#beefy!professor!bucky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has a low social media market share in South America.

#beefy!professor!bucky

pinkiebieberpie · 1 year

Text

shoutout to my bestie for giving me professor bucky idea - because that is beefy!professor!bucky 100%, to be more specific it's literature professor and he is the most romantic man you have ever met, i can picture him writing poems for you, reading you books out loud, always making you coffee in the morning before going to work... aah where can i get one?? and he looks fantastic in suits and sweaters and without clothes, obviously. he's a big boy.

bucky moodboards list

348 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Student Bucky

Shy Beefy Student Bucky x Professor Reader

No thots, just

He’s so smitten with his professor, always mesmerized with anything you say, gazing at you with heart eyes while you deliver your lectures. He could listen to you speak for hours, always finding a seat at the very front of the large hall so he doesn’t miss a word.

He’s too shy to ever raise his hand and participate which is upsetting considering he’s on of the brightest students in your class. You always toss him a soft smile when you see him, adoring the little blush that follows after; it’s even worse when you compliment his papers.

Every time he thinks about you, his mind ends up going to less than holy places and his hand finds itself down his pants. He can’t help it, thinking about your pretty body in those suits and skirts, how gorgeous you’d look spread out on your desk. You’re so brilliant and pretty and sweet and he isn’t sure how many times its been but his sheets are messy but he’s still so hard.

He almost has a heart attack when you ask if he’d like to come on board a research project your doing. Obviously he’d never say no but your doe eyes looking up at him are too much and he can only nod in response.

A few late nights and not so innocent touches later

He’s so shy, he’s not even aware of how his size engulfs you under him, all his focus set on making you feel so good, giving you all the pleasure you deserve.

“Does-does it feel good for you?” He asked timidly, biting down on his bottom lip, keeping his moans down, abs tensed from holding his body back from releasing too quickly. He can feel his cock throbbing, his orgasm already at the base of his length.

“So good baby, so so good” You moan, your arms and legs wrapped around his body, the both of you in the middle of your large bed, all clothes tossed off, nothing separating you. “Making me feel so good baby”

The pet name makes him feral as he preens, adjusting his hips so he can fuck the very depths of your soul making you see stars. He maneuvers your legs higher up on his waist, loving the way your ankles are locked around his lower back. You let your hands wander around his body, clawing at the muscles on his back, and holding onto his biceps.

“M’I doing okay?” He pants against your skin, hesitantly bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress. All you can do is moan and nod, the tip of his cock hitting that sensitive spot just right, your arousal making a creamy mess all along his veiny girthy shaft. “Yeah? M’making you feel good?”

“You’re-so-thick-oh God” You cry out between thrusts, gasping at the stretch while he blushes, keeping his face hidden from you.

“I am?”

You giggle at his shyness, kissing his temple, finding his soft sweetness endearing.

“So thick baby, cock stretching me so good”

“You like it?”

“So fucking good James”

“M’gonna cum” He whines out, his pace growing sloppy but he doesn’t want to stop, he wants this night to last (not realizing it was the first of many). You gasp when he pulls out and buries his face between your legs. He laps at your arousal, mixed with his precum, your sensitive cunt soaking his scruffy cheeks.

“Wan you to cum first” He shoves two fingers into your sopping core, thrusting and curling them till your screaming, your thighs trapping him in.

“JAMES”

“Say-say my name” He lets out a broken moan, growling when he feels your hand tug at his roots, his eyes rolling back. “You taste so good”

“You like that sweet boy? Like when I moan your name?” Your back arches off the bed as he suckles on your swollen clit, your body convulsing as pleasure consumes you. He laps up every drop you give him, not giving you a second to catch your breath; he flips you over with ease, bringing your ass all the way up and shoves his cock back in.

“F-FUCK JA-MES” you claw at the sheets while his large hands grip your hips, slamming your ass back on him to meet his thrusts, his heavy balls hitting your throbbing clit each time.

“You feel so good, don’t wanna pull out” he moaned, throwing his head back, nearly whimpering when he feels you flutter and clench around his swollen cock, your second orgasm already barrelling towards you.

“Can-can I cum in you?” He’s asking permission but he doesn’t know if he’ll have the willpower to pull out if you said no. He’s never felt so good, his cock harder and more sensitive than ever, your pussy swallowing every Inch he gives.

“Cum in me sweet boy” you slur out, letting him man handle you, getting off on how soft and sweet he is, a stark contrast to the way he fucked like an animal.

“Cum with me” he cries out, snaking his hand around to rub your clit, letting his heavy body collapse on top of you, rutting into you, letting his cock rub against your sweet spot. “M’gonna cum so much for you, fuck”

He gives you a few more harsh thrusts before he moans loudly in the back of your neck, his hands reaching out to grab something, locking with yours.

You both lay panting in a post sex haze, his warm cum making you thighs sticky. It doesn’t take long to feel him get hard inside you again, a low rumble emitting from his chest when you clench around him. He slowly drags his cock out before pushing it back in, letting his cum squirt out onto the sheets.

“Can I?” He asks softly, between gently thrusts, wrapping his arms around you when you nod, taking his time to savour your soft body wrapped around his large one. “Don’t wanna leave, you feel so good”

“We have all night baby, all night”

1K notes · View notes

gutsby · 2 months

Text

Trigger Tease

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your honeymoon from hell takes you straight to a strip club south of Madripoor, where Bucky teaches you how to give a lap dance, shoot a gun, and kill a man all in one night—and maybe agree to have his baby, too.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Oral (m! & f!receiving). Sex in a sauna. Sex in a strip club. Praise & degradation. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Double homicide. Dickriding. Beefy, mob boss Bucky hates birth control and bad men—loves babies and killing HYDRA operatives for his wife.

Descriptions of violence throughout

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, but that was no matter. What counted now was making the shot, and getting it right.

You sincerely hoped you wouldn’t fuck this up.

It was no secret that the Barnes’ bloodline was steeped in dealing, stealing, gunslinging, and laundering cash. Staggering privilege, too. From the sandy shores of Curaçao to Luxembourg and Guinea-Bissau, any living heir to the dynasty could have expected to find safe refuge and respect just about anywhere that they went. It was all but engrained in their DNA at this point.

All that is to say, Bucky had no trouble finding a foreign hideaway in a pinch. He liked the Swiss Alps the best.

After your short and sweet conversation with ‘Joey’ over the phone—HYDRA hijacking the intercom system—he and Sam and Steve had made the split-second decision to reroute the plane to Zürich, and now you were here.

72 hours into a four-day ticking time bomb and totally clueless as to how you might stave off impending death, and mitigate other casualties, the best that you could.

The stress fucking with Bucky made it worth it, though.

In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing that day, you’d found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time lately: pinned against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.

“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.

You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.

“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”

This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.

The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.

“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.

After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.

Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.

“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”

You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?

“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.

“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.

In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure all the while. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was far better sustenance to him than the whole fucking meal he’d eaten that morning.

Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.

You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.

“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

“Everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.

Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.

He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.

“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”

“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”

Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.

“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.

“Another,” you choked, not thinking.

Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.

Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.

“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.

“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”

Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.

“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.

You opted to pull at his hair instead.

Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.

“I said how many?” he pressed again.

“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.

Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt at a rapid-fire pace. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.

“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Bucky—”

“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”

Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.

He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.

Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.

“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”

But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.

Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”

“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.

Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over. Bucky soaked in your every sound, and the few tears that would inevitably spring to your eyes, like sweet nectar.

You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouth and his and pushed them past your parted lips.

“Suck,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”

You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.

That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.

He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.

“I need to fuck you now.”

Bucky’s words couldn’t have hung in the fog-infested air for more than a millisecond or two before he had you back in his arms and carried to the far end of the sauna.

At the door—or, rather, on it—with your back flush against the wood, you felt Bucky pin you in place with his hips and press his erection to that soft, cramped space between your bodies. You tightened your legs around his middle and sucked in a breath when you felt him pulse.

Then the head of his cock was circling that slick, taut ring of muscles like all hope for his future happiness lay there: right between your legs in the softest and sweetest recesses of your body he could reach. His eyes could’ve been engulfed in flames and still not betrayed a fraction of the smouldering desire that lay behind them now—he drank you in with a single look and sighed.

“Can I— do it, now?” The term ‘fucking’ swiftly lost all lustre when he was an inch from your heat and ready to press in; he just needed to be in you, a part of you, now.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You pressed your forehead to his.

Bucky ran his tip once more down your slit and had just begun to ease his hips forward when a moan snagged in his throat. He braced you firmer against the door, letting your arms drape over his shoulders, and was just about to slide his length inside of you, then—

Thump, thump, thump.

Three knocks in quick succession.

You jumped, the sudden raps reverberating up the door.

Bucky held you to him, tight, and planted a hand beside your head as if to hold the whole frame still. Then, through gritted teeth,

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Need you downstairs. Now.”

It was Sam.

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

Bucky frowned. Scratched the wood surface reflexively.

“Can it…wait?” he tried again, tone laden with a silent but pointed, ‘Is it urgent enough to drag me away from my wife when I’m less than an inch away from being seven inside her?’ Evidently, Sam got the gist, or was just keen to get him out, because he returned, quick:

“Yeah. Legal’s here.”

‘Shit’ was Bucky’s wordless expression below you.

Then a ‘Shit, shit, shit, just shoot me now’ kind of look that raised an eyebrow on your own frazzled face.

Wasn’t the arrival of Bucky’s legal team a good thing? He’d been agonizing for days, badgering Sam and Steve to no end over when they’d hear back from his retinue, and here they were. You couldn’t ask just yet, as your husband was lowering you to the floor and stepping back from the door, chest racked with a shuddering breath, but you wanted to know. You reached for a towel.

“Fine. Fuck. I’ll be right out.” As it was, Bucky had chosen to forgo the dry-off altogether and just started chucking clothes on his body, eyes roaming all over.

You turned from the sound of Sam’s retreating steps and found him moving fast, graceless—shoulders hunched, head bowed, pants wrestled almost angrily up his legs. He found his balance, barely, bracing his weight against the sink, then nearly tore the porcelain fixture off the wall with how hard he kicked it trying to get his left shoe on.

He muscled into his dress shirt and flushed bright red.

In a second, you had either side of the crisp white button-up between your hands, frowning.

“Any reason why we’re so upset?” you asked after a beat.

Bucky puffed a short breath over your head as you secured the first button. Then the next. Then the next.

“What? Apart from the fact I’m not balls deep and about to give you your fourth orgasm?” he grumbled.

You shot him a look.

“I mean it’s— not ideal, getting a visit at a time like this,” Bucky continued once he’d sufficiently contained half a smirk and could don a more serious look, “If we were getting any good news they would’ve just called.”

Hell, great news could’ve made it in an email. The whole aggregate of his legal team taking the trip from Brooklyn to Zürich meant that shit had most likely hit the fan in a big way. Bucky wasn’t thrilled to learn the ‘how’ just yet.

Instead, he cupped your cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb along its curve once you’d made it to the last button of his shirt. He started to lean in, hoping to delay the briefing downstairs with a quick diversion to your lips, but he stopped about an inch away from your face.

You’d lowered your touch, slipping it under the band of his boxers. He was still as hard as you’d felt him last.

Bucky let out a grunt when your fingertips grazed the soft tufts of hair adorning that part of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath when they sank even further.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said, voice dulcet and slow as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

Again, a sound rumbled deep inside Bucky’s chest, and the thumb resting on your cheek stirred. In fact, it had no other choice—your head was starting to move.

Descending, slowly. Sinking to the floor in front of him. Positioning yourself right above the bulge in his pants.

Now Bucky’s palm was laying flat on your head, resting light as it ever had while you drew him even closer.

“Baby—”

“Yeah?” you hummed, just then tugging him out and bringing your mouth to the swollen, leaking head. Bucky gripped a good handful of your hair and rutted his hips without meaning to, and you smiled, “Can’t have my husband showing up hard as a rock to his meeting.”

You were right. There was no way Bucky was getting rid of this wood without the help of his hand or one of your holes. And, under any set of circumstances, he would’ve much preferred the latter to the former. He groaned when you took his tip to your lips and stroked him softly.

You made remarkably quick work of the man with just a minute or two, your mouth, your hand, and a tiny bit of spit—a record-breaking feat, Bucky had thought to himself with some embarrassment. But you weren’t concerned with his stamina in the slightest, focusing instead on the ways in which you might maximize his pleasure in the same way he’d done for you. Stretching your lips, loosening your jaw, and taking him down as far and as frequently as you could manage without gagging around him, you had him good. Deep. All but aching for release as he took a firm hold of the sink behind him.

“That’s a—fuck, that’s a good…fuckin’ girl.”

You bobbed your head once or twice more, flitting your gaze to his face, and felt the warmth unload in ropes—glazing your throat and every soft, square inch of your mouth as he did. Practically flooding your tongue with his cum. Bucky groaned and made a fist in your hair.

“Baby…shit,” came the sound of disbelief under his breath when you pulled off just enough to breathe.

You were careful how you took in air; flaring your nostrils the slightest bit, feeling a twitch at the corners of your lips as you tried not to smirk. Then, with an obscene sort of precision and purpose, you gave something else a try.

You stuck your tongue out at Bucky to show him the warm, oozing load he’d just left in your mouth.

Your husband’s response was immediate: evidently, he loved nothing more than a show of himself inside you, displayed like a prize between your two rows of teeth. You watched him grit his own to suppress a moan.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed. Still reeling from his high.

Then he paused, in awe for a second, before dropping one finger to your mouth and swirling his touch along the sticky, opaque puddle resting over your tongue.

You closed your lips around him, snug, and held his gaze.

A weaker man might have come undone. Bucky just let out a breath and smiled.

“If you wanna play show-and-tell with my cum I can find someplace to put that, doll,” he said, low as ever, then,

“C’mere.”

You didn’t need the powers of telepathy to understand what he’d meant. Should’ve known better than to dip your toe in the cumplay game with a man who arguably harbored the world’s biggest breeding kink and really wanted to knock you up. The realization had you back on your feet in an instant. Having swallowed fast, pried your lips off his digit with a pop, and licked the corners of your mouth, you rose without the threat of a second thought.

Your pale yellow dress was the first thing you grabbed—the first thing Bucky tried to yank off of your body when you’d slipped it up your legs and staggered backward.

“Not happening, Barnes,” you giggled, pretending not to see him advance when you stepped back.

But Bucky had never been big on civility in times like these. He lunged forward and nearly tore the barely-zipped frock off your frame, eliciting a shriek and another arch look from you as you started toward the door.

You were amazed you made it through—your husband had had to stop to tuck his dick back in his pants before stumbling after you—but when you took off down the hall, you knew it was only a matter of time before you heard his footsteps thundering fast after your own.

The tips of your toes had just barely grazed the first step down the stairs when hands seized your hips. You yelped.

“BUCKY!”

Whether on account of your own practiced agility, or the fact that Bucky’s palms were still sticky and slick with his sweat, you managed to wrest yourself out of his grip just long enough to get a start down the stairs.

“COME HERE!” Bucky boomed loud, trying his hardest not to laugh as he chased after you.

You screamed without meaning to. Yanked your wrist out of his reach when you’d made it to the bottom of the stairs and felt your husband close the distance in quick. You tried to be firm, insistent, primed with the kind of fine and unfuckwithable attitude that signaled you meant business. You didn’t, though—the series of giggles bubbling up in your chest said as much.

You descended the last step with a hitch, almost losing your shit within a foot of the landing, when Bucky scooped you up in his arms and held on tight. His lips were at your ear in a second, breaths coming in quick.

“Hell, I’ll give you one right here, honey,” he sneered before flipping you back around to face him.

He pressed you flush to the wrought iron railing, then over it, pushing you back bit-by-bit until you had no choice but to jump and latch your legs around his hips.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t—”

“Give you a baby right now?”

“—get off of me!” You were laughing now, squirming when he nipped at the space just below your ear.

One more second and he might’ve convinced you. Your Bucky was persuasive like that, too smug and self-assured for his own good but one hell of an advocate when he wanted to be. At length, he opened his mouth to take an even bigger, teasing bite, when a voice cut in,

“Barnes.”

He stopped. You froze. Together, you reluctantly turned your heads in the direction of the sound and found a keystone conference table situated at the far end of the room—seating a dozen-odd faces with identical, muted expressions of surprise. Mild discomfort, for some.

Wild discomfort for your mother and father, you saw.

Bucky set you down and simultaneously yanked the hem of your dress back into place. Flashed a smile for the ages and snaked an arm around your waist as he started to lead you over.

“Nat! Hi,” he tried, far too casual, “Long time no see.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hard and hoped like hell your husband had remembered to zip up his pants.

The woman at the head of the table—the source of the voice you’d heard—raised a brow. One cherry-red curl from her sleek, cropped bob threatened to fall out of place as she tilted her face to regard you both. The smile Bucky proffered had done nothing to repair her glare.

Some wordless exchange passed between the two of them, and next, you felt a hand directing you to a seat across the way—Steve. Smug as ever. Smirking just then.

The empty chair beside your mother. The horror.

You were dimly aware of some introductions being made on your behalf and a round of awkward, disjointed congratulations around the table. Greetings from Nat, Sam, Steve—conceited little shit—a few you knew as Bucky’s groomsmen, a couple members of the security detail, and several more friendly, unfamiliar faces, including a smartly dressed blond named Sharon. Your husband had taken a seat by the latter at the end of the table.

“Momma.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to whisper when the attention had turned back to Natasha and other matters, but you did, “Where have you been?”

Your mother and father were perched in their chairs like prisoners. There were no shackles to be seen but an air of discomfiture and compulsion bound to their every feature. You couldn’t be sure if it was humiliation on your behalf—they had just witnessed their son-in-law promise to put a baby in you for all present to hear—or something more.

For once in your life, you hoped it was just the prudish, sex-averse tendencies of the two rendering them silent.

You tried your mother again when she hadn’t responded.

“Momma.”

“Now is not the time.”

Her voice was clipped. Abrasive.

You knew better than to test that tone another time. You sank back in your seat and let your gaze roam the table, flitting between your father and Bucky a few more times than it probably should have. Surely, your dad, who had screwed Bucky over to hell and back, obliterated your wedding, and jeopardized your lives for a few more million in his pocket would have warranted some sidelong, hateful look from your husband. A glance or a stare, certainly something to show that he knew, and hadn’t forgotten.

No—Bucky was occupied with Sharon at the moment.

You watched your father twist his signet ring on his pinky, jerking the gold back and forth as if hoping for it to break, or save him. He didn’t look at Bucky, either.

“Natasha Romanoff is the Barnes’ retained legal talent for all things maritime crime and narcotics trade-related. Some estate planning, too,” a voice rumbled beside you.

You made a low ‘Hm’ to feign understanding of whatever the fuck Steve had just said, and nodded.

Then, when your eyes wandered left again,

“Sharon Carter, criminal liaison and kingpin informant. Been in bed with the Barnes’ as long as I can remember.”

He really couldn’t have used a worse string of words if he had tried. You cocked your head just slightly and stared at the pair. You considered holding your tongue.

“And she’s been in bed with Bucky how often before?” You’d decided against self-restraint for the time being.

Steve blinked a little harder.

“What do y—”

“I’m not asking if, but when, they fucked,” you interrupted.

Steve blinked again, as if to clear a string of cobwebs from his eyes, and couldn’t quite find the words to answer your question. Either the truth or some half-baked crock of bullshit—there was no in between.

“Once,” he answered, at length. Honest.

You figured as much.

In any other situation where you were faced with one of Bucky’s former fuckbuddies, you probably would’ve felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Might’ve even cast a dark look in the girl’s direction and willed her not to even breathe the same air as him. Then you remembered you weren’t fourteen years old and could behave with some modicum of maturity when it came to some old flame of your husband. They weren’t even sitting that close.

You winced when Bucky gave her shoulder a playful squeeze, though. That facial tic you couldn’t control.

“So to recap,” Natasha announced, having just plodded through a few dull formalities up front, “Barnes got the intercom call from Schröder at 1500 hours, Friday.”

Every head nodded.

“Schröder gave Barnes exactly ninety-six hours to recover the $90 million lost in the…mishap, in Brooklyn—” Natasha’s eyes flickered to your father no longer than a second, “—and today is Monday. We have twenty-four hours to come up with the funds, or face the…penalties of Schröder’s exploding offer. Whatever those may be.”

You knew what ‘those’ were. Ms. Romanoff was either too kind or too diplomatic to say it, you reckoned, but the threat Joey Schröder had made to Bucky had been patently clear: procure the cash or your wife’s family dies.

That was why you’d been so surprised to see your mother and father seated at the table that morning—Schröder had further stipulated that there was to be no contact between you and your parents in the time it took to come up with the money. You’d been completely cut off, in the Alps, since the day of the attack, left to wonder without reprieve whether HYDRA’s bloodless henchmen had taken hostages of your parents, let them abscond to Brooklyn, or simply killed them both and sent the rest of you all on a wild goose chase to get hold of the money.

Now if they’d only had sex once, why was she looking at him like that?—The intruding thought couldn’t be helped when you peered over again—Surely the most platonic and professional working relationships didn’t call for looks like that.

Shut the fuck up. Shut the entire fuck up, please.

The lives of those closest to you were on the line and all you could think now was how well you compared to this random woman in giving Bucky head? Brain fucking rot.

You scrunched your nose and turned back to Natasha.

“…and up until this morning, Schröder’s whereabouts were unknown,” she continued, careful as she spoke.

It seemed that part had caught Bucky’s attention, too, because he was tilting his head away from Sharon and shifting his gaze to the woman at the head of the table.

“And now?” he cut in.

“I’m getting there, James.”

Sharon smiled a little at that, tracing her nail on the notepad in front of her. She muttered something to Bucky, who disregarded her remark entirely.

“Do we know where Schröder is?” he barked.

Across the table, Sam shifted in his seat. He glanced to Natasha, then Sharon.

“I believe we have modestly reliable intel—” he began, only to have his speech mowed over by an impatient, increasingly irate Bucky.

“No. No— we don’t do ‘modestly reliable’ for this, Sam. We either know where the fuck the guy is or we don’t.”

That last fragment seemed to hang in the air a couple seconds longer than needed, and a tense silence fell over the table. It took a new voice—one you hadn’t heard much at all yourself—to reignite the conversation.

“I know it,” Sharon said, “I know he’s in Madripoor.”

Madripoor? The make-believe safe haven for terrorists? You couldn’t tell if she was kidding at first. Then Bucky flitted a look to the side, and his expression was grave. Natasha’s, too. Maybe there was a Madripoor after all.

“Or he will be there, most likely, tomorrow night,” Steve interjected. The hands that had been folded neatly in front of him were now tapping a light and mindless beat on the table, “He’s got the Foxy Den rented out for a…thing.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Where else but a titty bar would Joey host his ‘things’?” he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

So Madripoor was real, and it had strip clubs. Wonderful.

It seemed Natasha was keen to regain control of the conversation, because she presently broke in,

“Keep in mind that time is of the essence—a private flight from here to the Indonesian archipelago is sixteen hours minimum. We most likely can’t afford to fly private, b—”

“Since when the fuck can’t I afford to fly private?” Bucky spat.

You hated how short and plainly nasty he was being to all those around him. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought these folks were at fault somehow, but they weren’t. Your father, the real culprit, was sitting right under Bucky’s nose, and he wouldn’t even look in his general direction. Your husband flared his nostrils with a new surge of indignation, and Sharon patted his hand.

“She’s not talking finances, bub,” the blond started, “She’s saying your jet is on a no-fly list, we don’t have time to charter a new plane, and there’s a hefty fucking bounty on your head if you ever set foot in Madripoor. We need to get you on a commercial flight, undercover.”

“Fuck that.” Bucky’s response was reflexive. He rose fast.

If your parents could have appeared any more stiff and uncomfortable you might have mistaken them for two charming, thoroughly terrified wax figures. Your father continued to fiddle with his ring as he watched Bucky.

Natasha tensed as well. As soon as Bucky was up on his feet, pacing around at the end of the table, she was urging him to relax, Buck, this isn’t anything we haven’t done before—sit down, please. Bucky didn’t sit, and he most certainly didn’t relax, but he did kick a stool across the room.

“I am not going back to that shithole.”

The stool tumbled onto its side, one leg splintered in half. You made a mental note to look into some anger management classes. Your parents, along with most of the table, flinched at the crashing sound, while your husband stood, supremely agitated, and did not even regard the broken chair. He turned away from Natasha.

“Yeah, well, that ‘shithole’ is our only hope of getting Schröder behind bars and you out of custody, Bucky,” Natasha called as he started to pace away.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. He contemplated snagging a bottle of Macallan 25 off the bar cart by the window but decided against it.

“Have you been listening to a word of what I’ve said all weekend?” Natasha returned, almost as biting, “Turned on MSNBC or CNN or any other news outlet in the last forty-eighty hours?”

She dropped her own notepad on the table and scanned the area in search of something else. Sam and Steve took that as their opportunity to jump in.

“Bucky,” Sam started, calmly, “There were over a dozen foreign attachés and two heads of State at your wedding, half of whom are now being hospitalized for injuries they sustained in the attack.”

“So?” Bucky snapped.

His eyes were already trailing back to the cart.

“So you think the U.N. Security Council was just gonna let that slide?”

“Two-thirds of its members have been up in arms, practically chomping at the bit to get someone pinned for the fucking thing—that leaves you or Schröder on the chopping block,” Steve chimed in.

“So one more federal probe. What’s the big deal?” Bucky hardly realized he’d taken a tumbler in his hands.

Just as he’d turned to pour himself a drink, guided more by bare muscle memory than anything else, Natasha raised a manila folder—the item she’d been looking for. He’d filled his glass half full when the folder was flung his way like a frisbee. He narrowly saved himself a papercut—or ten—by ducking his head, almost spilling his drink.

“The fuck, Nat?!” he bellowed.

“Extradition, Bucky. Search warrants for your Brooklyn residence, all your money service businesses up the Eastern Seaboard, and a whole hell of a lot of other financial records that we do not need dredged up in this mess.” Natasha pointed to the folder on the floor, which had just spilled a litany of documents at his feet.

“Let them.” Bucky wasn’t fazed by the warrants, walking over them as he drank, “I’m not going to Madripoor."

This time, it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes as she swiveled in her chair to face Bucky. She was turned from you now, but you could almost smell the smug, knowing look she raked over your husband as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back.

"We don't have time for this," she said, coolly, "If you have any hopes of getting the Counter-Terrorism Committee off your ass and Schröder in custody, you'll listen to Nat."

Bucky paused, weighing her words in his mind before meeting her gaze again. He brought his glass to his lips and drained it.

Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by the idea that she was the only one to have shut Bucky up—to have made him listen, as it were—Sharon piped up again. You didn't need to see her face to know for certain there was a smirk etched across it,

"Don't look so glum, honey. We have no choice here."

It startled every last soul at that table, yourself included and Sharon especially, when the cup in Bucky's hand sailed across the room and shattered on the edge of a cabinet close by. Before the glass had so much as splintered and scattered half of its jagged shards along the floor, your husband was stalking, then stopping, then looming over Sharon with an implacably dour look. And a jaw set tight as you'd ever seen it.

"My choice," he seethed, so low the words almost came out in a murmur, "is to protect my wife. Whatever you, or Natasha, or anyone else has in mind comes second to that. Do you understand?"

Sharon nodded that she did.

A hushed silence fell over the room once more, only now its duration was greater, and the cause of it—your red-faced, fuming husband—had turned his back to the group and was retrieving from the bar cart another glass. Another drink. Natasha followed his path with a vigilant eye.

"Bucky," she said.

Bucky didn't answer. Filled his new glass to the brim.

"Bucky," Natasha tried with a little more volume and vigor.

Your husband lifted the cup to his mouth and started to guzzle, against every shrill and helpless plea from his liver, you guessed. You wanted to object, to take leave of your seat as quick as you could and knock the thing out of his hand before he could finish, but Natasha had you beat—not with any physical act but a word to slow him down: "Barnes."

Then, a few more to get him to stop entirely:

"Look. Over there."

She pointed to a slip of paper somewhere at the top of the shuffle.

Bucky shifted his gaze to the floor. You saw him lick both corners of his mouth, bathed in whiskey residuum and a light, nascent spatter of stubble. He looked almost menacing in spite of the grin that kicked up.

"What's this?" he murmured.

"The terms of Schröder's newest offer. The one he made this morning."

Bucky's second glass was discarded in an instant.

He dropped to his knees, seized the paper in his hands and pored over the bare, 11-point Times New Roman typeface like it was the single most precious set of words in the world to him. There were several mountains of text, and you sensed he couldn't begin to under the legal jargon with just one cursory look.

"What? What's'it mean?" Bucky wouldn't tear his gaze away, even as he shouted to Natasha.

Your own eyes probably should've been fixed on Bucky, or in your lap, or out the window, reflecting in silence on what the fuck could be going on and why it felt as though things were suddenly coming to a perilous head. Instead, you pivoted to Natasha. Her face was tilted to you.

Then she spoke to Bucky, still crouched on the floor a few feet away from her, but she kept her focus on you. She spoke carefully.

"Schröder won't take the money, Bucky."

"What?"

Bucky's gaze combed over the page, desperate to make sense of what was printed in front of him—"The hell's this all mean, Nat, tell me what it means and what he wants, for fuck's sake."—and he flipped the document. Read some more. His eyes flitted from line to line in a full-blown terror.

Then the eyes stopped in one spot.

Bucky stood.

Fisting the letter in one hand and making a wild, inarticulate gesture with the other, he probably could've seared a hole in Natasha's head with the force of his stare. She refused to meet it.

"This is a joke, isn't it?"

All of a sudden, your father leaned over your mother to you,

"We can make it work. We can keep you—"

"Hey. Don't talk to her. Don't fuckin' look at her. Is this—"

"—safe. We'll keep you safe, darling, I swear."

"—some kind of sick fucking joke?!"

You stared at your dad in disbelief. Bewilderment. Then you chanced a look at Bucky, who had all but gone blue in the face as he approached your father from the opposite end of the table, letter still crushed in his hand.

Your father averted his gaze.

He knew.

You saw him flick the gold signet on his pinky once more, and for reasons you didn't yet understand yourself, you couldn't look away from it, or him.

Surely this scared-shitless son of a bitch could speak to you now. He'd have to. There was no way he wouldn't when the problem was staring him right in the face and his son-in-law was practically apoplectic with rage in front of him.

Something clicked in Bucky's brain.

He knew.

Your husband’s breath caught with the full weight of the realization, and he blinked. He didn’t hesitate; he simply sidestepped Sam and Steve—who had stood as soon as they saw the look of understanding cross over his face—and he seized your father. You heard a scream, most likely from your mother, and you saw Bucky swing, but the act barely registered as real until his fist first cracked against your dad’s skull. Again. And again. And again.

Somewhere in the raucous din and sounds of punches, kicks, and muffled groans, a discharge of blood, and the dim recognition that some of the stuff was dousing you, too, you managed to make out several words, disjointed:

“—FUCKING KILL YOU—SOLD HER—SOLD HER?!”

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, it was true, but it was an alter-ego he’d been given from his earliest days as a made man. A caricature of himself that was to represent everything he did and was capable of doing in places like Madripoor.

You didn’t know that side. You didn’t like that side.

It was Bucky, and it wasn’t—pummeling your father’s face in the ground after learning that he had offered you up, again, in satisfaction of a debt. Sparing no feelings when he spoke to Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sharon, or anyone, making clear his wife’s safety was paramount.

Maybe you were meant to feel proud. Or flattered. Or safe. But oddly, the longer you’d stared at the bloodied, bruised fist he held above your father’s face and the half-deranged look of anger on his own, the more you began to wonder if the fury was for your protection, or simply a knee-jerk response to the thought of losing a possession. A mere object that he couldn’t bear to part ways with.

You had thought long and hard about where the Soldier stopped and Bucky began. No matter where you landed, you were far from comfortable with the conclusion.

Now, even as you stood two feet away from the man in an upper-level lounge of the Foxy Den, roughly half a day removed from the whirlwind turn of events that almost sent your father to hospital, you hardly knew what to say.

“Zip me up?”

The closest thing you’d had to conversation in hours. Bucky obliged.

You viewed your new dress in the mirror from the side and made a face. Pretended to examine the tight black number but were really just zeroing in on the sight of Bucky’s knuckles as he dragged the zip up your back. He hadn’t bothered to mend his hands, and you hadn’t thought to offer to bandage them up. You tried not to stare.

The hands paused at the top of your dress and froze.

Then crept back slowly, taking the zip along with it.

“Wanna—?”

“Bucky!”

One low groan, followed by a palm to his worn and wearied face. When you spun around, he didn’t move.

“Are you serious?” you bit.

“Will you talk to me now?” Bucky retorted.

To be fair, neither he nor his Winter Soldier persona knew how to solve the silent treatment from a pissed-off wife. This was brand new territory—being ignored for hours on end—and frankly, he had thought a playful request for sex might make you more amenable to conversation.

He had thought wrong.

You stared daggers at his handsome face and raised a finger as though to warn him, then stopped. Opened your mouth as if to speak, then appeared to decide against it. A steady, pulsing bass from the floors below was all that could be heard, and momentarily, you were reminded of why you were all here in the first place:

Locate Schröder. Corner Schröder. Capture Schröder. Bring the bad man to justice—or else just pump the motherfucker’s head full of lead and be done with it.

You weren’t too familiar with the particulars of the plan, but that had seemed to be the heart of it. Bucky never intended for you to stray from the safety of the lounge upstairs, where half of his team were casing the club through dozens of surveillance cameras, and he would likely take off with Sam and Steve the second you’d finished dressing. Now would be the time to talk.

And you planned to. Eventually.

For now, though, you’d let him sweat it out.

You had long envied women with effortless sex appeal and charisma. The kind that seemed to be made for the stage, capable of transfixing any audience, or individual, with little more than their aura alone. You’d never felt a fraction of that allure emanate from yourself before, personally, but looking at Bucky now brought you as close as you’d ever been. He was enthralled by your every move, he was intrigued at all times, you could see.

He was visibly aroused before you had even touched him. You knew it was cruel and unkind before you were even fully conscious of what you were doing, but you did it.

Someone had to teach this man how to control his anger—and his urges—somehow. Who better than you?

You drew closer to Bucky until your fronts almost touched.

“Baby,” you murmured. Simple, nearly plaintive.

Bucky blanched. Could it be? Had his bullshit gambit actually paid off and made you want to talk, or possibly do more? His hands immediately went for your hips, but you were quick to shove them off. You poked one finger to his chest and shook your head.

“We can talk,” you said, measured.

You pressed into his sternum and pretended not to see a short-lived look of defeat, followed by confusion, cross Bucky’s features. He let you walk him back a step or two.

“Okay. What about?”

Where the hell could you even begin?

“Sit first,” you urged him.

It was then that he realized you’d been walking him toward the plush sectional couch behind him—a cozy little touch to the VIP room only marginally diminished by the fact that it was coated in liquor, coke, and glitter. Bucky sat down anyway.

You didn’t follow, choosing instead to stand as you appeared to…scratch something on your back? Your husband looked on in muted curiosity as you reached behind yourself and tilted your torso just slightly.

Then he heard a zip. A hitch. Another, longer drag.

Bucky knew he was fucked before you ever slipped the dress off your body. You were to make quick work of it, eyes never leaving the man in front of you as you peeled the fabric down your legs and off of your frame entirely. When you were down to just your underwear, you hadn’t even needed to see his face to know exactly where his gaze was likely to land—this part was new to him. You kicked the dress aside and let him stare.

To be fair, it wasn’t every day he got to see a Ruger LC9 strapped to your thigh. Hidden in plain sight now that you were stripped bare before him in just your bra, panties, and garter-like holster across the top of your leg.

“Where’d you get that?” Bucky nearly choked, eyes wide.

“TJ Maxx,” you huffed, “Where the fuck do you think?”

“I never said you could— And Sam and Steve—”

Bucky paused, suddenly aware of how indignant and stupid he was starting to sound. He had given orders to the rest of his team not to let you carry a gun under any circumstances, but here you were. If he weren’t so violently aroused by the sight of you wearing the thing, he probably would’ve been fuming.

“A couple guys from your security detail were kind enough to make an exception,” you smiled, words verging on smug, “And who’s to say what I ‘can’ and ‘can’t’ do, hm?”

Bucky looked as though he were priming himself to stand when you lifted one stiletto to rest between his legs on the seat. A silent and quasi-sweet threat in one gesture.

“I didn’t say you can’t— well—” Bucky faltered at the last.

“You just said you never gave me permission!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “That doesn’t sound very equitable to me, James.”

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh of his own.

“C’mon. You know what I mean, honey…I just…want to keep you safe. You know that.”

“Self-defense is a pretty integral part of safety.”

“No one’s ever taught you to shoot!”

“You never bothered to ask!”

This was getting a little too aggressive and Jerry Springer-eqsue for your liking. Not nearly sexy or seductive enough to be heading in the direction you wanted. Bucky always brought the bickering out of you, but you had to stay strong. Slow and steady and all that bullshit.

So, before he could respond to your last remark, you lowered yourself over him. Brought both legs to bracket his hips and hovered carefully in place above the bulge in his tactical pants. When he swallowed beneath you and raked his gaze over your body, you felt a twinge of relief.

You sank further down. Dragged your lower half over his own and earned a groan from deep within his throat. Again, his hands flew to your waist to get a good grip, but you pried them off before they could ever fully sink into the flesh.

“What?” Impatience palpable in Bucky’s tone.

“No,” you answered simply.

“No?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me. You don’t own me.”

Your husband shifted under your body, hands helpless at his sides and masseter muscle visibly clenching beneath the skin as he gritted his teeth. He shook his head.

“I never said that I did,” he managed, after a pause, “Baby, I love you.”

“And beating the shit out of my dad was your special way of showing that?”

“That wasn’t—”

“Or snapping at Natasha. And Sam. Steve. Sharon,” you added emphasis to the last name without really meaning to, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I…lost my temper, I—”

“Couldn’t control your anger. Or wouldn’t. All because my dad made some stupid deal with a man and offered me up as collateral.”

“Because Joey wants you for himself!” Bucky snapped, voice suddenly raised to a near-deafening pitch. He shifted his hips and inadvertently grazed the heat between your legs, drawing a subtle pinch in his brow at the friction, “The deal your dad made was to give you over to Schröder in satisfaction of his own fucking debt—you think I was just gonna sit by and let that happen?!”

In spite of the animosity, you pressed your body to his even harder and watched him fold—if only slightly. He breathed a sharp inhale through his nose and flexed both his hands, as if wanting to make fists. However, he knew better than to move himself around at a time like this.

“What? Like the deal you made with him?”

Your words were clipped, almost cruel. You knew it would hit a nerve in Bucky, and sure enough, he met you right where you wanted him: enraged.

“That’s fucking different,” he seethed, “I would’ve paid your father’s debt without— without anything in it for me.”

“But you didn’t, and you got me.”

“And I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

The abrupt vulnerability in his voice was all but agony to hear. For a second, it seemed the anger had fled—or at least been eclipsed by some softer, sweeter shade—only for Bucky to blink again, shake his head, and wear that stupid, hardened look that said, ‘I am not losing this.’ Your hands reached for his belt and started in on the zip.

“You have a real fucked up way of showing love, James.”

To your surprise, Bucky let you continue, unhindered. Blue eyes meeting yours in a cold look.

“Makes two of us,” he mumbled, shrugging his boxers and trousers out of the way anyway.

That was probably true. No person in their right mind would think fucking their husband was the safest, most surefire way to let him know they were pissed at him, but both you and Bucky were working on communication skills, still. You’d get to healthy, non-sex-fueled fights at some point.

As it was, Bucky was fumbling around your thighs, trying to pry them open even wider for better access through your panties. That you allowed, but the second he tried manhandling you over his crotch, you pushed back.

“I wanna do this— without your help,” you said, firm.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Bucky agreed. He let you line yourself up with his length, brace your weight against his shoulders, and when you paused, he made a soft, ‘Hm?’ and glanced down where you looked. Before you could remove the pistol from its holster, he set his palm atop the cool metal.

“Leave it,” he murmured.

His eyes flashed with desire. It was almost more than you could bear, despite the plain fact that riding someone with a firearm strapped to your thigh probably violated every NRA gun safety rule known to man. Whatever.

You lowered yourself onto Bucky, slow, and sucked in a quick breath as he filled you. Your husband groaned.

“Fuck,” followed shortly thereafter, almost timid to crawl out of his mouth as you sank to a fully-seated position on top of him. He gripped the armrest beside him.

When your hips first stirred, you thought the man might burst a blood vessel trying not to move right along with you. You pressed a hand to his chest and reminded him, gently but with purpose: let me fucking do this, Bucky, and he relented. Fisting the couch cushion in something close to a death grip, he nodded his head and heaved a short breath and watched you all the while, grinding on him.

“My pretty…pretty girl,” he managed through his teeth.

He was doing better than you expected. You watched his face contort with pleasure when you lifted yourself up to the tip of his cock and slide back down. You squeezed his shoulders, and you let out a low whimper yourself, and dammit all, you felt that pesky fucking knot already forming in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down and frowned, wanting this to last so much longer.

Fortunately, when your eyes found Bucky’s again, you got the sense that he was in the same boat as you: brow furrowed tight in concentration and lips parted slightly, panting in time with each one of your movements.

“Baby,” he said, the single word treading close to a plea. He paused, dropped a glance to the spot where your bodies were coupled, and swallowed. He cursed aloud, then continued, quietly, “Baby…’m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You bounced a bit faster.

“For— fuckin’ hell, honey— for being a…dick.” The last part of his sentence was pierced by a grunt and a moan, but you heard it just the same.

You clenched around him and tried to keep steady. Manage a small, shit-eating grin above him, even.

“Being a dick?” you repeated, pretending not to know what he meant. When his cock grazed over a particularly sensitive place inside you, you just swallowed the moan and kept going, fingers taking hold of some short tufts of hair at the back of Bucky’s head as you rode him.

“Possessive. Controlling. Kind of a—” Bucky paused to grunt when he bottomed out inside, hands aching to hold you, “—piece of shit.”

Finally, you were getting somewhere. Not nearly close enough to cure the rage or the dark, grating impulses churning inside of him, but good enough, for now.

You reached for his hands and set them over your hips.

The next most natural thing was to lean down and kiss him—let his tongue invade your mouth as soon as he’d caught your lips and show you, with a wordless and fast-moving show of affection, that he missed you. And meant what he’d said. With his hands moving quick to cup your cheeks, hold you to him while he kissed you and stroked deep inside your walls, he gripped you tighter than he had in a while. You could feel strips of tension and desperation bleed through his every fingertip.

“Wanna…fuckin’ kill anyone who even thinks…of— fuck,” Bucky’s words were almost slurred at this point, so close to the point of release it seemed every wild and wanton thought that crossed his mind was likely to dance off his tongue, unchecked. You loved to see him in it this deep.

You also had to remind the murderous alter ego that violence was not the answer…always. You let him pull you closer, bodies pressed flush against each other while you fucked, but you made sure to tilt his chin up to yours so he could see the expression on your face as you spoke.

“Hey,” you pinned him with one stern look, “No murder.”

Bucky frowned.

“Yes murder,” he retorted.

You sighed.

This shit was worse than teaching a dog not to bite.

Instead of pulling back or being strict this time, though, you decided you’d give positive reinforcement a try. You squeezed his short locks of hair, gently, and rolled your hips even tighter to his, eliciting a stuttered groan. You bounced up and down on his cock, pulled him into your chest, and brought your face within an inch of his.

“Promise to be good, and I’ll let you cum inside me,” you murmured into his lips. Not the wisest offer you’d made to date, but one that Bucky seemed to want more than the air in his lungs the second the words escaped you. He pulled you in for a kiss, immediately.

“Fuck, you mean it?” he breathed, in between each sloppy, frenzied movement of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you tried not to grin at how eager he seemed, “You’re gonna apologize to everyone, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky barely seemed to register anyone or anything but you and your pussy at the moment, yearning for the go-ahead to let himself free inside you. With a nod of your head, you’d let him start meeting your motions with gentle thrusts of his own, and both of you were teetering precariously close to the edge with that added pressure. In spite of both your hot and heady, near-anoetic states, you endeavored to hold out a little longer, legs aching.

“Gonna try and talk to Schröder first?” you panted.

Bucky rutted into you hard, lips twitching into a frown.

“Doesn’t…deserve it,” he grunted, barely able to get the words out as he grabbed your hips and thrusted harder, “A fucking bullet between the eyes is what he needs.”

You eyed him soberly, or as serious as you could manage with the force of his strokes nearly sending you into a spiral. You fought back a moan and gripped him tighter.

“Bucky.”

“Bunny.”

Damn, that name.

“Promise me you won’t kill him—or anyone—tonight.”

“Baby—”

“Promise.”

His thrusts were getting sloppier; with his hands hoisting you just above him and his cock practically drilling into you now, speech and coherent thought were some of the toughest things to accomplish, but he tried it, anyway. Bucky would swallow his pride and accede to his wife, no matter how fucking badly he wanted to cum—and kill that Russian mob boss with both his bare, bloody hands.

He could be better than the Winter Soldier. He would.

With a rough, labored breath, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss and felt you squeeze around his cock like a vice. Still thrusting, clutching you, kissing you hard, he saw both of your releases coming in fast and had to act even quicker.

“I— I promise,” he stammered.

That was all either of you needed, or could bear, quite frankly. In the next second or two, you felt a cord snap in your lower half and a deep, punchy flurry of pleasure follow shortly thereafter, fingers sinking deep in Bucky’s shoulders as he bounced you on his cock and held you close. With your walls still pulsing around him, you felt him chase his own high at a breakneck pace, shooting his load inside you a moment later. It was bad, it was brash, it was a really fucking dumb idea to be playing around with the odds of making babies at a time like this, but it also felt good. Exhilarating, even, feeling him empty his balls in that space between your wet, aching walls and filling you up with his seed.

Maybe just one little mini-Bucky wouldn’t—

STOP.

You barely had the energy to acknowledge, much less arbitrate that bone-crushing conflict between your brain and reproductive organs, so you shut the thoughts up with a quick, messy kiss to Bucky, whose chest was still heaving from the peak of his release, holding you to him.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Maybe even two—

FUCK YOU.

The internal war wouldn’t go away that easy, it seemed.

You kissed Bucky long and hard regardless, hoping the shit would sort itself out before you really had to think. Or worry. Or plan. It was dumb and a bit short-sighted, but feeling that hot, erratic pulse between your legs did a pretty good job of making it seem just fine for right now.

Bucky’s expression was lax. Soaking in the feel of your cum-painted insides still squeezing around him, gently. Had he been anywhere but the heart of Low Town on a covert mission in a strip club, hunting down the head of HYDRA with a whole troupe of trained assassins, he probably would’ve liked to stay that way a little longer. But, as it was, he could already hear folks filing in and out of the lounge, footfalls growing heavier as his team loaded up with guns, grenades, and whatever other weapons they could fit beneath their formal attire.

“Don’t look so sad,” you said as you lifted off of Bucky. Carefully pulling your panties back into place as your husband watched you do it, practically forlorn.

“Too late,” he returned in half a groan, yanking his own clothes where they needed to be and trailing a look up your legs, “Might feel better if we tried it again, though.”

“I bet.” You pulled your dress over your head.

Your husband had just tightened his belt and was rolling his shoulders to get a knot out of his neck, it seemed.

“What are your thoughts on ‘Bucky Jr.’?” he asked casually.

“Don’t start with this shit.”

“Jamie for a girl, maybe?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your baby talk and death threat tête-à-tête continued for quite some time—just a couple minutes, but they felt like years to you—and before long, you were rubbing the gun under your dress and casting a glare in Bucky’s direction, and he got the sense that it was time to head back to the group. He looped an arm around your waist and led you out into the main space.

The living room was little more than a makeshift headquarters at that point. You’d been expecting to see more faces, but the only ones you found were Sam, Natasha, and a few silent, beefy individuals you assumed were part of security. Where Sharon and your parents had gotten off to was anyone’s guess. You took a seat on the couch.

“Anything yet?” Bucky questioned, approaching the panel of surveillance screens with a wary eye.

“We’ve had intermittent visuals on the second floor for forty minutes or so—” Sam motioned to one screen on the left, “—but Schröder hasn’t moved. Hasn’t done anything but bullshit and booze and buy rounds for his group. Won’t even talk to the dancers, which is weird.”

From what you’d been told, the goal was to get Schröder off the second floor, up to one particular private suite on fourth, then send in an agent dressed as a bottle girl to make entry as soon as the rest of the party had arrived, keeping in contact with HQ, and Sam, via PTT earpiece all the while. The details from that point were hazy, but you’d gotten the sense that someone—or, more likely, a sizable and duly-equipped group of someones—was lying in wait somewhere in the suites surrounding them. Steve had been tasked with leading the incursion, though where he could be found, or whom he was with, remained largely a mystery to you. Recon in a bustling, crowded area with music blaring on all four sides was a formidable undertaking, and you could tell both Sam and Natasha had been having trouble keeping tabs on every player. They seemed on edge, monitoring the screens.

“Won’t talk to the dancers?” Bucky’s brow pinched in.

“Won’t talk to anyone outside of his inner circle,” Natasha said, grim, “Which leads me to think he’s not staying here long. Probably called his associates in for a speedy-quick deal because he knows he’s being tailed.”

“Hasn’t engaged with any of our undercovers?” Bucky pressed.

Natasha and Sam shook their heads. Your husband groaned.

“Then how the hell are we getting him upstairs to the champagne room? If he hasn’t budged and doesn’t look like he’s planning to stay?”

The looks on the faces in front of him said there wasn’t one readily available answer—or any answer at all. Bucky turned back to the screens and seemed to survey the whole panel, gaze cooling with the first inkling that this operation may be classed a failure in the very near future.

He barked some half-coherent babble about strategy, security, and failsafes, then barked for Steve.

And, as if on cue, Steve appeared at the threshold of the room a moment later, breathless and slightly flushed.

“Rogers, you’re suppos—” Sam started, eyes widening at something you couldn’t quite discern from his arrival.

“I know, I know,” Steve cut in, fast, “Want the good news or bad news fir—”

“Just spit it out,” Natasha said, preemptively unnerved.

“Schröder’s headed to the suite right now—”

Bucky raised both eyebrows at Steve as he continued.

“—but they won’t let Wanda in.”

‘Fuck’ was the first audible word from your husband, then Sam, in short order. Wanda must have been the agent playing bottle girl upstairs. This didn’t sound good.

“Why the fuck won’t they let her in?” Bucky snapped.

“Someone might’ve tipped his security off. Or else they’re just being extra cautious about who’s let in.”

Steve fiddled with one cufflink on his suit and tried not to appear too despondent, but the implications of this single event were huge, you could read on every face in the room. Wanda had been meant to do something important before the rest of the brigade mobilized—take some key step that couldn’t be omitted from the plan.

“So we retreat.” Natasha was not one to mince her words, per usual, “Get your guys out of the suites now.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said, sharply, “We’re not doing that.”

“Bucky.”

“We’ll get someone in there. We’ll find another way.”

Your husband was already pacing the space in front of you, and you looked on with uncertain eyes. You chanced a look to Natasha, Sam, and Steve, all of whom shared similar, albeit slightly more wearied, expressions as they watched and murmured among themselves.

“None of our people are getting up there, Barnes. Schröder’s got a goddamn sixth sense about our agents or something,” Steve said, at length.

“They’re all in masks—for a fucking masquerade—and we can’t get one person in?! In-and-out, that’s all it needs to be,” Bucky growled.

“We can’t get in there, that’s the point,” Sam sighed, “Masks or no masks, they know our people too well and won’t let us through.”

“We can at least try, for Christ’s sake. That’s what we came this whole fuckin’ way to do, right?”

When no one said a word in response, Bucky scowled,

“Right?”

There was a lull in the conversation that seemed to last for minutes, when, in reality, couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen seconds. Tensions were high. You could tell from the look in Bucky’s eye he was trying not to lash out as he normally would, but in no time at all, you saw a fractional break in his resolve. You feared he might fly off the handle, or else compromise something that couldn’t be spared at a time like this. You swallowed.

“I’ll go.”

It was stupid.

Every face turned to regard you as if you were stupid, you assumed as soon as the words had left your mouth.

But then, much to your surprise, Steve was perking up, eyes suddenly brighter as his gaze tilted to you.

“She could,” he said, shortly.

“Should she?” Sam seemed to murmur at once.

“Sure, why not?”

“I can think of plenty reasons why not,” Natasha was quick to counter, but beneath that pensive expression, you could’ve sworn you saw the smallest degree of contemplation. Even hope, from the looks of it.

‘NO’ was Bucky’s wordless, immediate, and resounding answer as he kicked whatever furniture—a footstool, this time—was closest to him and sent it flying toward the door. It seemed that self-control of his had worn off fast.

“No,” he affirmed in a word a second later, jaw clenched, “She is going nowhere near that suite.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance while he spoke. He was too busy eyeing the others, Steve specifically, as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and a light, blooming tinge of pink rose the length of his neck. If it weren’t for that staunch and menacing look on his face, he would’ve almost looked cute, you mused to yourself.

But, pretty man be damned, you wouldn’t stand for being ignored. Fuck that noise.

“I will,” you returned, a little more resolute this time.

Now Bucky had no choice but to pivot to you. His expression softened some, but not by much.

“No,” he said, again.

“Yes.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, Barnes. You said someone who wasn’t an agent could make it up there, and I can do it. Or try, at least, like you just said.”

If your attention hadn’t been fixed on your husband, you probably would’ve caught sight of more than one thinly veiled smile from the group around you. Natasha, in particular, all but tickled to see someone stand up to Bucky and give him a taste of his own shit—and live to tell the tale. The sight of her boss’s eyes almost glossy in the first tender look she’d seen from him in years was almost too much to bear. Steve stood grinning beside her, and Sam narrowly stifled an exhale of amusement. Neither you nor Bucky flinched from your positions.

“We can’t risk you being around him. They’re already all on high-alert,” your husband said after a calming breath.

“As are all your trigger-happy comrades waiting just ten feet outside the door, right?” you replied, “What is it, like, five, ten of them in total?”

“Twenty,” Steve interjected. Bucky shot him a look.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you up there when that fucker was just trying to— to kidnap you last week. I’m not—”

“Right. Right. Trying to kidnap me, not kill me. If Schröder wanted me dead, he would’ve made pretty quick work of that before,” you cut in, tone a touch more deliberate, “Even if he sniffs me out, he’s not gonna screw this whole deal by hurting me now.”

But the mere suggestion of harm to you had seemed to raise every hair on its end for Bucky, and then he was shaking his head, evidently more stubborn than ever.

“No, fuck. Don’t start,” he snapped with his newfound indignation, then, quieter, “Please…don’t, honey.”

You wouldn’t bow that easily.

“Why not?”

Truly, Bucky couldn’t be certain if it was the lilt in your voice, the pinch at the sides of your lips, or simply the sincerity consuming your eyes as you spoke to him, but the man could not stomach the thought of you, his own wife, being a stone’s throw from mortal danger and beyond his protection—or control, he wasn’t sure which one of the two was more dominating. Some cruel and unforgiving knot inside him came to tighten, and twist, and, nauseating as it was set on escape, the white-hot surge rose like bile in his throat. Before he could stop it, the words were spilling out through his teeth like froth:

“Cause I fuckin’ said so, that’s why. That’s it. It’s settled. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, you hear me?”

What Bucky hadn’t expected was the swift ascent back to your feet. The cool and almost careless expression as you rose, as though his words hadn’t registered at all.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to check him with your shoulder as you passed, knocking him slightly off-balance as he turned, in shock, and watched you give him one manicured middle finger over your left shoulder.

“Rogers, I’d like you to escort me upstairs.”

Worst of all, Bucky hadn’t expected Steve to listen.

Fortunately for him, the night was still young and with it, more than ample opportunity to be proven wrong again. And again.

“And again,” Steve murmured low in your ear as you walked side-by-side down the corridor on fourth floor, “If you get even the slightest bad feeling, you leave.”

“Might as well dip right now,” you muttered, adjusting your mask. Your attempt at humor fell flat with the man.

“I’m serious. We’ll be right outside and listening in from headquarters, but HYDRA is not a faction to fuck around with, or underestimate—as I assume you know by now.”

You did. Or would, eventually.

After the mask, you were busy trying to yank the back of your cocktail waitress dress to cover the full swell of your ass, not just the upper two-thirds. Unsurprisingly, it was a tougher task than you had been prepared to handle. Your new heels were tight and impossibly high, your new dress a mere scrap of pink fabric riddled with sequins and glitter, and your mask—holy fuck, were you glad Mardi Gras was not a year-round affair. Bucky had insisted on the fluffiest, stuffiest, full-face covering to ensure that no one would be able to recognize you, but in exchange for your anonymity, you had had to give up breathing, it seemed.

And then there was that vial of poison between your tits.

Sam had assured you that it was a nonlethal dose before handing it over; Steve had urged you, discreetly, to pour Schröder two for good measure. Natasha had overheard the latter and threatened legal action if he ever tried killing a target without her permission. You hadn’t spent much longer getting ready in the bathroom after that. Then you’d brushed past your husband the second you’d stepped out and strapped that last, semi-lethal ‘accessory’ to your bra before taking the lift upstairs.

As it turned out, you weren’t able to escape him entirely.

While you walked with Steve, Bucky was in your ear.

Literally—the man was talking nonstop through your earpiece and clearly had no intention of shutting the fuck up anytime soon. You silently wondered if there was a way to adjust the volume on the gadget as you ambled along.

“Honey.” There was a slightly more mechanical buzz to Bucky’s voice over your private line. You ignored it.

“So just find the cup he’s drinking from and pour the serum in?” you reiterated to Steve for the third time in the last ten minutes.

Your companion nodded, rattling off a few extra precautions while Bucky’s tone rang out a bit louder:

“Honey? You there?”

At last, you stuck your finger to the tiny flesh-colored device in your ear and snapped, “What?!”

“I love you.”

This fucker.

“I love you too. You’re still high on my shit list, though,” you answered, low and begrudgingly.

“Did I hear ‘hit list’? You’re gonna let me tap that later?”

If you didn’t have about fifteen different reasons to hate the man’s guts, you almost would’ve chuckled. At length, you muttered a quiet, ‘Kiss my ass, Barnes,’ and turned back to Steve, who was just then leading you closer to a room roped off and marked ‘EXECUTIVE SUITE.’ Your stomach did a flip as you paused around the corner.

“Right there. All you gotta do is knock and say a guy named Zemo sent you,” Steve spoke slowly, as if he were teaching arts and crafts to a five-year-old and not a woman about to embark on a high-risk sedation mission.

You nodded and took the silver tray from him carefully.

All the platter contained was an oversized bottle of Brut and a silver bucket, but damn if it didn’t feel like you were carrying the world and some change on that thing. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and turned in the direction of the door just a few yards away.

The time for painstakingly descriptive instructions and pep talks was long past you now. You nodded to Steve one last time and started to wobble over.

The entryway was flanked by two muscle-bound men. You approached with a smile.

“Hi. Zemo sent me.”

You didn’t know who the fuck Zemo was.

You hoped they wouldn’t ask, or notice how stilted and awkward you’d sounded just then. You swallowed a peach-sized lump in your throat and smiled again.

The one on the left grunted. The one on the right gave a nod. Without a word spoken between them, the former opened the door and made way for you to step over the threshold. You couldn’t help but notice both with their eyes trained straight on your tits as you passed by.

There was no way that had just worked. No pat-downs or harrowing threats? Not a single, searing interrogation into your identity or what you might be there to do?

Men were dumb, you decided, far too easily deceived by a decent pair of tits—HYDRA security personnel or not.

But you already knew that. You stepped inside.

The fetid stench of half a dozen blazing cigars and booze spilled on every surface were the first to greet you. A wave of smoke, then a bone-jostling bum bum bum to the beat of what sounded like a Don Toliver song came next. You almost couldn’t bear to make your feet move.

But then, shortly, you had to because a shrill, shimmer-doused beauty was waving you over toward the kitchen.

“Ba-by!” she shrieked, gesture growing frantic, “Bring it over!”

You walked with the tray out in front of you, careful with your steps across the sticky floor. When you made it over, where one other girl was stirring wildly at some concoction on the counter, you stopped, and had only to stand for a second longer, because the redhead that had beckoned you was taking the tray, setting it down, and grabbing something thin and pointy. You’d barely even registered it as an ice pick until the thing was thrust in your face.

“Crush it up,” she ordered, one curt nod toward a block of ice nearby. Evidently not giving a shit who you were or where you’d come from either. You guessed Wanda had just gotten unlucky, or they’d all stopped giving a fuck once Schröder’s men had really started drinking.

And drinking they had been, as your eyes surveyed the scene. Half-naked women with fully-clothed men, dressed head to toe in the finest of suits that were probably soaked through to the bone with sweat and Stolichnaya. You almost shivered at the sight of all the masked, wildly gyrating pricks, fumbling desperately through one verse of ‘After Party.’ You could vomit.

But where was your prick? That grimy little shit, Joey.

“Back of the room by the couch,” Bucky said, as if he’d read your mind.

Then a beat.

“Wait. Shit. That isn’t him. Schröder’s over by the door.”

How many tall, lanky blonds could there be in this place? You cast a sweeping look across the room and received your answer in less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail—there were a shit ton of Joey lookalikes all around.

“Careful. Mr. Schröder’s been on edge all night. Might bite your head off if you stare too long.”

The girl that was stirring had apparently caught you looking. She set the spoon aside and turned, but not before chancing a quick glance at the man Bucky had identified to you as your target. The man lifted his gaze.

You chipped away at the ice even faster.

Crush the shit, make a drink, pour the serum, and get it in him. Now. Don’t draw his attention just yet, though.

Something in your head told you to steal another look. You knew it was a bad idea, but you went on and did it anyway—and fortunately, felt a wave of relief at seeing that he’d retreated somewhere back with his friends. The ice pick in your hands made it through the last block.

“I’ll serve the shots, you bring the bottle to Mr. Pierce.”

Mr. Who?

“One of Schröder’s associates. Roll with it.”

It was Natasha’s voice now. Measured, but tense.

“He’s the older gentlemen straight ahead. He probably ordered the champagne for him and the others.”

That was Sam. You could only imagine how all of them looked huddled around the surveillance panel with the transmitter to your earpiece being passed about from person to person. The grip Bucky must’ve had on his gun, or his switchblade, or whatever weapon he could seize to make himself feel a little less helpless. But he was—as were you. And truthfully, there was nothing either one of you could do about that until Schröder was in custody. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.

So you walked with the bottle, now bathed in a tub of ice. You tried to keep steady, but the staggering drunks all around were making that tough, to say the least.

When one man struck you straight in the chest, elbows jutting out as he danced, you stumbled back a step. Nearly lost the tray for half a second, then recovered.

Until the dipshit hit you again.

This time you truly almost sent the bottle sailing for the floor, grip slipping on the tray and knees buckling underneath you as the force of the blow set you back. You bit a quick, ‘Fuck!’ in the air, seized the platter twice as hard and braced your weight against something firm behind you. A shelf, a TV stand, or something. Maybe a half-wall if you were lucky enough not to have careened against some expensive piece of furniture. You sighed.

“Everything alright?” a voice rumbled behind you.

Or a person. Yeah, a person would be pretty fucking bad to bump into at a time like this. Your whole body froze.

You turned.

“Ye-es sir. Yes, sir.” You quickly righted your tone the second you realized it was someone important.

Not Schröder, but someone who seemed to be big-name enough; you just weren’t sure who. The man smiled down at you from under his Venetian mask.

“Is this for me?” he nodded toward the tray, half-teasing.

You swallowed.

“Are you Mr. Pierce?” you asked.

The man’s grin stretched even wider.

“Nope, I’m Ward. but I can take you to Pierce.”

For the first time that night, your heart swelled with some promise. You thanked him quietly, gratefully, then made as if to follow him back through the crowd, when all of a sudden, you stopped. That heartfelt swelling in your chest halted right along with it. You almost dropped the tray.

“Schröder!” Ward bellowed.

No, no, now you were actually going to lose your shit. There was no way in hell you were keeping a grip on this silver little plate any longer without crying or screaming or shitting your pretty, pink, sequin minidress right there. You almost shrieked when a hand reached for the tray.

“Pierce got you doing all the heavy lifting, huh, honey? The bastard.” Even through his own ornate mask, you could tell Joey was grinning—glinting with conceit, as was his prerogative. He took the load off your hands.

“Take it easy now, he’s just—”

“Staring at your rack. Pull your top up, baby, please.”

The chatter in your ear had switched from Sam to Bucky at nearly lightning speed. You glanced down at your cleavage and tugged the fabric up quick, heart beating even faster underneath it.

In front of you, Joey Schröder was all teeth. A gruesome spectacle in spite of its seemingly benevolent intentions, one smile could have turned your stomach sideways. And it did—you wanted to throw up again—but you knew you had bigger fish to fry, and evil mobsters to poison. You didn’t flinch when Schröder nudged you in the shoulder and made his way ahead, coaxing you to follow.

You didn’t tense and didn’t protest. Didn’t blink when he led you straight through the party, around a few topless performers on poles, and into a backroom lounge.

In fact, your mind practically sang as he led you inside.

It was just every other nerve, muscle, and trembling tendon not under the immediate control of your brain that needed soothing. You could’ve sworn the men on the couches would see your legs shaking as soon as you trudged into the room and sniff you out on sight.

But if they had, they didn’t show it.

No one moved when you entered, save for a few lopsided grins and tilts of happy, masked faces. Sizing you up. Drinking you in. Far too easily mistakable for a band of apex predators that had just caught wind of their next meal, and not a room full of sleazy Russian mobsters. You bit back your grating disgust with a smile.

“Got a present for ya, Pierce,” Schröder announced.

A honey-blond head flecked with silver and white sat up from the sofa. Presumably the one who’d ordered the champagne.

“Oh yeah? What’d ya pay for her?” he returned, mouth curling up in a wicked smile.

Even above the booming music, you could make out peals of laughter as the men around you shared in some lewd, crude comments and several whispers exchanged between them. You would’ve liked to grab your bottle by the neck and break it over the nearest patron’s head, but then you remembered yourself, and your mission. You stilled beside Schröder and let them crack a few more tasteless jokes at your expense. Schröder chuckled and set the tray down in front of a thoroughly amused Pierce.

Then he grabbed you by the waist.

“Right. I forgot to ask—what is your price, sweetheart?” he said, swiftly pulling you up to his front.

Your hands flew to his chest reflexively. Your nose scrunched in a wince at the sound of an electric shout:

“GET HIM OFF OF HER!”

“Bucky, hey, hey, we can’t just—”

“NO! THAT’S NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PL—”

The line went silent. You scratched at the space behind your ear, trying hard not to betray any pain on your face, or the fear for what might be going on downstairs.

Clearly, you failed on both fronts, because Joey’s grip only tightened. He peered down at you, curious.

“You deaf or somethin’, sugar? What’s your price?”

You batted your eyes, momentarily struggling for words.

But then, somehow, you managed to choke out, stomach churning with bile:

“Whatever you want, sir.”

You felt your soul drain out through the soles of your shoes as you’d said it. Something fell from your face—most likely a light behind your eyes and any semblance of self-worth as you stood before the man who had tried to buy you, drug you, and kill half your family, and then pretend like you wanted to dance for him, or do more.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t right by any means, but it was all just roleplay.

Roleplay.

You had to keep telling yourself that as you let Schröder’s hand glide up your spine and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head up to his. It was just like your husband and his cold-blooded Winter Soldier persona, you tried to convince the increasingly frightened voice in your mind. Just like him, just like your sweet and soft and sadistic—

“Bucky,” you whispered unconsciously.

You knew he couldn’t hear you now. It was almost insane to think anyone could save you now but yourself.

“What?” Joey exhaled sharply.

You froze in fear.

“Five hundred bucks,” you corrected your error quickly.

You weren’t sure Schröder was convinced.

“Five hundred bucks for one lap dance and some fun?” he scoffed. Then he squeezed your neck a little tighter and drew your face within an inch of his own. You could feel the hot puffs of breath, smell the rancid liquor on his tongue, but you stayed where he held you in place and tried not to grimace when he said, “That’s a damn steal.”

Your lips were shaking something awful under your mask. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what kissing this vile, soulless bastard would taste like, but you feared it might come sooner than you knew, because Joey was drawing you even more rough and tight into his chest.

Just when your mouth was less than a hair’s breadth away from his, though, you heard a woman’s scream.

Then another. And another. And another.

Before long, almost half the suite had erupted in shrieks, it seemed, and the sounds of their horror were shortly supplanted by a series of explosions. And gunfire.

Johann Schröder dropped your body like the worst habit known to man and went bounding away from the turmoil as fast as he could. This time, you did trip over your heels and took a nasty little nosedive to the ground. Fumbling, crawling, then sliding across the shag carpet on your belly with your eyes in wild search of somewhere to hide.

You spotted a coffee table and muscled your way over.

“SCHRÖDER!” a voice roared from somewhere behind.

Again, you knew better than to look, but the fear of not knowing who, or what, might be barreling your direction at any second outweighed more sensible considerations. You stole a look over your shoulder and nearly screamed.

A man with a pitch black balaclava stormed into the lounge and wasted no time setting sights on his intended target—raising a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun to his face and firing the second the impulse struck.

You watched a once-handsome, lively, and drunk man turn to shredded, fleshy carnage in less than an instant and fall right beside your head with a thud. Your hand was your only defense to keep the shriek inside your chest, but even that blockade was crumbling fast as the blood-soaked assassin wrenched the body in the air.

The gunman tore the mask from his victim’s head and inspected the face—or what was left of it. He cursed.

You could tell from your close proximity to the blues of his eyes, and that sigh, you wouldn’t need to ask at all. You just sat there and stared, knees hugged to your chest as Bucky threw the body back down as hard as he could.

“FUCK!” he bellowed, voice flooded with rage.

Steve stumbled in with his gun at the ready. He eyed the man on the floor, then you, then a dozen other flailing, desperate partygoers trying to escape the suite all around you. You just drew in even tighter to the table.

“What happened?! Where’d he go?”

Rogers, like you, seemed unable to look away from the carcass, but for entirely different reasons. He appeared to be studying it just as your husband had been.

“It’s not Schröder!” Bucky yelled.

“Where the fuck’s he— shit.”

Suddenly, an unknown assailant opened fire on the two men from the opposite end of the room. Both dove for cover, but not before Bucky grabbed you and dragged you, full-force, behind the sofa. It didn’t seem there was time for sweet words or consolations, his eyes wide and half-crazed as they bore into yours just in front of you.

“Don’t move,” he barked, readjusting his grip on his gun in one hand and feeling around all over your sides with the other. On seeing and feeling no trauma, he nodded his head and moved his hand to your cheek, just briefly.

“Honey, I need you here—right here for me, alright? Don’t move a muscle,” he spoke low as Steve covered from above, rapid-fire shots ringing out on both sides.

Rushed and furious as he was, he couldn’t help but linger on that face a half-second longer than he intended. You were shaking your head and hugging your knees, meeting his eyes with what seemed to be reproach.

“You promised, Bucky,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

You were in shock, that was what it was, he kept telling himself. You didn’t know what you were saying, and he needed to turn away to help Steve, but then you were eyeing that body—that man he could’ve sworn was Schröder when he’d pumped him full of bullets—and you were turning back to him with unmistakable disgust.

He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged his wife for forgiveness if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. Like your life and his, and Steve’s—and Sam’s, now, bursting onto the scene with a semi-automatic rifle of his own as he helped his friend gun down the last of the stragglers. Bucky knew he had to help them, too.

So he’d stumbled back on his feet, less conscious than acting on pure impulse, and he joined in on the gunfire.

He reckoned he liked it. However long it lasted. He just rolled his shoulders once and sent the rounds flying; he ducked and he moved and he stood and he crouched and he fired every shot as if it were as easy to him as breathing. He didn’t think. When the three of them had cleared the lounge, and Sam and Steve tore off toward the two or three remaining rooms at the rear of the suite, Bucky still wasn’t fully present in his body. All he knew was that his clip was near-empty and his side was in pain—and the room they had emptied was safe. For you.

For you—where the fuck had you gone?!

Bucky barreled past the spot behind the couch where you were supposed to have been, but weren’t, and made a beeline for the closest room over. And nothing. More empty, threadbare, and bloody rooms filled with bodies that didn’t belong to you, and shortly he was yelling for Sam or Steve or anyone in that massacred suite to help him find his wife. The breaths in his chest were heaving.

He turned once, twice, eyes roaming wildly and hand grabbing fast for more ammo. He couldn’t find any more. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow, and just when he turned to call for backup once more, he paused.

In his periphery, he saw two forms.

He stopped fully and turned to the side.

If it was fear he had felt just then, he wasn’t aware of it. Instead, it seemed a white-hot and blinding ire had taken over, and rather than grow timid, or afraid, he went cold.

“Bucky…don’t,” you managed in a strangled, hoarse tone, throat visibly contained by a blade being held to it.

Behind you, a man stood masked and unflinchingly calm.

Bucky knew that wouldn’t do—no matter how hard or helplessly you pleaded with him then not to do it, please don’t do it, Bucky, please. All he heard in his head was the throb of his pulse, and all he saw before him was red.

He fired without a second thought.

The round just grazed the edge of the man’s cheek.

Bucky swore. Tried to fire his gun again. It was empty.

Still not thinking, much less hearing his wife’s desperate cries for him to spare the man’s life, he grabbed the smallest, sharpest object that was closest to him and charged your would-be attacker head on.

Both men fell to the floor, but only Bucky was mobile.

Only Bucky held the weapon now, as his opponent’s knife had been lost somewhere in the skirmish, and he was wielding it now faster than he ever had before, he thought—an ice pick, of all fucking things—driving it into the man’s face and neck and chest without the slightest regard for anything else.

Somewhere far outside his mind, he heard you scream. Felt you claw at his arm, grip at his shirt, make some wild, shrill, and vehement pleas that he couldn’t begin to understand in this state, and he continued. Hadn’t even considered slowing down until the man’s carotid was shredded in two and spewing blood all over his front.

Bucky couldn’t be sure how long it lasted like that; all he remembered was stumbling back, energy spent, fist still holding the pick and eyes duly glued to the body he’d just stabbed through and maimed until no life was left.

He saw you crawl over the body.

He wanted to warn you not to touch it. Lifted a hand and tried his best to form words, but nothing came out.

He watched you lift the mask.

From that point on, he was certain he had to have been seeing things that weren’t really there. Trauma-induced psychosis, he tried to assuage himself silently—that was the only explanation for the scene unfolding before him. Surely it couldn’t be you cupping that face, pinching that skin, shaking that cold and lifeless, blood-drenched frame beneath you as a sob racked through your own.

That signet ring on a pinky couldn’t have been real.

Bucky didn’t want to believe that gruesome discovery made manifest before him—in many ways, he couldn’t—but then it was painted clear as day as the cries endured, nothing changed, and a helpless, frantic wail rang out:

“DAD!”

—

Taglist: (If I missed anyone please lmk!!) @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grant-spector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @dixsond @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

2K notes · View notes

1800jjbarnes · 4 months

Text

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟏: 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 ◇

Lesson One, Be A Good Girl

【Synopsis】 : Your professors just want to help you learn and gain knowledge. Your first lesson happened to be very educational...

『W.C』 : 2.3k

-> Genre: College Au. Smut.

Pairing: Professor!Stucky x Student!Reader

[Warnings] : Age gape (reader is in her 20s while Bucky and Steve are in their late 30s). Swearing. Dry humping. Oral. Deep throating. Pet names. Semi-public sex. Fingering. Dirty talk. Slight power play. Heavy cum play, saliva and fluids cause I lost control. IM SORRY. Filming, mention of taking photos. Reader is curvy and beautiful. Unprotected sex. Piv. Steve and Bucky are huge!! Beefy men! Hehe. Some mxm and hints of prior seggy times with one another. Also, these two like to use terms that could consider the reader to be a “toy” of sorts. Which she is not and the boys do like her more than that I just got carried away like I normally do when I write things at 2 in the fucking morning. Oops.

Read part one first

Masterlist | Kinktober List

You gasped loudly, Bucky’s large hands slamming you onto the desk. Steve had lifted you up off your chair, ripping your panties down while pulling up your skirt. It all happened so fast. Legs spread, Bucky's hot clothed crotch humping against your aching core. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, vaguely hearing both men whisper and chuckle. You felt so exposed under their gaze even though you were mostly clothed. Steve’s deep chuckle caught your attention, making you shiver. “Look at that. She’s leaking down her thighs.” Steve squatted down beside you, snaking his hand along your plump flesh. Picking up some of your juices that had spilled down towards your ankle. You had practically come just from them throwing you around like a rag doll. Bucky’s hips snapped against you, letting you feel his growing erection. He let out a groan, feeling your slick seep onto him.

“Fuck I might just nut humping this desperate cunt.” Bucky gulped, his hands digging deep into the skin on your hips, creating crescent shapes from his nails. Your ears were ringing, as you felt so overwhelmed and they hadn't even touched you where you needed them yet.

“Stevie...Jamie..” You gasped, suddenly hearing a loud clank of a belt buckle. A hand gripped your chin, letting your wide eyes see Steve’s cock leaking pre-cum on his exposed tummy while he held the hem of his shirt up.

“Be a good baby and open up.” he let go of your chin, moving to pump his dick, tapping his red tip against your sealed lips. You opened up obeying every word both men gave. Flattening your tongue, you let Steve's large girth slide into your wet, warm mouth. “Fuck that’s it, baby. Take every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your jaw went slack, stinging slightly as you tried not to gag. Steve’s moans quickly filled the room, and he knew if they continued, they would only get louder. So he bit down on the fabric of his shirt he had been tightly gripped in his hand. You could feel him in your throat as he kept his thrusts slow and steady.

“Fuck look. She's getting excited just from sucking your cock Stevie.” Bucky had knelt down, coming face to face with your cunt. His mouth watered, studying the way you clenched around nothing every time Steve thrusted into you. “Okay Tiny, for your first official lesson, let's see how quickly you squirt on my face.”

You whimpered around Steve’s cock feeling Bucky’s tongue lap a long, slow strip of your cum, sucking on your lower lips before pulling away with a pop. His mouth was hot and abusive, his fingers slipping in next to his tongue. They were pumping at a pace that was making your lower tummy burn. Your jaw was slack, tempting to lock or close tightly around Steve. He seemed to notice picking up his pace in order to release deep down your throat. “Fuck Sugar I think I’m gonna bust down this pretty throat of yours. Is that okay? I want to empty myself in your mouth.”

You whimper around Steve’s cock from his filthy words. Your fingers squeezing his thighs, a silent way for you to say ‘yes, please, do as you please’. and so he obeyed, snapping his hips against you, spilling ropes of cum down your throat. You tried to swallow it all but it was like his seed was endless, and when he finally stopped and slid out of you, his fingers gazed over your chin seeing you trying your best to gulp down the rest of the white cream. “Awe, was it too much sugar?”

Your eyes were watering as you were now contemplating just spitting it out. But you were in a classroom, and you wanted to not make too much of a mess. Steve sensed your panic, kneeling down besides the desk you were still leaning against. He brought your face to his, clicking his tongue. “well come here, Sugar. Let me help.” His dark smirk made your head spin. “Sharing is caring.”

His lips latched onto yours, letting his tongue slip into your half-full mouth. His seed spilled into his mouth, letting himself taste the saltiness of his come. He swallows quickly, making you cry out against his hot, wet muscle. Meanwhile, Bucky hadn't stopped his assault on your aching pussy pumping to fingers deep inside you tipping you over the edge. Your climax was unlike anything you’ve felt before in your life. Your eyes were rolled back and your whole body tensed. You were on fire. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.”

“Hmm.” Bucky chuckles against your cunt. “You got a potty mouth baby.” you had the temptation to bite back at him suddenly, knowing all they had been doing for the past twenty minutes was swear and spill out filth. But the gushing liquid flowing down your legs distracted you, moaning instead, feeling your knees buckle.

“Look at that.” Steve had stepped back to stand behind you, taking in the view of your slumped against. Laying on top of the deck, your legs almost practically dangling limp and white cream mixing with clear liquid pouring down onto the floor below you. Bucky had stood up also, standing with his hands on his hips, looking smug of himself. “Maybe we should take a picture. Document the first time we got our girl off, huh?”

Steve and Bucky were mumbling to one another as if you were just lying on a school table fucked out of your mind in front of them. Suddenly you hear a click of a camera and your mind, as if a miracle, unfogs. Using your shaking arms you prop yourself on your elbows, wiggling your ass slightly while trying to look over your shoulder. “Fuck stay still princess.”

You tried to obey, noticing Bucky’s flash on his phone. You’ve never been in such a dirty position, let alone filmed. You wanted to come just at the sheer thought these two very beefy men were so obsessed with what you looked like they needed to take photos for safekeeping. It made you have a sense of powerlessness. Strangely. “Steve, Bucky. Someone please…touch me.”

You couldn’t explain where this newfound confidence came from, but your words made both males instantly by you. Bucky helped you up, leaning your chest against his while Steve stood behind you, giving feathering kisses along your neck and covered shoulder blade. “We are here tiny. You want us to touch you. Fuck you right here in this classroom.”

“Yes please,” you answered so sweetly, Bucky swore he could have melted then and there. Steve already had his slacks down, quickly following with his boxers. He grasps your hips, lifting your shirt up slightly so he can get a good view of your ass. His large hand almost covered your entire plump cheek, loving the way your body curves roll and fold beautifully. Like fresh bread dough, ready for Steve to squeeze.

“Fuck, you gonna have to take us raw.” Steve motioned, realizing he didn’t have condoms with him and He knew Bucky was definitely not carrying. “You okay with that Sugar?”

“Yes, please, sir.” The plea fell from your tongue before you could register what you had said. The pet name sent Steve’s cock twitching. His fingers dug more into your hips, threatening to draw blood from the sheer tightness of his grip. His tip slid along your folds, picking up some of your slick, Bucky’s eyes were glued to where his best friend was almost connected to you. It was a sight he never wanted to forget.

“Fuck Baby, what did I say about calling us sir or Mr…” Bucky’s voice was deep, deeper than normal. With a grumble hidden beneath. You whimper out a simple ‘sorry’ feeling a weird form of guilt, feeling bad for making your boys upset… your boys. That’s it. That’s what your mind thought of them as. But that’s if they’ll have you more than just today. Your eyes opened, looking straight at Yun. Your brow was scrunched as you reached for him. He stepped closer, his left hand gripping the back of your neck so you were at eye level with him. “If you keep calling us sir. I can’t promise what I might do to you.”

“S...Sir. Please.” You gasp, suddenly feeling Steve sink deep inside your cunt. Bucky growls, pulling his cock out of his slacks, pushing you down so you were bent on an angle, your ass flushed against Steve's pelvis and Bucky’s angry tip pressed firmly to your mouth. Pre-cum smeared on your tongue as you lapped along his shaft before he pushed inside your warm mouth.

"Fuck you feel amazing doll." Bucky threw his head back in a groan. His fingers laced in your messy hair, tightly guiding you along his cock. Steve, on the other hand, had his nails dug into your plump flesh, thrusting at a speed that left no room for oxygen. He didn't let you get used to his size, but the burn made your tummy rumble. He stretched you out perfectly, making your eyes roll back and saliva pool in your mouth, which Inevitably spilled out down Bucky's cock, coating his balls.

"Shit, Sugar. Why didn't we do this sooner? Your pussy is so fucking tight. And warm. Feels like heaven." Steve's rambles cause you to clench around him, making his hips stutter a bit. Bucky’s cock still deep down your throat you mumble around him, making the vibrations cause Bucky to still himself, fearing he might come then and there.

“Come one, baby, why don’t you come for Steve, hey? So we empty out loads in you.” You knew deep down Bucky’s desperate words were cause he was close, and given his thrusts were shallow and no longer timed. You were aware he didn’t have along. So you just moaned in response, wiggling your hips against Steve in a way to tell him to hurry up. Steve’s dark chuckle went straight to your core, making your high draw closer. You no longer felt the shyness from before but a newfound feeling brewing in your gut. One that made you well away that these two very large men were wrapped around your little finger. You let one hand go from Bucky’s thigh, bringing it down so you could rub your clit harshly, quickly finding a rhythm towards your release.

“Fuck I’m coming.” Steve crossed his hands, placing them on opposite hip dips, slamming his cock just right into your soaked cunt, emptying his seed deep inside you. This made you cum, clenching tightly around him, milking him of his cum. Bucky on the other hand, with his eyes watching intensely at how his cock disappeared then reappeared from your mouth, he grabbed your hair into a messy ponytail, stilling his thrusts to come inside your slacked mouth. You tried you best to swallow but like Steve, it was like his white creamy liquid was endless. So when he pulled out of you, he was quick to pull you up by your hair, smashing his lips against your own. His tongue slipped inside, taking his cum into his own mouth and swallowing. You have never known a man to taste himself let alone swallow his own load. God, it made you hornier than those female students fawning over these two super solider like men in front of you now.

“Come on, Punk. Come take a spin.” You could hear Steve’s deep voice chuckling behind you. You pulled away from Bucky seeing Steve swiftly move to stand beside the larger man. He grabbed Yun’s cock, tugging it a bit with a smirk plastered on his face. “You still have one more, why don’t you empty it into our sweet girl here.”

Steve’s lips grazed Bucky's sweaty neck, licking along the other male's jugular before giving it a little bite. These two have definitely played this game before with one another. But whether or not it has been with another person involved is a different story. But you shook off any negative thoughts when you reminded yourself about what Steve had called you. Our girl. God, these men will be the death of you. Bucky didn’t have time to say anything as you quickly stood up, grabbing his shoulders tightly, much to your poor imbalance. His hands, without hesitation, gripped your hips, holding you close against his broad chest. You leaned in and kissed him quickly, desperately, but there was a hint of something more. A stillness, caringness behind his kiss, something that was screaming, more, more, more.

Bucky’s left hand fell from your hip, snaking to grab a handful of your ass cheek, giving it a rough squeeze. His action made you moan lowly into his mouth, his sharp inhale through his nose.

His action made you moan lowly into his mouth, followed by a sharp inhale through his nose. Without breaking the kiss, he walked with you tightly in his grasp before the back of your legs hit the desk softly. You understood instantly what he wanted, removing your hands from his shoulders and then placing them down onto the oak table. You push yourself up with the little strength you have left, letting him shimmy between your spread thighs. he finally pulled away from your lips, so he could look down to where his cock was resting on your soaked tummy, “such a pretty baby. So ready for whatever we want. Are you are good girl darling? Going to be my good girl?”

“Yes, Jamie. I want to be your good girl. For both of you.” You felt tears welt against the crease of your eyelids. Your nails dig into the wood beneath you. He chuckled, feeling a sense of pride from just how easily you submit to him and Steve. How willing you are. He wonders what else they could get up to if they were in more of a private setting…

“That’s it, baby. Now, take a deep breath.” Bucky knew he was much bigger than Steve and even though he had prepped you and Steve as fucked you senseless only a moment prior. He was still going to be a lot to take in. Girth and length. So you obeyed perfectly, taking in a deep, slow breath as you felt him slip inside you, inch by inch. Your mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape, following with a silent scream and brows scrunched. He was definitely the biggest you’ve ever felt before. You tilted your head back, letting Bucky dive straight for your jugular, sucking a harsh purple mark on your neck, that would be very visible later. You were going to have to hide that tomorrow, but for now, you basked in the feeling of his teeth, tongue, or lips, as he thrusted at a slow but intense pace. Your body felt like it was on fire like you were a fuse box crackling electricity through water.

Everything was so sensitive.

And you needed more. Reaching up you grabbed Bucky's collar of his messy shirt, bringing his body close. His face nuzzled into your neck, snapping his hips at a pounding pace that quickly made you see stars. You were so close, just needed a little push, and then your eyes wander to a very desperate-looking Steve with his fully hard cock again once again, pumping it like his life depended on it. His eyes were focused on the way Bucky's hips jackhammered into you, following the same rhythm with his fist. And that sight alone helps you climax, clenching tightly around Bucky’s cock, milking the older man for everything he had.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” He mumbled against your neck, biting down hard onto your shoulder as he emptied his seed deep inside your womb. Everything suddenly went still, quiet. Even Steve had stopped, coming all over his hand from the entertainment had was gifting before him. Bucky's breath was pooling against your shoulder, while your nose nuzzled into his neck feeling his rapid pulse. There was nothing awkward about what had happened. But comfortable. Like you three were always meant to do this. Like all these games of cat and mouse were supposed to end up with you in their arms.

“So uh, another round back at ours?” Steve’s question just caused you and Bucky both to laugh.

1K notes · View notes

bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

KINKTOBER & FLUFFTOBER 2022

Welcome to my Kinktober and Flufftober 2022 Masterlist! This is my first official go at this event and I’m really excited to participate! I will post a mix of smutty and fluffy fics.

All of these are with Bucky Barnes + AUs.

These stories are intended for people over the age of 18. If you are a minor, DO NOT interact with any of these stories!

Please read the individual warnings for each fic!

Day 1 || Teasing — Stepdad!Bucky

Day 2 || Dirty Talk — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 3 || Autumn Leaves — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 4 || Handjob — Dilf!Neighbour!Bucky

Day 5 || Blowjob — CEO!Bucky

Day 6 || Farmers Market — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 7 || Fingering — Jock!Bucky

Day 8 || Eating Out — CEO!Bucky

Day 9 || Preparations— TFATWS!Bucky

Day 10 || Cockwarming — Professor!Bucky

Day 11 || Mutual Masturbation — Mob!Bucky

Day 12 || Warm Cuddles — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 13 || Food Play — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 14 || Role Play — CEO!Bucky

Day 15 || Winery — Mob!Bucky

Day 16 || Break

Day 17 || Phone Sex — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 18 || Mirror Sex — Stepdad!Bucky

Day 19 || Scary Movie — Roommate!Bucky

Day 20 || Thigh Riding — Mob!Bucky

Day 21 || Thigh Fucking — Beefy!Priest!Bucky

Day 22 || Halloween Prank — Roommate!Bucky

Day 23 || Overstimulation — Stalker!Bucky

Day 24 || Breeding Kink — Stepdad!Bucky

Day 25 || Haunted House — TFATWS!Bucky

Day 26 || Face Sitting — Beefy!Librarian!Bucky

Day 27 || Edging — Mob!Bucky

Day 28 || Haunted Hotel— TFATWS!Bucky

Day 29 || Knife Play — Stalker!Bucky

Day 30 || Double Penetration — Beefy!Priest!Bucky

Day 31 || Trick or Treat — Dilf!Neighbour!Bucky

Flufftober Moodboards

— Autumn Leaves

— Farmers Market

— Preparations

— Warm Cuddles

— Winery

— Scary Movie

— Halloween Prank

— Haunted House

— Haunted Hotel

— Trick or Treat

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

2K notes · View notes

sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

Text

It's gonna be May 🩷 we made it through April babies! Here's every glorious thing I read in April. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🩷🌷

Bucky Barnes ✨

Though I have never read it by @tuiccim

Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Her by @avecra

bucky barnes x reader

Sweet temptation by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob AU)

Thick as blood / punch in the gut by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Bucky x Darkish!F!Reader

Say the word and it's yours by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Grandeur by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Crossing the line by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Give it to me by @flordeamatista

dilf!neighbor bucky barnes x reader

Dirty rock by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Rockstar!AU)

Send me an angel by @navybrat817

Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Hide and seek by @targaryenvampireslayer

Bucky Barnes x female reader

You are my burning love on nights like these by @flordeamatista

knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Fem!Reader

Headstrong by @flordeamatista

beefy!bucky barnes x reader

The kiss by @lunarbuck

professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

Namor ✨

Waves of love by @flordeamatista

Namor x reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Flamingo king by @onsunnyside

Trailer Park!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Excelled by @syntheticavenger

Dom! Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl by @witchywithwhiskey

farmer!steve rogers x reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Magic fingers by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Sleepy sex by @worksby-d

Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Hold my heart by @flordeamatista

boyfriend!andy barber x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Sweet, sweet sugar by @unrefinedmusings

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Perfectly wrong by @psychedelic-ink

joel miller x fem!reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Gratitude by @kinanabinks

Lloyd Hansen x Mayor!Reader

Multiple characters ✨

Wicked little games by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Steve x Bratty Reader, Bodyguard Bucky x Reader x Bodyguard Andy

Peepshow by @labella420

Ari Levinson x F!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Let us take care of you by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader

#fic rec #april fic rec #bucky barnes #namor #ari levinson #steve rogers #eddie munson #andy barber #joel miller #lloyd hansen

168 notes · View notes

onsunnyside · 1 year

Note

…why do I suddenly have a need for a fic where reader convinces ransom to participate in no shave November? 🥵

you’ve always had a thing for ✨beards✨ and Ransom knew that before you two became exclusive (he’s seen your ex’s bc you had the same friend group: there was a long haired beefy professor, a divorced lawyer, and the wannabe porn director) *long drabble below*

On a night out on the town with your friends, and after a few drinks, the talk of no shave November comes up when you’re conveniently getting refills.

“I just think it’s weird—she clearly has a type.” Carol props her elbow on the table, staring at Ransom. “Yet, she ended up with you.”

“She’s never complained.”

“Maybe not to your face.” Bucky says.

“It’s the beard, right? Well, the lack of one.” Steve adds lamely, “I thought of that too, but people make exceptions.”

Ransom feels jealously prickle at his skin. He was not an exception.

“Especially if they’re rich.” Curtis laughs.

“Not everyone is a gold digger like you. That reminds me, how is that girlfriend of yours? The one who’s literal seconds away from being in a grave?”

“Am I on her will? Maybe. So don’t come crying to me when your trust fund runs out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ransom scoffs, knowing well enough of the fortune he’s sitting on. The one that could support you too, but no, you want to be independent and not sit around his mansion all day. Still feeling those eyes locked on his face, he sighs deeply. “Can I help you, Carol?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Thinking about what?” You pop up, carefully handing out the drinks. There’s an extra that you place in front of your boyfriend. “Some guy kept flirting with me and asked to buy me a drink, so I ordered one for you.”

“You’re the fucking best, baby.” Ransom grins, slipping out of the booth for you to sit on the inside. He slides back onto the cushion with an arm around your shoulders.

“What would Ransom look like with a beard?” Steve asks.

You tilt your head and squint. “Like one of my ex’s.”

“Okay, but you like beards, right?” If there’s one thing everyone knows about Carol is that she’s relentless, “all of your ex boyfriends had beards, or at least facial hair. Like that one with the moustache or the nerd with the goatee.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a clean shave.” You defend, knowing how Ransom doesn’t like talking about your ex’s. It was rough for him to see you with other guys, the girl who he’s been pining for since you met. “Look at Steve! He’s bare too—well sort of.”

“I shaved this morning, is it growing back already?” Steve rubs his chin, “Aw shit.”

“Maybe he needs some tips on growing a beard.” Curtis taunts, “need some help, Ran? It wouldn’t be very kind of me to leave you to suffer.”

“If he grew a beard, would you be more attracted to him?” Bucky asks.

“You can’t ask that!” Steve’s eyes widened. “That’s so rude!”

“Shut up, the adults are talking.” He waves a hand dismissively, prompting the blond to roll his eyes.

“Well?” Carol leans forward, a straw between her teeth.

You’re quiet for a few moments, the tension building with every breath. Your friends were so nosy!

“I can’t say I’ve never thought of it.”

Three out of the four erupt in cheers, Steve now thoughtfully looking at his reflection in a spoon. “Do women actually prefer facial hair?”

“No!” You avoid Ransom’s stare that burns through your skull. “Everyone is different.”

“But do you?” Bucky cuts their stupid celebration short.

“I’m not answering that.” You take a hearty gulp of your drink, welcoming the burning sensation down your throat.

“Do you prefer it?” Ransom speaks up, turning his whole body towards you and effectively trapping you in the booth. His brows are furrowed tightly, “do you prefer beards?”

“I—well… I mean… ugh! You’re all terrible!” You huff, hiding your face in your hands. “Yes, beards are hot! They’re sexy and immediately add a man to my DILF list, okay?”

“You have a list too?” Carol squeals, “who’s on it? I have a MILF list!”

“Am I on the list?” Ransom asks.

“You aren’t a dad.”

Yeah, but you call him daddy. And plenty of DILFs weren’t actual dads.

Now that he thinks of it, you did have a thing for older men too—especially when you dated that lawyer, his son wasn’t your age, but he was close enough that your new stepmom status was questionable.

“I don’t classify as a DILF to you?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” You slump, “would you look sexy with a beard? Yes! But you do you look sexy without one? Of course! You could pull off any look, and I love you for you. Nothing will change just because I find beards attractive.”

It goes quiet and you finally think the topic is over, but nope. Carol picks up the shovel again, and digs you a deeper hole.

“But I imagine the beard burn feels really good, right? Better than just clean shaved because of the sensations?”

#sonny drabbles #more than a drabble hehe #ransom loving hours #ask sonny #sonny’s stories #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #ransom drysdale x you

293 notes · View notes

hannahshattuck · 5 months

Text

Subs Only $6.66

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E

Art by: @mxaether (view the amazing art here)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cam Boy Steve Rogers, Trans Steve Rogers, Trans Character, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Professor Bucky Barnes, Professor/Student, College Student Steve Rogers, Mean Dom Bucky, Dildos, Sex Toys, Age Difference, Shrinkyclinks

Summary: "The hand wrapped around his dick stroked with every move of Steve’s hips. He saw the signs of Steve about to come but could tell on his face that none of the fantasies people have sent would send him over that edge. Bucky smirked as he hit send that his response would be the one to send Steve over that edge."

Written for @buckybarnesevents ShrinkyClinks Double Bang 2023

“Hi my little bunnies!” Bucky smiled at his computer screen as the live stream from his favorite cam boy started and the blond twink showed up on his laptop. Bucky couldn’t help but palm his dick through his sweats. Just seeing the twink’s face never failed to make Bucky’s dick stir.

“I hope you all have had a great day. I know I did.” The cam boy, who goes by Grant, giggled. “I was sent a gift from one of you lovely people and I decided that we could try it together.”

Grant leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed whatever gift he was sent. When it appeared on screen, Bucky couldn’t help the smirk that graced his face. The icy blue tentacle grinder was attached to a pillow with the provided straps. It was the top item on Grant’s wishlist and he’s talked about it so much on his socials that Bucky decided to buy it.

“Now, I know who it’s from and, before you all ask, no I will not be sharing their name. That’s for me to know and me only.” Grant laid back and slid his lacy, wine red panties down his legs revealing the other star of the show. “As you can see, I’ve been very excited to try this toy. I think I’ve soaked through three pairs of panties since I’ve received it.” Grant rubbed his fingers through the wetness that was leaking out of him. “Now I can’t wait anymore. Enjoy the show, my little bunnies.”

Bucky groaned as Grant slid two fingers in his pussy with little resistance. Bucky slides the waistband of his sweats under his balls and grip his dick tightly. He didn’t want to bust his load before he saw Grant get off. Grant pulled his fingers out and shifted so he was kneeling on the bed and grabbed the pillow with the tentacle grinder attached to it. He placed it between his legs and settled on the grinder. The cam boy rolled his hips experimentally and he let out a loud moan when his dick rubbed against the bumps of the grinder.

“Oh, god.” Grant moaned with his head thrown back. He gripped the pillow tightly, his pale knuckled turn as white as the pillow. He rolled his hips faster and with each brush of his dick against the grinder, his moans got louder and louder. Grant lifted his head up and looked directly into the camera. Bucky groaned and stroked his dick faster. The blissed out look on Grant’s face made him wish he was the cause of the cam boy’s pleasure. Although, in a way he was since he gifted Grant the toy.

“I’m gonna come.” Grant moaned as his hips moved faster. He looked like he was riding a dick and Bucky wished Grant was riding his dick. Grant’s moans became louder and his body hunched over as his hips stuttered with his climax. Bucky came not long after and his release coated his hand and some landed on his sweatpants. It’s a good thing Bucky didn’t have anything to do after this because there was no way he’d be able to focus after the show he just witnessed.

“Oh. My. God.” Grant took a deep breath as he collapsed on his side. His chest rose and fell with each panting breath. Bucky could tell that orgasm took a lot out of Grant and the dom side of Bucky wished he was there to provide the man the aftercare he deserved.

“That…was amazing.” Grant giggled as he rolled onto his stomach and kicked his feet in the air. The smile on his face proved that Bucky picked the right item to gift him with. “I’m going to get cleaned up now but I hope you came as hard as I did and enjoyed the show. I’ll see you all again, my bunnies!” Grant blew a kiss at the camera before he ended the stream. Bucky closed the web browser and shut his laptop. He cleaned himself up with a tissue since he wasn’t leaving his apartment today. After a show like that, Bucky would cancel all plans just so he could recover.

_________________

“Welcome to Literature 101. I’m Professor Barnes but you can call me whatever as long as it’s respectful. The syllabus is being passed out and in it, you will see the books we will be reading. You do not need to get all of them right now, unless you want, but make sure you have them at least a week before the start date. Now, if you’d turn to page-”

The door to Bucky’s classroom slammed open as a blond hair student stumbled in. The student pushed his glasses up his nose and Bucky’s heart stopped when he made contact with the blue eyes that fill his every thought.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I got lost and-” Grant started.

“It’s fine, just find a seat please.” Bucky luck must have run out because the only available seat was front and center. Grant slid into the seat and Bucky placed a syllabus on his desk with a small smile. Grant looked up at Bucky through his long eyelashes and mumbled a thank you as he took the syllabus. “Now, turn to the second page…” Bucky continued going through the syllabus and then had the students take turns saying their name, their major, and what they hope to do when they graduate. When it got to Grant’s turn, Bucky was interested to see what he’d say.

“Hi, my name is Steve. Right now I’m undecided but, um, I like art so I’m thinking of maybe going into art therapy or something for kids that are in the hospital for treatment. So…yeah.” Grant’s, well Steve’s, shoulders came up to his ears as red colored his cheeks. For someone so confident on his Only Fans, Bucky was almost shocked to see how shy Steve is in person.

“Thank you, Steve. I’m sure if you want to do art therapy, you would help many kids.” Bucky gestured to the next student to go but saw Steve out of the corner of his eye blush more with a smile on his face. Almost as if Bucky’s praise hit something within Steve. Bucky smirked internally knowing he could use that to his advantage.

_________________

“So one of my professors is so hot, you guys!” Steve, now that Bucky knows his name, says as he lazily works a dildo in and out of his pussy. “No, I’m not going to say what class, brock7894. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

DaddyDom41: i bet its anatomy. can show youre professor that pussy

sitonmahface: nah its pe

faeboy: is there even pe in college?

Bucky chuckles at the chat when they start talking about if colleges have P.E. as a class. Which, technically no, but Bucky won’t burst their bubble. He keeps switching his gaze between the dildo Steve has and the chat begging him to say what class. Seeing Steve so carefree on his streams, makes Bucky want to keep him forever but logistically he can’t let Steve know who he is since Bucky could possibly get fired for sexual misconduct.

“Alright, you guys. Enough guessing about my classes. What should I do for this stream? I’m already soaking as you can see.” Steve pulled out the dildo which was shiny with his juices. “I didn’t have a plan since I’ve been busy with classes.”

user23468234: you should ride that grinder again. you came so hard.

Steve grinned like a cat who caught the canary. “Oh, that’s a great idea. And I did come hard. Probably the hardest I ever came.” Steve pulled the dildo all the way out and gave it a lick before setting it aside. Steve leaned over out of the camera’s view and then quickly came back into frame with a wolfish grin on his face. “What if we made this even more interesting? I’ll hold off as long as possible and you all try to make me come by telling me what fantasies you have.”

Bucky shifted in his chair when Steve said that. The fantasies he has almost always involve Steve. Bucky bending Steve over his lap and spanking that pale ass until it turns a beautiful shade of red. Pushing Steve on his knees and forcing him to take Bucky’s dick deep in his throat. Throwing Steve on to his bed and eating out his cunt and sucking on his dick until the blond is quivering and begging Bucky to fuck him. There’s no way he could type out his fantasies and send them in the chat without making himself look like a creep. Although, compared to others in the chat, based on what “fantasies” they’ve already sent, Bucky’s probably tame.

“Oh my goodness!” Steve giggled. “I haven’t even gotten the grinder set up and you all are already sending in stuff.”

daddysbitchboi: i’d like to tie nyou up and watch as you get fucked by every dildo i have

SameulWilliamBenjaminJames3: I would ask you what you wanted to do. I’d be at your mercy for you to use my body however you pleased.

Bucky rolled his eyes at that comment. Has this guy never seen one of Steve’s videos? The twink is exclusively a pillow princess who wants to be used.

Bucky groaned as he saw Steve pull the icy blue tentacle grinder into view and attached it to a round pillow Steve always kept on his bed. When Stev straddled the pillow, Bucky’s hand shot straight into his pants. He tightened his grip at the base of his cock to stave off his climax. He needed to see Steve reach the end before he did.

“Alright, fuck,” Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth as his hips moved over the bumpy grinder. “I forgot how good this feels. Hng.” Steve threw his head back as his hips moved faster. He then slowed down with a blissed out look at the camera. “C’mon. Send me those fantasies. The one who’s fantasy makes me come might get a special treat.”

Bucky knew then he’d resign from his teaching position. He’d risk it all for Steve. With one hand, Bucky typed his response but waited to send it. With all the videos he’s seen of Steve’s, Bucky knows when the blond is about to come. The way a red flush makes its way across Steve’s cheeks and down his chest. The tendon in his neck bulges out as Steve clenches his jaw to stave off his climax.

brock7894: i’d tie you up and attach you to my fucking machine. youd take the biggest fake dick that could fit in that pussy

Bucky growled at that brock7894 ass. Trying to steal his boy. Not…that…Steve was his actually. The hand wrapped around his dick stroked with every move of Steve’s hips. He saw the signs of Steve about to come but could tell on his face that none of the fantasies people have sent would send him over that edge. Bucky smirked as he hit send that his response would be the one to send Steve over that edge.

_________________

“Remember that your final essays are due next Thursday. They count for half of your grade to please make sure to work on them with ample time.” Bucky dismissed his students and sat behind his desk and started closing the powerpoint on his computer. When the last student, or who he thought was the last student, left the door was slammed shut and Bucky heard the faint click of the lock. He turned his head and smirked when he saw Steve stalk over with a glare across his pretty face. “Mister Rogers. What can I do for you?”

Steve slammed a piece of paper on the desk and pointed at Bucky with an accusatory finger, “You knew who I was the moment I stepped into your class.”

Bucky looked down at the paper and smirked when he saw it was his chat response.

jbb32557038: if you were my boy i’d take you over my knee and spank that ass red. you’d be on your knees so quick that you wouldn’t know up from down. i’d force your jaw open, shove my dick down your throat and make you choke until you start begging for my cum. or maybe you’d be bent over my desk while i teach. every time a student fails there your sweet ass would be ready to take my frustrations

Bucky looked up at Steve with a shiteating grin, “Hey, you came harder than you ever did before.”

Steve’s glare deepend. “Isn’t there something in the rules about engaging with one of your students sexually? I’ll go to the dean.”

Bucky stood up from his chair and towered over Steve. The way the shorter man took a step back made Bucky grin more menacing, “And tell them what, sweetheart? That you’re a cam boy? That one of your professors watches your videos and did before you were his student?” Bucky stepped closer to Steve which caused the shorter man to back up. When Steve’s back hit the door, Bucky knew he had him in his grasps. “Or would you tell them that you came so hard from your professor’s fantasies? That your little dick twitched as your pussy exploded. That you soaked the pillow you had your grinder on. The same grinder your professor bought you. I was watching your videos before you were my student. Should I have stopped when you walked in that first day? Probably, but with the way you’re reacting I made the right choice of not stopping.”

Bucky gripped Steve’s throat and the blond’s eyes rolled back. The professor leaned in close so Steve could feel his breath on his lips. He gently squeezed the sides of Steve’s neck to get his attention. Crystal blue eyes met Bucky’s own storm cloud gray. “Now, if you’re done being a brat I’d very much like to kiss you and fulfill all my fantasies and yours. What do you say?”

#shrinkyclinksdoublebang2023 #hannahshattuck writings #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #shrinkyclinks

21 notes · View notes

musette22 · 6 months

Note

Ok minnie: imagine you had to choose!

Who would you ship more:

Bucky and Chris

Or Sebastian and Steve

Oh noooooooo, why would you do this to meeee 😭😂 This is SO hard, oh my god... Part of me wants to be like "I'm sorry, I'm a monoshipper so I cannot" but I also don't want to be a spoilsport lol, so ummm, let me think...

God, that's tricky. Especially because there are so many "versions" of these boys, you know? Frat boy Chris, Seb in his Chelsea days, prewar Bucky, Nomad Steve, "daddy" Chris with his glasses, fluffy professor Seb, winter soldier Bucky, beefy TFA Steve etc. etc. Some of those would go better with specific versions than with other specific version imo, if you know what I mean 😅

But generally speaking, I *think* I'm going to have to go with Bucky and Chris, purely because Chris and Steve are quite similar in certain ways? Both kind and big-hearted, both kind of introverted in some ways and not at all in others, they both draw and they're both concerned with the state of the world and try to do their bit, and they're both guys who feel things very deeply, to name just a few things. So I think Bucky could care for Chris too, though he could never love anyone the way he loves Steve, obviously. Bucky and Steve are soulmates, after all!

Having said all that, I think Steve would get incredibly flustered around Sebastian because he's just so very pretty and sweet, which in itself could also be pretty cute! But at the end of the day, I think the best solution would just get all four of them together like in the sound of rain on tin by luninosity, for instance 😉

#stucky #evanstan #chris evans #sebastian stan #steve rogers #bucky barnes #minnie answers

22 notes · View notes

the-queen-of-hell-666 · 2 years

Text

2022 Kinktober Masterlist

Here is my Kinktober masterlist and what I have planned for you all, my wonderful amazing readers! I hope you like the thigh clenching, panty soaking, jean tightening thrill of smut! I hope you enjoy!

Banners by: @vase-of-lilies

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

Day 1: Massage: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Masseuse!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 2: Biting/Marking: Eddie Munson x Slight!Possessive!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 3: Public Sex: Dark!Lee Bodecker x Dark!Fem!Reader 🔥👿🕸️

Day 4: Degrading: Mr. Freezy(Robert Pronge) x Bratty!Fem!Reader 🔥

Day 5: Knife Play: Ghostface!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 🔥🕸️👿

Day 6: Omegaverse: Alpha!Wolf Hybrid!Ransom Drysdale x Omega!Human!Fem!Reader 🔥🌙

Day 7: Panty Kink: Perv!Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 8: Skirts: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Showgirl!Fem!Reader 🔥🌙

Day 9: Size Kink: Beefy!Ari Levison x Petite!Fem!Reader 🔥🌙

Day 10: Blood Kink: Dark!Steve Kemp x Innocent!Fem!Reader 🔥🕸️

Day 11: Monster Fucking: Loki Laufeyson x Witch!Fem!Reader 🔥🌙

Day 12: Anal: Dark!Mr. Freezy(Robert Pronge) x Fem!Reader 🔥🕸️👿

Day 13: Choking: Sub!Thor Odinson x Dom!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 14: Phone Sex: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Needy!Fem!Reader 🔥

Day 15: Body Shots: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 16: Fucking Machine: Sub!Ransom Drysdale x Soft!Dom!Fem!Reader 🔥👿🌙

Day 17: Threesome: Steddie x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 18: Cuckolding: Lloyd Hansen x Married!Fem!Reader 🔥👿

Day 19: Bondage: Soft!Dom!Wanda Maximoff x Sub!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 20: Scent Kink: Rockstar!Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 21: Mommy Kink: Dom!Natasha Romanov x Sub!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 22: Dacryphilia: Rockstar!Soft!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 23: Morning Sex: Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 24: Housewife Kink: Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Dark!Wife!Fem!Reader 🔥👿🕸️

Day 25: Praise Kink: Jake Jensen x Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 26: Knotting: Alpha!Andy Barber x Omega!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 27: Breeding Kink: Slight!Feral!Ari Levison x Wife!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 28: Thigh Fucking: Eddie Munson x Plus-Sized!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

Day 29: Body Worship: Soft!Wanda Maximoff x Insecure!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥👿

Day 30: Daddy Kink: Bucky Barnes x Jealous!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥👿

Day 31: Age Difference: Uni-Student!Bucky Barnes x Professor!Fem!Reader 🌙🔥

#kinktober #2022 kinktober #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction

327 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Welcome to Navy's Marina

Hello, lovelies! Welcome to Navy's Marina, otherwise known as my blog. Below are some links and posts to help you get around. Thank you to @sgt-seabass for my beautiful headers and @rookthorne for my lovely divider! 💙

⚓ Navy's Navigation - My blog rules and navigation

⚓ Navy's Port of Call - Fic and writing info

⚓ Navy's Library - Sideblog for my fics

⚓ Navy's Treasure Chest - KoFi

⚓ Slumber Party Sleepover

⚓ AHOY - Recent fics

1/22 - Opacity (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/22 - Worship (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/18 - Cordially Invited: Part 2 (Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader)

1/18 - Shatter (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/15 - Greedy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/12 - Preliminary (Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Reader)

1/8 - Insatiable (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/6 - Ravenous (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

1/4 - Adventures in Babysitting (Florist!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

12/31 - Midnight Kiss (Chris Beck x Reader)

12/26 - A New Tradition (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

12/23 - Christmas Karma (Nick Fowler x Reader)

12/12 - 12/21 - Navy's Naughty & Nice Nonsense (Various couples)

12/11 - Sugar and Spice (Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Reader)

12/4 - Spoils of War (Gladiator!Steve Rogers x Reader)

11/25 - What Goes Around (DBF/BFD!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

11/17 - Far, Far Away (Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

11/9 - Keep the Change (Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Reader)

11/4 - Lay Me Down (Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/30 - Traditional (Tattoo!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Tattoo!Steve Rogers - Howling Commandos Tattoo AU

10/25 - Finding Home (Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Reader)

10/15 - Like Real People Do (Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/6 - Under the Weather (Mechanic Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Reader) Beefy Roommate Universe

Love and thanks for stopping by! 💙

#navy's marina #navy's navigation #navy's port of call #blog navigation #blog rules #navigation post #my blog #my rules #my writing #thanks for stopping by!

77 notes · View notes

sofi1sstuff · 2 years

Text

❄️Bucky Barnes recommendations❄️

Ongoing

❄️

Completed (series/miniseries)

❄️None like you (by @bonky-n-steeb): Bucky Barnes has it all — money, success, looks, fame, women. But when he falls in love with the only woman who doesn’t love him, he starts wondering if he really has it all.

Series masterlist

❄️Only friends (by @metalbuckaroo): At 3am, every Sunday, Bucky locks his bedroom door to watch his favorite camgirl. What’s to happen when he finds out he’s much closer to her than leaving generous tips on her videos?

Series masterlist

❄️Heavy metal lover (by @mypoisonedvine): Working as a dominatrix is never exactly easy, but a new client brings challenges you never expected.

Series masterlist

❄️To Have & To Hold (by @slyyywriting): Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.

Series masterlist

❄️Operation faking it...?(by @povlvr): Surely faking a relationship to improve the public opinion of one beefy super solider known as Bucky Barnes would be the easiest of mission for two well seasoned Avengers? Tony Stark seems to think so & decides to task you with 'Operation: Faking it', but what happens when you realise there might be less faking needed than originally planned?

Series masterlist

❄️Take my breath away (by @buckycuddlebuddy): who knew that your silent, very good-looking neighbor with the cutest kid was such a devil under his grumpy and quiet behavior...

Series masterlist

❄️The Key to your heart (by @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl): Joining the Avengers wasn't on your plans. Not until Steve asked you to help his best friend. Bucky was Bucky, but the Winter Soldier still came from time ti time, bringing with him chaos and destruction. And you was supposed to keep that side of him away... But what happens when both Bucky and the Winter Soldier start to enjoy your company more than anyone else? Should you turn your back on the Soldier, ignore his own fears and traumas? That's exactly what everyone wants. But you were never known for following orders...

❄️

One Shots/Drabbles/ Prompts

❄️Teach me how to love (by @bonky-n-steeb): Your professor isn’t as sweet as you thought.

❄️Sleepless nights (by @kikixreverie): Weeks of not being able to get off leave you restless and without sleep, and after hearing your troubles through the thin walls, your roommate, Bucky, decides to help you out.

❄️Ask nicely (by @classylo): After a heated kiss in the Oval Office, you avoid your boss in hopes that the tension will wear off…he has other plans.

❄️Lay me gently (by @barnesmurdock): Unsure about how sex works, Bucky trusts you enough to lose himself to you under the wakandan night sky.

❄️His Barmaid (by @mavsstar): You work with Bucky, your dads best friend. You can’t hepl but drool over him and it doesn’t help you work with him every single night. Luckily the feelings are reciprocated one special night.

❄️Study date (by @navybrat817): Bucky doesn’t like other guys near his best

❄️Bad date (by @firefly-in-darkness): Your date isn’t going well but a chance encounter with the Mafia King of Brooklyn changes your view on how your night is turning out..

❄️A second chance (by @upallnite2getbucky): While having the worst day, you find something unexpected that turns your day around.

❄️Ticking time bomb (by @buckyslittlegirl): Bucky joins you for a Disney movie marathon! But what happens when the most comfortable seat in the room happens to be his lap

❄️Bad Intentions (by @seventven): Dr Barnes, y/n’s psychology professor and final year thesis supervisor is going through a rough patch in his marriage. following a heated argument at the end of class, dr barnes spots y/n at an on-campus bar. he makes a twisted revelation.

❄️Incessant (by @mavsstar): You take the kids to your ex husband while you go on a date

❄️Her (by @avecra): When Bucky's anger gets the best of him during a debriefing meeting, your touch is the one thing that can ground him.

❄️Little Lily (by @raysheart): you unknowingly bring out a side of bucky he never knew was there.

❄️Cutting Bucky’s hair (by @mellowpiepizzalamp): Bucky’s hair didn’t sit good with him anymore.

❄️Just for the night (by @bethdutten): Bucky needed someone to get him through a particularly hard night. Now, he isn’t sure he can handle being alone again.

❄️Fake (by @wvintersoldat): bucky doesn’t have the best reputation, and you’re the avenger’s golden girl. steve comes up with a plan to change the public’s opinion.

❄️there is no other love, it’s only yours (by @mellowsaturns): they say a dream without love is a dream forgotten, luckily for bucky, he remembers every single one that you appear in

❄️think of me (by @bethdutten): a mission gone wrong transfers wanda’s powers to you. now that you can read minds, you find out all sorts of things bucky has been keeping to himself.

❄️Size (by @barneswinterraven): he just wanna make sure he gets the right size

❄️So tasteful (by @straywords): Your baked treats are suspiciously good and it attracts the mob boss’ attention.

❄️A Little Superstitious (by @jadedvibes): The school's football team needs a win and a certain blue-eyed player could use a kiss for good luck to help make that happen.

❄️Easy (by @jadedvibes): An impromptu night out at a local speakeasy results in you waking up next to your crush.

❄️first (by @buckycuddlebuddy): it is the first time he’s been kissed, and bucky thinks he’d never stop kissing you after this.

❄️The Bet (by @wkemeup): The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.

❄️What's Yours is Mine (by @navybrat817): You like to borrow Bucky's shirts, so he decides to try one of yours.

❄️Disillusioned (by @buckybabesonly): Every time I tried to take a step closer, he took a step back. Falling in love with Bucky Barnes was easy, but the distance he kept between us was torture.

❄️Flirting (by @imyourbratzdoll): Bucky flirts with Sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

❄️Mr. Barnes, Teacher Aide of the Year (by @soulgazingwithbucky): Your brooding Avenger boyfriend becomes a regular visitor in your classroom.

❄️The Other Guy (by @seventven): pietro proves to y/n that bucky is into her by doing everything in his power to make him jealous

❄️Until his last breath (by @witchywithwhiskey): when your best friend finds you destroying all the stuffed animals your cheater boyfriend gave you, he comforts you and buys you a new one.

❄️When The Anxiety Is Too Much (by @hopelessromantic423): On a day when your anxiety is getting to you, Bucky comes to the rescue.

❄️warm mugs and warm hugs (by @sleepisaturn): as Bucky's partner you absolutely can't allow it that he spends Christmas alone.

❄️In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning (by @hopelessromantic423): After breaking up with Bucky, you miss him greatly but you don’t feel it’s your place to contact him. One sleepless night, Bucky shows up at your doorstep and you two reconcile.

❄️Little Mermaid (by @buckyarchives): a mission gone rogue, and bucky has to depend on you to save him, with the help of a few unlikely friends found in the middle of the atlanic.

❄️Protector (by @buckybabesonly): When Steve gets injured on the field protecting you, Bucky lashes out at you from fear of seeing you in danger, and jealously of Steve’s arms around you.

❄️I like me better when I am with you (by @themorningsunshine): Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.

❄️Nothing Breaks Like A Heart (by @buckybabesonly): You finally confess your feelings to Bucky, hoping he might like you back. He turns you down.

❄️Satisfied (by @adrinktostopyourthirst)

❄️Happy Day (by @angrythingstarlight)

❄️Librarian and Peach (by @angrythingstarlight)

❄️Am I enough for you? (by @buckys-p1um)

❄️King in your story (by @sinner-as-saint)

❄️Caramel kisses (by @stylesmygucci)

❄️It's you and me, that's my whole world (by @cruelfvkingsummer)

❄️To be so lonely (by @sableseb)

❄️Incoherent (by @buckyhoney)

❄️Drunk & obsessed (by @infictionalwonderland)

❄️Best friend (by @buckyalpine)

❄️Fuckboy (by @buckyalpine)

❄️Work wife (by @buckyalpine)

❄️Service with a smile (by @navybrat817)

❄️A little touch of heaven (by @couragemydearheart)

❄️Bad nightmare (by @of-many-fandomss)

❄️

You can check other characters recommendations here

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky fic #Sebastian Stan #bucky fluff #bucky smut #winter solider x reader #MCU #mcu fic rec #mcu imagine #bucky x female reader #winter solider imagine #winter solider fanfiction

237 notes · View notes

stuckybingo · 7 months

Text

Stucky Bingo Round-Up #3 (September 24th - 30th)

If you would like a shiny Bingo Card of your own, you can fill out this form! Don’t forget to fill out the submission form to be a part of the round-ups and to get your bingo badges!

Blossoming Ink by rookthorne Square filled: Adopted square (September) - AU: _____ Shop Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: poly relationship, light show of dom/sub, pet names, fluff Summary: Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart. Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

It Happened at Brunch by Astaraiche Square filled: N2 - Arranged Marriage Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: A/B/O, arranged marriage, Regency era, post-serum Steve Summary: It’s a lovely summer morning. Steve is about to get married. Brunch must be had. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

The Mourning After by SmutConnoisseur Square filled: I4 - Eldritch Horror Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: Major character death, Graphic depictions of violence, MCD, Violence, Grief, Body Horror, Cutting up a corpse Major tags: MCD, Violence, grief/mourning, unhealthy coping mechanisms, pain, ghosts, possession Summary: Steve's life has been a continuous cycle of grief. One by one, everyone he loves abandons him. Until one night, he reaches his breaking point. Love is something worth fighting for, but he can feel it slipping away from him. What is there to stop him? He has nothing left to lose. Not even himself. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Shield Book Store by Astaraiche Square filled: N3 - Free Space Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: AU: Book store, AU: No Powers, Fluff Summary: Steve Rogers is a former history professor turned bookstore owner. Bucky Barnes, Steve’s husband, is a best-selling novelist, who calls Shield Book Store his unofficial headquarters. Format: Moodboard and small blurb

Get This Stuff Out Of My Head (Chapter Nine) by singthebeginningofmoana Square filled: N3 - Free Space Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Trust Issues Major tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering Summary: Bucky is ready to accept help, but he has some demands. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

i'll take your roses (if you cut off the thorns) by sparkagrace Square filled: N4 - empathy Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: smol!steve, beefy!bucky, runaway groom, florist!steve, friendship Summary: “Your doors were open when I came out and then I just… went inside.” There’s a short pause. “I didn’t have a plan beyond that.” “… are you running away?” This time Steve notices the blush that runs all the way up the groom’s face as he nods, hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer. Steve bites his lip, unsure of how to proceed. How does he proceed? He’s a florist; he's not supposed to be a car service for runaway grooms. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Going, Going, Gone! by Astaraiche Square filled: N5 - Bachelor Auction Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Bachelor auction, childhood friends, getting together Summary: Steve is participating in the Stark Industry's 15th Annual Bachelor Auction. The winning bid is shocking, in more ways than one. Format: Medium oneshot and mood board

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 3 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: I4 - Friends to Lovers Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Historical AU, Anal Sex, College AU, Vietnam, Friends to Lovers Summary: Steve and Bucky talk. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 4 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: B4 - Kink: Pain Kink Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply, drug use Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Pain Kink, Spanking, Drug Use Summary: Losing himself in Steve, Bucky takes a trip. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 6 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: G4 - AU: Historical Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply, orgy, drug use Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Orgy, Drug Use, 1960s Summary: Free love, baby. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 7 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: I4 - Kink: Oral Sex Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply, threesome Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Threesome, 1968, Oral Sex Summary: Three's company. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 8 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: N1 - AU: College Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply, drug use Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Drug Use, 1968, Anal Sex Summary: Bad dreams and good sex. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 9 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: B3 - Fist Fight Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply, fist fight, brief mentions of violence and blood Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Fist Fight, Anti-Vietnam Protests, 1968 Summary: You can run, but you can't hide. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low, Chapter 10 by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: G2 - Bruises Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply, brief mentions of blood Major tags: Historical AU, College AU, Bruises, Love Confession, 1968 Summary: You're it for me. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

#stucky bingo #stucky bingo round 5 #round up 3 #weekly round up #don't forget to fill out the submission form

7 notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

Note

Can we have a reminder or what series are a/b/o?

Sure! So today is a/b/o Wednesday so you can send in asks for any of these series/ideas:

Wildest Dreams: alpha!football!Stucky x omega!Reader

Higher Love: professor!alpha!Ari Levinson x omega!reader

Like My Father: alpha/omega/mob reverse harem

Frat!Cevans character (yet unnamed) that’s an alpha and his plus-sized, bashful omega (mob au) and their arranged mate/marriage

Watch My Heart Burn: alpha!Johnny Storm x omega!reader

Unburdened: alpha!beefy!Bucky Barnes x mute!omega!Reader

#a/b/o wednesday #a/b/o series #I know I’m forgetting some but these are what I’ve got

27 notes · View notes

sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

Text

And that's a wrap on November ✨ another month, another rec list. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🌹

Bucky Barnes ✨

Thunderstorms and rainbows by @summerofsnowflakes

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Mafia!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

A correspondence of obligation by @pellucid-constellations

Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

Fear and degradation by @groupieforbucky

rockstar!bucky barnes x innocent!female reader

Priest!Bucky by @bucky-barnes-diaries

Beefy!CatholicPriest!Bucky x Inexperienced!Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

Your filthy heart by @sweeterthanthis

Stepdad!Bucky x 18+F!Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

(She moves with) shameless wonder by @ussgallifrey

Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Waiting for this by @musingsinmoonlight

Alpha Steve Rogers x omega female reader

A good 'bad idea' by @late-to-the-party-81

MeanDom!Steve x Bratty! SHIELD Admin Reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Sad girl by @onsunnyside

dark!bodyguard!Lloyd Hansen x reader

Have a taste by @navybrat817

Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Room with a view by @biteofcherry

dark!Ari Levinson x female reader

Hold on by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

boyfriend!Ari Levinson x reader

Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers ✨

Love's eternal kiss by @jobean12-blog

Stucky x reader

Steve Harrington ✨

Waiting for a girl like you by @traitorjoelite

steve harrington x fem!reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Dirty little secret by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Roll play by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Take it slow by @munsonquinns

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Andy Barber ✨

Keep the change by @navybrat817

Sugar daddy!Andy barber x female reader

Silence in the library by @angrythingstarlight

Dark!Professor Andy Barber x reader

#fic rec #november fic rec #bucky barnes #steve rogers #lloyd hansen #ari levinson #steve harrington #eddie munson #andy barber

202 notes · View notes

ao3feed-stevebucky · 1 year

Text

Pursued by Bear

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ft8hrUS

by Zenaidamacrouras1

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent."

I saw a tweet about a UFC conference happening in the same hotel as a Shakespeare Conference and then hoped someone else would write a Stucky fic about it, but then I accidentally wrote it myself. I'm not saying who is attending which conference, but I am saying that Steve wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches.

May contain: Shakespeare quotes. I don't think there are any triggers, besides like, smuttiness.

Merry Christmas, if you're into that sort of thing. Happy Solstice and Hannukah too! May your days be full of light, is kind of the summary of the holiday spirit, and also, full of smooching, just tacking that one on there.

Thanks to tenmilestilts and badgerandk for extremely speedy beta.

Words: 3315, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Professor Steve Rogers, Bodybuilder Bucky Barnes, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers Top, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Small Steve Rogers, Small Steve Rogers Top, AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Shakespeare Conference, Steve is a Shakespeare Professor, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, They hook up at a conference, it's not that complicated, lots of shakespeare quotes, Shakespearean Sonnets, are quoted while they make out, If That's What You're Into, Shakesqueer!

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ft8hrUS

#ao3feed #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve/bucky #stevexbucky #fanfic

1 note · View note

Last Seen Blogs

bootielandd

Untitled

losttinwritings

Ellie

asknntnextgen

NNT/SDS Next Gen

lunalolligo

lunamadeline

unbridledstrength

Rise And Fall