s been hours of the two you wrapped around each other. You never want to leave this bed, the soft linen sheets tangled around his waist, your own bare legs stretched out next to him. You giggle when you realize that he’s snagged every sheet. Again.

Bucky is a blanket hog-no matter how many duvets and sheets you layer on at night, they all end up around him-you don’t complain, he’s warm enough to make up for it.

Any protest about you needing just one sheet Bucky withering away when he draws you into his side tucking you right under his bearded chin, a heavy warm arm draped over your waist, his deep voice in your ear, all sleepy and disoriented, mumbling that you’re just too far away, bunny, c’mere, I’m cold without ya.

Today has been one of those rare lazy days. No missions, no work, no phones, you turned off them before anyone could call. No need to make excuses for why you wanna stay in, you can save that for tomorrow. Sorry Sam, no brunch today, no Scott, you can’t borrow Bucky’s arm for Cassie’s show and tell.

The rain continues to drum on the rooftop; the skies fading to cloudy azure blues and grays, the light in the room dimming, as you continue to trace your finger up and down his belly. Across the soft tawny hair trailing to his growing bulge that’s not quite hidden by the heap of sheets gathered around his legs.

The pads of your fingers find the vein running down his stomach and you press softly, grazing it with the edge of your nail. His quiet hiss draws your eyes up, past his heaving flushed chest to his face.

Oh.

Bucky is giving you that look. The one that sends you spiraling headfirst into the abyss, the one that will have you agreeing to do anything if he just keeps looking at you like that.

He’s gazing at you, love and adoration darkening his blue eyes. He always says you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

And when his blue eyes settle on your face, his breath shuddering and he stares at you, enraptured as if he could fall to his knees and worship the ground you walk on.

When he can’t keep his hands off of you for more than a minute, when he seeks you out in a room full of people, drawn to your smile, your eyes, your laugh.

When he tilts your chin up, just to get a closer look and maybe sneak a kiss or two....well you have to believe him. How can you argue with that?

“Whatchu thinkin’ about Bunny,” he enquires, voice rough, gravelly breaking the silence, his hand drifting over the small of your back. You shiver at the feel of his calloused fingers on your skin.

Pursing your lips, your playful eyes flit between his relaxed face and the tent between his legs. “You.”

A grin stretches across his face, his bearded cheeks creasing as it widens until the corners of his eyes crinkle. You trace the vein down, down, down, unhurried, hearing the small hitch in his breath as you push your hand under the sheets, keeping you from him.

Flicking them away, you lick your lips at the sight of him. Hard and throbbing, a long vein making its way to the red, swollen tip. You draw your thumb across his head, smearing drops of precum down his shaft with a twist of your wrist.

Bucky chokes out your name when you do it again, his cock twitching under your light touch. Glancing back up at him, his blue eyes nearly black with lust and need, his lips parted as he takes a deep breath in.

You preen, your giant super-soldier coming undone at your touch is well-it’s intoxicating especially when you make him groan, his hips lifting off the bed as you stroke him.

“Thinking about how much I want you inside me, stretching me until I can’t take anymore,” you confess.

“Hold on, hold on,” Bucky reaches down, his fingers closing around your wrist. “That feels too good,” he chuckles, needing you to stop because if you keep touching him the way you are, this is going to be over before he can take care of you the way you deserve.

And Bucky never lets you down.

“Get on top and use me, bunny,” he states, his hands folding behind his head. "If you can handle all this," he jokes.

You narrow your eyes at him. You can handle him, maybe. Damn, he's big. The last time he pinned you down and fucked you swore he was in your chest, unable to even scream as he pounded you. You may have passed out. Yeah, you can handle him.

You swing your leg over his large thigh, grabbing his shaft with one hand, bracing yourself as you ease down his thick cock. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling the slight burn as you take him in, your silken walls stretching around him.

It always takes a minute to get used to him, each inch makes you feel so full, soft mewls slip past your lips as he disappears inside you. Slapping your hands on his chest, you drop your head, breathing through your nose. He’s so deep, so deep, all you can feel is him.

Bucky smooths his hands up your thighs, massaging small circles with his thumbs, “take your time sweet girl, doing so good,” he praises.

You circle your hips, nails clawing at his chest at the first burst of sensations. He lets you set the pace, a slow steady rhythm that builds until you’re bouncing on him, your tits sway in front of his face, his hands running up and down and your thighs as he continues to praise you for taking him so well, fuck you feel so good bunny, you’re so tight bunny, you feel so soft, so good, that’s my girl.

Your legs burn, muscles shaking as you chase your high, you slip forward, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. You’re so close, but you can’t move fast enough, tears prick your eyes as you try. “Bucky please’-” you cry out.

“You need me, don’t you, Bunny?” he murmurs.

Bucky sits up, pulling you into his chest, your nipples brushing over his sweat-laced skin with each frantic roll of your hips. You place your hands on his back, biting down on his shoulder. All you can think is how good you feel, so good, drowning in pleasure as you let him take control. His massive arms wrap around your body as he meets your thrusts, pounding up into your fluttering walls, the bed shaking and creaking.

“Bucky, fuck, oh fuck yes right there, right-oh fuck,” you rasp out, a bead of sweat rolling your spine.

Bucky sweeps his lips across your shoulder, peppering kissing along your neck, nipping and sucking bruises on your throat, you’ll proudly wear his marks for days his steady deep pace making you cry out. His name slurred on your tongue as the spring gets tighter and tighter.

Bucky wrenches your head back, biting your throat until you whimper his tongue soothing the small marks left behind. His feral eyes roaming over your pretty face with pride. He’s not going to stop until he sees you fall apart.

“I got you, bunny. Let go for me, go on, I got you,” he grunts, his lips slotting over yours. His grip tightens when a deep thrust hits your sweet spot so hard your body goes rigid.

“There you go, cum for me, cum for me,” he chants, his needy words muffled as he deepens the kiss, the feel of his wet tongue gliding past your parted lips drives you over the edge.

You keen, a high thin sound that makes Bucky smirk, your slick walls clenching over his cock, greedily pulling him back. Your hips jerking rapidly over him as your orgasm hits you, the tight spring coiling in your belly shatters.

Bucky groans in your ear, clutching you to his warm body as he pounds into your spasming cunt. It’s too much, yet you want more, the potent pressure building again. His face buried in your neck as his thrusts become erratic, warmth spreading in your pussy as he cums, his fingers rubbing your clit, “one more, bunny, need ya to cum one more time, “breathed into your skin until you wantonly sob, your body trembling as another weaker orgasm washes you over.

“Good girl,” he pants, lifting his head up, his lips moving over your jaw. More soft kisses peppered along your skin, his mouth slotting over yours passionately, languidly until you’re dizzy.

Breaking the kiss with a pleased sigh, he leans back on the sheets, keeping you flush against him, arranging your limp body over his.

“Let’s stay like this,” he hums when you sit up. “I’ll get you cleaned up and fed in a minute, just wanna feel you wrapped around me, bunny.”

You can do that. All night if he wants.

You smile, laying back on his chest, you card your fingers through his damp hair. The sounds of the rain pelting on the rooftop fading away as you listen to his deep voice telling you how much he loves you.

that’s hot

“What, are you here for some private lessons?”

(insert obligatory flexibility pun)

…bucky eating you out while you’re reading your book to him out loud. it wasn’t a sexy book honestly, it was one that was supposed to make you think but how were you supposed to do that with his lips latched onto your swollen cunt and sucking hard

“keep talkin’ doll.” he mumbles against your wet pussy, his tongue lazily swiping up and down through your folds, slick dribbling down his chin. you clear your throat as you grip your book, knuckles almost turning white

“e-eden knelt, her pale knees becomin— fuck..!” your hips stutter as you feel two of his thick fingers slowly push inside your wet heat, groaning.

“becoming what, sweetheart?” he teases as his tongue swirls around your clit, his fingers sinking deep and slow into your pussy with each word that leaves your lips as you continue to struggle to read

me when I click on a fic tagged x reader but in the end it's an x oc (I was tricked)

EXCUSE ME????? WHAT. WHO. WHEN. WHERE. WHO TOOK MY MANS HAIR????

Just woke up to this news