altestbee

for one, his cock is huge. the first time you took him you thought you would break. he was slow and gentle about it though, got you nice and lubed up and fucked you open on his fingers when he realized you couldn’t take it right away. rubbed your thighs with those big, rough hands of his in encouragement the whole time he eased in, inch by agonizing inch. since then you’ve gotten used to him, and thank god you did because now when he gives you all of him you see fucking stars. you can always expect to have an orgasm when he comes by. he fucks you so good, you almost wonder why he’s coming to an establishment like this in the first place.

the other thing that mystifies you is you’ve never heard his voice. not a groan, not a curse, nothing. you spend a lot of your time laying there imagining what he must sound like. every time he empties himself inside you (he never does it anywhere else) you’re always hoping this will be the time that he makes some noise for you.

and one day, he finally does.

it’s a weird day. you slept through your alarm and were late for your day job, you made a small screw up that your boss was particularly ornery about, and to top it all off you got a call from your dad right before walking into this seedy side gig of yours. you ended up unloading on him about your day and he called you “sweetheart” in that sympathetic dad voice of his. it made you feel a little guilty. a little gross. you ultimately tell yourself that you’re an adult who needs to pay rent, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

it’s a damn relief that your favorite regular eventually shows up. you could use the release after the stressful day you had. and he gives it to you, multiple times. he’s really hogging you tonight, making you cum on his fingers and his cock like this is more about your pleasure than his. it’s like he knows your body so well that he can feel the tension of the day wound up in it.

with all those orgasms he’s given you, you’re extra sensitive. extra wet. he’s stretching you around his cock so good and hitting that spot inside you with such force that you know this next one is going to be different. he spits down on your pussy, stroke never faltering as he begins rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. you’ve never squirted before but you’ve heard enough about them to know this feeling.

he pulls out when you do it. plays with your cunt and strokes himself as you gush. you make such a mess that you can hear it splashing down onto the floor below. it’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, pleasure wrung from your body so throughly that you feel you should emerge from the wall and thank him.

through the haze of your aftershocks, you hear his voice for the first time. gruff, encouraging, a little proud.

fatherly.

“that’s it, sweetheart. good job.”

your stomach lurches with an all-consuming, abject horror.

No one ever saw it coming, but Bucky Barnes was the picture of a perfect partner. Everyone around him knew better than to get between him and his girlfriend. To say he was in love with you was an understatement—no.

He was hopelessly devoted to you. Utterly and completely.

Despite the rough glares, the deep voice, the intimidating stature, and the whole ex-brainwashed-assassin thing, he was a total softie when it came to you. It was like taking a big, brooding Bucky Barnes, tossing him into a blender, and turning him into pure, warm mush you could drink right up.

He was clingy in the sweetest way possible. He was always close, always there for you when you needed him. He gave you the softest kisses known to mankind. He spoiled you endlessly, told you every day how beautiful you were, and made sure you never once forgot how special you were to him.

Bucky loved you. You knew that for a fact. He was good at showing it.

Except there was one problem.

Aside from all the kisses and cuddles, he never took things any further. You both had been together for a few good months now, and not once had the two of you had sex.

There were moments—more than a few—when his body gave him away with a hard-on. When you were tangled up in bed, or curled together on the couch, you felt the way his body reacted to you. When you would try to slip your hand lower, thinking maybe it’ll get somewhere, he would gently catch your wrist and say “No, sweetheart. Not yet.”

After that, you stopped making the first move. You let him set the pace for his comfort. But as the weeks stretched into months, the harder it became to ignore the feeling of insecurity creeping in.

It wasn’t like he never gave you signals. He had bought you lingerie and suggestive pajamas to wear to bed more than once. And every time you slipped them on, you told yourself, “this is it. Tonight’s the night!”

But then… it never was.

You respected his boundaries—of course you did. You loved Bucky, deeply. And you would never push him into something he wasn’t ready for. You told yourself over and over that love wasn’t measured by sex, and that what you had was still something beautiful and real.

But that didn’t make the selfish, insecure ache go away.

Because sometimes, when the lights were out and Bucky was sound asleep beside you, those stubborn thoughts crept in anyway. Ugly, unwelcomed whispers that made you wonder if maybe… you weren’t what he wanted in that way.

That perhaps, you weren’t enough to make him want you like that.

You tried to shove the feeling down, to remind yourself that the way he held you, looked at you, and loved you meant more than anything else. But it was hard to silence that insecure part of you that just wanted to feel desired—not just loved, but wanted.

Eventually, you realized you couldn’t keep pretending the feeling wasn’t there. The weight of the feeling was too damn heavy on your chest, only growing heavier each night he refuses to touch you.

You loved Bucky. God, you loved him more more than anything. And you trusted him enough to know this wasn’t something you could just bury and let fester. You’d done your research—most couples fall apart over financial strain or intimacy issues. For you, it wasn’t just about sex. It was about the self-esteem that came with it.

You didn’t understand. How could he be so loving, affectionate, and clingy, with clear physical signs of being aroused by you, yet still refuse to take things any further? There had to be something deeper he wasn’t telling you.

So, you made the rational choice to talk to him—because communication was vital in a relationship.

The two of you were curled up together on the couch, your legs draped over his, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. His thumb drew soft circles against your skin, and for a second, you almost lost your nerve—because there it was.

That damn erection pressing subtly against your thigh, the one he always deliberately ignored.

“Bucky,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, turning his head slightly toward you. That gentle, half-asleep smile of his nearly made you want to drop the idea of confrontation all together.

But you persevered. “Can we talk about something?”

That got his attention.

He straightened slightly, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. “Yeah. ‘Course. What’s goin’ on?”

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, heart beating a little too fast. “I don’t want you to think I’m upset with you,” you began carefully. “I love you. And I respect your boundaries. Always.”

His brows furrowed together, just a little—as if he already knew where this was headed but didn’t like it.

“But,” you continued softly, “I need to be honest with you. It’s getting a little hard for me. Not because I want to pressure you—never that—but because…” you hesitated, teeth catching your bottom lip. “Because sometimes it makes me feel like I’m not wanted. At least not… in a sexual way.”

There was a quiet pause, and every second that ticked by felt like it was crushing your lungs. You didn’t even want to meet his eyes—too scared of what might come out of his mouth.

The silence drowned you. Would he finally admit that he just didn’t find you attractive enough?

“What? Baby, no,” Bucky said finally, shaking his head hard. “That’s not—”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard like he was trying to compose himself. “I don’t want you to ever think that. You’re everything to me.”

But his voice was shaky, his gaze flicking away from you for a second too long. All little things, but enough to make you anxious.

“Then why…” you trailed off, trying to steady your own voice. “Why does it feel like you don’t want me?”

His jaw clenched, and you could feel his hand squeeze slightly against your arms before softening again. “It’s not like that. I just—” he let out a small, forced awkward laugh that didn’t meet his eyes. “Can we not do this right now?”

Your heart squeezed a little. Not because he was being mean, but because you could see the way he was retreating—like a door slowly closing before you could get a foot in.

“Bucky,” you pushed. “I need you to be honest with me. I’m not trying to push you into anything. But I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t affect me. I… I just want to understand.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” you asked bluntly—not as an accusation, but as a plea for the truth.

Bucky’s breath hitched. He finally looked up, lips parting like he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

“I…” he faltered, his hands flexing against your waist before falling away completely. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He let out a shaky breath. “It’s the opposite, actually.”

You tilted your head slightly, confused.

He dragged a hand down his face, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to put his feelings into words. Finally, in a hoarse whisper, he admitted softly.

“I’m scared I won’t be able to control myself.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders tense and jaw tight. “You don’t get it,” he continued, voice so low it was like he was talking more to himself than to you. “When it comes to you, it’s… different. It’s not just wanting you—it’s needing you. I mean, just look at you—”

His eyes flicked up, skimming over your face, down your body, then back to your eyes with a raw honesty that made your breath catch. “You’re this soft, fragile little thing. If I make love to you, I wouldn’t want to hold back.”

Bucky looked into your eyes like he was pleading you to understand—and you did. You did understand. But under the weight of his confession, a spark stirred in your chest. A stubborn, competitive fire. Because you loved Bucky—all of him. Which meant you wanted to take… all of him, even the parts he thought you couldn’t handle.

You inhaled slowly, scooting a little closer to him. “Then… what if we set a boundary?”

He gave you a questioning look. “What?”

“A safe word,” you explained carefully. “Something that we can use if it gets too intense—if either of us wants to stop.”

You thought it was a good idea, and expected Bucky to be on the same page. But he sucked in a breath, his brows furrowing together in that familiar expression—one you knew meant he wasn’t fond of the suggestion.

“I’m serious,” you said, gently reaching for his hand. He didn’t pull away, but his fingers twitched against yours, still unsure. “I trust you, Bucky. More than anyone. And I want you to trust yourself, too. We can set the pace, we can stop whenever you want. If you feel like it’s too much—just say the word, and it’s over. No guilt. No pressure.”

He bit his bottom lip, his silence making you more anxious.

“You think it’s that easy?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t think it’s easy,” you shrugged, trailing your hand down to his, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. “I think it’s a start.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, the sound rough. He looked down at your joined hands with a small pout that made your chest ache. “I don’t know if I can follow that,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I don’t know if I can trust myself to stop once I start.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words, before finally asking, “But… is having sex with me something you want?”

Bucky’s gaze softened, a mix of frustration and longing. He didn’t need to think about it before answering, his voice rough but honest as he looked you square in the eye. “More than anything.”

Despite everything, you believed him. There was nothing more to say, so you let it go.

Since that night, though, you couldn't help but tease him. You knew it wasn’t exactly fair, but you needed to feel something—that spark, that connection, that heat between you. So, you started to frequently wear those slutty pajamas he bought you—lingerie so barely there you might as well have been naked. You would purposefully linger just a little too long when your hand brushed against his leg, letting your fingers trail down his thigh, knowing full well what it did to him.

You would snuggle closer on the couch, wiggling so your body pressed up against his, feeling his muscles tense as you did. And when you bent over—whether to pick something up or just move around—your hips would sway a little too much, your body just a little too close to his.

The little acts were almost unconscious—more instinct than strategy, really. But they were all worked without fail. You could feel that tension from him more than ever. His body would stiffen up, his usually bright puppy eyes would darken with slightly, and his jaw would clench in a sexually frustrated away.

As the days dragged on, you had noticed how much more on edge he seemed recently. Usually when you climbed into bed in your slutty pajamas, he'd welcome you and shower you in compliments. But tonight, his blanket was pulled up to his nose, his back turned squarely toward you.

“Are you calling it an early night?” you frowned, crawling onto the mattress beside him.

He mumbled something under the covers that you couldn’t quite make out. You lifted the blanket, slid underneath beside him, and felt him instantly tense up. With a soft, sleepy sigh, you wrapped your arms around his waist, settling your hands on his lower stomach as you spooned him from behind.

He immediately shuddered at your touch.

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, nose pressed into his shirt, inhaling his scent.

“F-fine,” he grunted.

The contrast between your usually soft and puppy-eyed boyfriend and this pent-up, grumpy mess was amusing. Your hands subtly trailed lower, brushing the crotch of his sweatpants. He shuddered again, but didn’t pull away—he never did.

“Don’t you want to see what I’m wearing? I'm wearing one of the little night slips you bought me,” you asked softly and innocently from behind.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Baby…”

Your hands trailed lower, your fingertips barely grazing the straining bulge beneath his sweatpants. God, he was rock hard, just the small graze of your fingertips made his hips buck and his cock twitch instinctively.

A low groan rumbled from his chest, and his eyes fluttered shut. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “If we were to set a safe word, what should it be?”

You couldn't help the small smile that curved your lips as you gave his clothed cock a subtle squeeze that made him gasp. “Well, if we’re speaking in theoretics, it should be ‘Brooklyn.’”

Your hands hovered just above him, expecting him to use the word, but he remained silent.

Instead, he took in a deep, shaky inhale. “Okay.”

Your hands slowly dropped back onto his cock, and he immediately twitched and throbbed beneath your touch. Your thumb grazed the outline of his head, and as you moved your fingertips, you felt something cool and slick.

He was leaking.

You grinned, though he couldn’t see it. “How was your day, baby?” you asked innocently, the question sounding almost taunting.

“G-good,” he muttered, subtly rocking his hips into your hand. “So... good.”

“That’s good,” you murmured, keeping your palm heavy and still against his cock. “I missed you today. I just stayed home and cleaned. I was wearing this night slip you got me. It’s so comfortable, it feels like I’m wearing nothing.”

His breath hitched. He could already picture it—you bending over to clean and pick up items, looking domestic yet tempting in that skimpy little dress. He could picture it clearly because you had been doing exactly that these past few days—purposefully teasing, purposefully taunting. Now, with your palm still against him, you were testing the last of his patience. His hips began to rock more suddenly and deeply, his cock aching for friction. He told himself he wasn’t going to lose control. He tried to convince himself that this act alone was enough for him.

As long as he didn't turn around and look at you—wearing that flimsy dress with your perky chest visible, your ass exposed—then he was safe.

All he had to do was not look at you.

“Fuck,” he swallowed hard. “Did you now?” he questioned, clearly trying to distract himself from your touch.

His cock was growing heavy and hot beneath your touch, and with the aggressive way his hips were rocking into your palm, you couldn't help but increase the pressure. “Mhm,” you drawled. “I was being very good today.”

His jaw clenched as he tried to compose himself, his back shuddering as your hand worked him greedily. “Yeah?” he breathed, straining the word out. “You were being a good girl?”

You let out a soft little whine at the nickname, your legs clenching together to soothe the warmth creeping between your thighs. Then, you lifted your leg, draping it lazily over his, pressing yourself impossibly closer so that your breast pushed against his broad back.

You peeked over his shoulder, his hands were fisted in the sheets. You knew you were being selfish, taunting him like this—but you couldn't help it. You wanted to see him break, and the cracks were becoming more and more visible.

“Bucky,” you whined, your free hand coming up to caress the soft strands of his hair. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The stark contrast between your soft, gentle caress on his hair and your greedy hand working his erection made it impossible for him to think. His mind was spinning with one thing only: to take you.

But he wasn't going to look at you. He made sure of it.

“Don’t you want to see how I look?” you pouted, squeezing your legs more tightly against his.

He took in a deep, steady breath before responding. “I’m sure you look beautiful, baby.”

“How do you know if you haven’t even looked at me?”

“Baby,” Bucky warned, his voice rough and demanding. “Don’t test me right now. I’m trying so hard to be a good, respectful man, but I—oh, fuck!” He moaned as your palm worked faster on his cock, giving it a subtle squeeze as you pumped him through his sweatpants. “Shit, baby. You better fucking stop right now or I’ll—”

“Stop what?” you cooed innocently, your head resting on his shoulder as you stroked him from behind. “I’m not doing anything bad, am I?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Don’t push it, honey. I mean it.” But despite his warnings, he had yet to say the established safe word. “Fuck—stop.”

You gasped softly, your teasing posture deflating a little with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, you mean it? Okay, okay. If my good, respectful boyfriend is feeling threatened by my hand, I definitely wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You deliberately pulled your hand away, leaving his heavy, throbbing erection alone in the confines of his sweatpants. You even slid your draped leg off his, and the absence of your warmth made his hips spasm once, sharp and frustrated.

You paused, waiting to see if he would finally give in. When his shoulders remained tense and his body stayed still, you let out a long, disappointed exhale. Without another word, you turned back around so that both your backs faced each other.

Even though he hadn’t said ‘Brooklyn,’ you still didn’t want to risk pushing him further. You had never reached this point in your relationship where he sounded genuinely frustrated and pent up. You couldn't tell if his reaction was solely sexual frustration, or if he was actually upset.

Either way, you didn't want to gamble with the possibility of upsetting him.

You had tried. You had been trying for days, and now, you were done. Suddenly, the skimpy night slip felt like an insult to your pride and self-esteem. You pulled the blanket over your body with a shuddering sigh—a sound Bucky definitely heard.

A long, tense silence stretched between you. Both of you were completely still and neither of you dared to move. You wanted to speak up, maybe ask if you had gone too far—but Bucky was so damn quiet, you convinced yourself he had already fallen asleep.

Then, he spoke up first.

“Are you okay?”

You snuggled deeper into the mattress, trying to hide yourself even though he wasn't looking at you. “I’m okay.”

There was another pause, and you thought that would be the end of it. Then, you heard shuffling behind you. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into soft fabric and a wall of muscle. Bucky’s warm arm curled tightly around your body and pulled you flush against him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into your ear. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Despite the sincerity and softness in his voice, you immediately felt his erection press against you underneath the blankets. You swallowed hard.

“You didn’t upset me, Bucky,” you explained softly, keeping your body still. “I just... I don’t want to push you or force you into something you’re not ready for. But I can’t lie and say it doesn't hurt, you know?”

You felt him stiffen behind you, his arms tightening around you just slightly. “It’s not that I’m not ready,” he explained gruffly, his voice deep and raspy. “I can take you right here, fuck. I want to take you right here—but I won’t, because I know you’re not ready.”

His hand rested heavily on your hip, his thumb circling slow patterns over the fabric of the gown as he spoke. You knitted your brows, glancing over your shoulder at him with a confused look. “What do you mean I’m not ready? I’ve been ready for a long time now.”

“I’m saying, if I pulled the blankets off you and saw you right now—wearing that slutty little dress—I’d flip that gown up and fuck you right through the mattress,” his grip on your hip tightened, his voice a low growl. “I want to, baby. I want you so badly, but I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, turning completely around to face him. He had to clench his jaw to compose himself. “I’ve told you this before. You can’t hurt me.”

“Jesus, baby. You’re not understanding me,” he grunted, his hungry eyes slowly wandering down your throat to your collarbone. “You’ll be a crying mess. You’ll be begging me to slow down, and I won’t be able to stop.”

His warnings should have scared you, but they only made you shamelessly wetter.

You bit your bottom lip, and you felt his cock twitch against your leg at the sight of your face. “Well… it’s a good thing we established a safe word, right?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I told you. Safe words are unreliable—”

But before he could finish his sentence, his words died in his throat as you slowly lifted the blanket, finally revealing yourself to him. The sight of the thin night slip clinging onto your curves, the strap falling down your bare shoulder, and the curve of your breasts poking through the fabric made his throat go completely dry.

“Fuck,” he grunted quietly—the word slipping out before he could stop it.

“Bucky, please. I can take it,” you reassured, holding his gaze. “I want to feel you make love to me. I want to feel every inch of you. I don’t want you to hold back. I can take it. Please.”

He let out a shaky exhale as his eyes fluttered shut, forcing himself to look away. You could tell it was taking everything in him to keep it together—but you also knew that just one more push could break him open completely.

So, you grabbed his hand and placed it back onto your hip, scooting even closer and batting your eyelashes up at him.

“I need you, Bucky,” you whined. “I need you so badly—it hurts. Please give yourself to me.”

His eyes fluttered open, and it was like something in him snapped. His eyes lost that usual soft, puppy-eyed glow and were replaced with something darker, hungrier. His gaze wandered down your body with a shaky breath, and as his eyes took in your whole form—vulnerable and inviting right in front of him—he couldn't hold back anymore.

He sat up abruptly, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers and yanking them down past his hips. His cock sprang free, heavy and hard, slapping against his stomach.

“I’ve been trying to be a good man—a good partner for you,” he snarled, his eyes burning with desire.

His free hand wrapped around his erection, pumping himself slowly and deeply. You watched, completely captivated, as his thumb rubbed the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum.

“I’ve been doing so fucking good—holding out for months, trying to resist you. But fuck, you’re testing my patience, baby girl.”

“You asked for it,” he didn't ask or plead—he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly sound you barely recognized. His hand pushed the hem of your night slip up past your hip. “You told me not to hold back. Fine. I won’t.”

His lustful eyes wandered down your body, where your bare thighs lay exposed and the night slip was bunched messily around your waist. His gaze took you in completely—and you felt small and defenseless beneath his heavy presence. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a low groan slipping from his throat as he admired you.

“Damn, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick. “I was right. You look fucking beautiful in this tiny dress.”

His fingertips caught the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in one swift tug past your legs and tossing them carelessly onto the floor. With rough hands, he gripped your legs and spread them wide—baring your wet slit to his ravenous eyes.

Despite being together for a few months, this was the first time you two saw each other completely bare, intimate, and vulnerable. All you could do was lay there mesmerized by the sheer size of him. He was big and hard in a way that should have scared you, and maybe he was right, maybe you wouldn't be able to handle him. But with your man hovering above you, practically panting at the sight of you—radiating an overwhelming need to claim you—you were determined to take every inch of him.

Bucky must have noticed your hesitation, because a smug grin tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he taunted, fisting his cock in his hands. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His grip on your thigh tightened as he positioned his cock against your entrance, rubbing his tip up and down against your wet folds. You shuddered as he coated himself with your arousal, and you let out a shocked gasp as the tip of his cock probed and caught against your entrance before he pulled it back to rub against your slit again.

“Christ, baby…” he groaned, his cock purposefully catching on your entrance again before retreating. “You’re so damn wet. It would be so easy to just slip it in... to slam all the way in.”

Your legs instinctively tightened around his waist, gripping the bedsheets as if bracing yourself. “I-I’m ready, Bucky…”

A mocking and almost cruel laugh escaped his lips. He shook his head, probing his tip at your entrance again. “You’re not ready,” he rasped. “You’ll never be ready to take me—but it’s okay. I’m still a good man, a good boyfriend for you, aren’t I? I’m so good, I’ll even help you…” he slowly pushed the tip past your entrance, “… ease into it.”

A small whine escaped your lips as you felt his tip slip inside you. It was only the head of his cock, but it was enough to make your walls flutter tightly around him, subconsciously trying to invite him even deeper.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut with all the restraint left in the world as he stilled his hips. “You’re so fucking tight, and that’s just the tip, baby…”

“Please…” you whined, “give me more.”

Bucky groaned—almost in frustration—as his hips slowly began to rock back and forth, fucking you with just the tip of his cock. You moaned beneath him, your back arching as you tried to subtly move your hips against his, attempting to push yourself deeper onto him.

“Oh, fuck, Bucky…!” you let out another moan as you pushed onto him, pulling more of his thick cock to stretch you out. It was more than just the tip, and not nearly halfway up his shaft, but it was enough to make your legs shake.

“Fuck… you greedy little slut,” he groaned, his hands finding your hips and tightening to keep you still. “You’re so fucking greedy, trying to take all of me already.”

His hips started to move as he held you still, fucking you with only what was already inside you and refusing to slam all the way in. The stretch burned, but it felt way too damn good. He was so big, stretching you full, and this wasn't even all of him.

Bucky gritted his teeth as he watched you whimper and whine beneath him. You were so tight your walls were clamping down on him, making it hard for him to move. He knew his size was hurting you, but how could he pull away when you were writhing beneath him so cutely?

Pleading for more when you could barely take what he had given you so far?

“What’s wrong, baby?” he cooed, leaning down to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes…” you shuddered. “I wanted this… I can take it—oh, fuck!”

You squeezed your eyes shut as he began to push in deeper. Your wetness only made it easier for him to slide in. A low, raspy groan rumbled from his chest as he tossed his head back in pleasure, finally feeling your tight walls stretching around his cock.

He paused just before he hit the base. “Fuck, baby! God, you’re so fucking tight…” he breathed. “I need to put it all in, okay?”

Just as he was about to move his hips, he saw your eyes squeeze shut again as you braced yourself. “No,” he snarled, his voice dropping low as one hand cupped your face, shaking your head lightly. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, baby. You’re going to keep them open while I stuff the rest of my cock in your pussy. You wanted this, doll. So you’re going to get it.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyes glossy from tears. You looked up, and your once gentle, loving boyfriend was staring down at you like you were his prey. It was a dark, hungry gaze, as if the only thing he wanted to do was claim you, ruin you until your body was branded as his.

“I… I can take it,” you sniffled.

He smiled, a dark, wicked curve of his lips. He drew his hips back until only the tip remained inside you. He then lifted your thighs slightly, spreading you even wider for him, before he slammed forward until the base of his cock was buried deep inside you.

“Ohhh… fuck!” he groaned, letting himself be fully buried before immediately grounding his hips, rocking himself slowly against you.

Your back arched off the bed, eyes instinctively squeezing shut as he shoved the rest of his thick cock deep inside. As his hips rocked, you felt every pulsing ridge of him, and your walls clamped down on him, struggling to accommodate his large size. To say it didn't hurt was an understatement, but you were fiercely determined to take him. You wanted to prove to your boyfriend that you could be a good girl and take every last inch like you said you would.

“... Bucky!” you gasped. “T-too much… be slow, okay?”

He snarled as he leaned over you, the heavy weight of his body completely pressing down on yours. His flesh hand slid through the strands of your hair, giving it a rough tug. You winced, your eyes shooting open.

“That’s it. Look at me,” he demanded, grounding his hips against yours.

He moaned softly as he fucked himself into you. His vibranium fingers rested coolly on your hip, and you shivered at the touch despite the warmth of his body pressing down on yours. You let out a cry as he gave you one sharp, sudden thrust, your head tossing back before his grip on your hair went tighter, forcing your gaze to steady on his.

“I-I said to slow down…” you swallowed. “Y-you’re too—”

“Too big, am I?” he smiled, and it wasn’t the usual soft smile he’d give you. No. This smile was mocking, almost condescending. “I know I’m too big. But I warned you, baby. I told you you were this small little thing…” another sharp thrust that made you gasp, “... so small you can’t even take all of me.”

You tried wiggling around, attempting to make yourself comfortable—though it was futile. And the slight shifts and movements only made his cock throb harder inside you, each friction-filled rub making his shaft twitch with pleasure.

“Fuck… so… s-so small, so tiny and tight,” he grunted, his hips moving faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he continued to belittle you. “Thinkin’ you can take all of me… but look at you—you’re a crying, whimpering little mess.”

Bucky had never spoken to you this way. He always showered you with praise and soft words, but the sheer condescension in his voice now only made you wetter, driving an undeniable craving for more.

“M-more,” you begged despite your weak voice and legs trembling around his waist. “More… please—”

“Yeah?” he laughed, the sound sharp and disbelieving. “You want more?”

Before you could reply, his grip on your hair and waist tightened. His body fully enveloped yours, and he began pounding into you, hard and fast. You cried out, your hands desperately clutching his back as you cursed and babbled his name—but he didn't slow down for a second.

“Fuck—so fucking good, baby girl,” he groaned. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to do this…” He tilted his head down, pressing soft kisses to your neck that starkly contrasted the brutal, relentless pounding of his hips. “To grab you from behind every time you’re cleaning…” another kiss, “...throw you down on the floor and fuck you until you cry, until your throat’s raw from screaming my name.”

You were doing exactly that.

Tears welled in your eyes as he fucked you hard and deep. “Bucky!”

“Yes,” he breathed heavily. “Scream my name.”

“B-Bucky, oh my god—it’s too—I…”

“Shit, what a babbling little mess you are.”

He nuzzled his face in your neck, eagerly sucking, leaving filthy, bruising marks along your sensitive column. He was fucking you so hard and deep, mumbling dirty words into your neck—sounds you could barely distinguish over the frantic slap of skin, your own desperate moans, and the creaking of the bed beneath his assault.

Your head spun with overwhelming desire, and the moment his hand released your hair and trailed down between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive clit, you knew it was over. Your eyes widened at the overwhelming sensation, and your walls clenched down on his cock, tighter than ever, as you felt yourself coming undone.

“B-baby!” you gasped, clinging to him desperately. “I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna cum, baby? Already?” he taunted, though his fingers never faltered in their relentless, merciless movement.

“Bucky… please, fuck, I’m going to come—it feels too good. Oh my god!” you gasped.

He sat up, his arms sweeping under your thighs, lifting them and folding you nearly in half. Your legs trembled, suspended in the air, while he slammed into you—deeper than before—in that punishing position.

You cried out his name, “Bucky! Oh my god—please, I can’t—”

“You can,” he grunted, his voice commanding, “and you will.”

He fucked into you, harder and deeper, indecent noises and rough words spilling from his lips in a relentless litany of lust. You felt him throb and pulse deep inside. Even through the haze, you knew he was close, too, but he wouldn’t let himself go. Not until you did.

“Fuck—come for me, baby. Now,” he demanded, the words hard and mean. “What the hell are you waiting for, sweetheart? Trying to hold out for me?”

“N-no, I…” you blubbered, his cruel, deprecating words sending an agonizing jolt of lust through your entire body.

His words alone were the final push. Your legs trembled, your eyes still wet with tears of pleasure and pain as you screamed his name. You clamped down on him, hard enough to wrench a loud groan from his chest, and came all over his cock.

“Fuck! Jesus, baby…” he snarled.

Bucky’s hips tried to continue their relentless rhythm, but he was forced to still because your inner walls were so unbearably tight. You panted and sniffled beneath him, trying to close and relax your legs, but he held them rigidly in place.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“… tired,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he smiled again, and this time it was with a softer adoration—his grin almost boyish. “You’re sleepy?”

You nodded.

He tilted his head, that soft admiration gleaming in his eyes. “But I haven't come yet, baby.” His free hand gently trailed to your cheek, wiping the tears away. “You’re not going to leave your boyfriend high and dry now, are you?”

“B-but…” you panted, your legs shaking uncontrollably. “I don’t think I can—”

His fingers cupped your cheeks, squeezing them to silence you. “Baby,” he warned, “I told you I couldn’t hold myself back once I started.” He then pulled his cock out slowly, the loud, wet sound of your arousal filling your ears as your face instantly warmed with embarrassment.

Before you could protest, he grabbed your hips with strong hands, hauling and flipping your body until your stomach hit the mattress with a soft thud. You yelped as his hands gripped your waist, hiking your hips and presenting your backside bare for him.

“We’re not done,” he grunted from behind you, grabbing his cock and positioning the head at your entrance for round two. “Not until I come.”

“Bucky, I—” your words died in your throat as he drove into you again in one fluid motion, filling you completely.

The stretch burned even more than before, and your cunt, overwhelmingly sensitive, forced you to bury your face into the pillows. Your hands squeezed the fabric as you arched your back, taking every painful inch of him again.

“Oh my god! T-too much…”

“But it feels so good, doesn’t it?” he moaned, fucking you deep. “Tell me how good it feels, baby…”

You were a babbling, drooling mess, barely able to form words, staining the pillows with your tears.

Bucky let out a disapproving sound from behind. His hand slunk around your waist, his finger pressing against your clit and rubbing it in rough, merciless circles. Your whole body convulsed at the sensation, utterly overstimulated as you shook and trembled. Bucky’s vibranium arm circled around your body, the metallic coolness making you tense up as he pulled your hips back and forced you to hold still.

“Tell me, baby,” he demanded, his voice raspy.

You tried to answer, you truly did, but only a ragged gasp escaped. Your eyes were fluttering, and your body trembled violently in his hold. He held you tighter, leaning down to bite softly on your bare shoulder.

“Fuck... I’m gonna cum, baby,” he moaned, his movements growing sloppy and desperate, losing all rhythm. “Christ, it feels so good, doesn’t it? You can’t even say anything because you’re so—fuck, so drunk on my cock... can’t even think straight either, can you?”

Your inner walls clenched and pulsed around his cock at his taunts, and the sensation shattered what little control Bucky had left. He gave you one final, rough thrust, his cock burying deep inside you as he let himself come undone, making your whole body jerk. Even as he held you impossibly full, his fingers never stopped their merciless pacing.

You were so stuffed with him, unable to form a single coherent thought. You weren’t sure how much you could take. He began to rock his hips again, a slow, agonizing grind against your overstimulated flesh.

“Yes, yes—you’re taking me so well, baby girl. Fuck, my cum is buried so deep—”

“...B-brook…”

His hips stilled.

His hands paused.

He held his breath, his face still pressed against your shoulder.

“W-what was that?” he rasped, waiting.

“... Brooklyn.”

The word broke him instantly.

Bucky snatched his hand from your clit and yanked his throbbing cock out in one urgent motion. A small, vulnerable whimper escaped you at the sudden, aching loss. His vibranium arm was quick and soft, turning you over. In the next moment, he had pulled you flush against his chest, both large arms wrapping tightly around your trembling body.

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice dry and thick with remorse.

He looked down to see your tear-streaked face and felt a sharp clench in his heart. His eyes drifted to your neck, the soft skin now riddled with dark, bruising marks left in his wake. He let out a shuddering breath, overwhelmed by the sight of you—utterly ruined by his intensity.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the curse directed only at himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to go that far. Are you okay? Shit…”

Your body shook, and your heart clenched at the sound of his distress.

You knew Bucky would never hurt you intentionally, but the overwhelming sensations left you physically weak. And truthfully, despite the intensity, it was the most mind-blowing sex you'd ever had.

“That was… good,” you managed quietly, your voice shaky and breathless.

He frowned down at you. “Good? Baby, how can you say that?” his voice wavered. “I… I hurt you…”

His thumb brushed the corner of your eye, wiping the wetness away. With a trembling arm, you lifted your hand, gently wrapping it around his wrist as you looked up at him.

“No… it was good,” you repeated with a breathless laugh, realizing how unconvincing you sounded. “It was good, Bucky, it was just… a lot for me, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, dropping to your hand wrapped around his wrist. He continued to soothe your cheek with his thumb. “I told you we shouldn’t have…” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t have done this. I’m so sorry.”

“Bucky, stop apologizing,” you cooed gently, tilting your head up to press a messy, sluggish kiss to his lips. “It’s okay. You didn't hurt me.”

“Honey, look at you. You’re covered in…” he made a face, ashamed of himself. “… hickeys. And your hair’s a mess.” He raised his hand, trying to smooth the strands down.

“Bucky,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand and meeting his gaze. “Stop. I’m okay, baby.”

You gently moved his hands away from your hair and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. He let out a ragged sigh at the feel of your lips. “It was good. Really good,” you continued, your voice shaky but sincere. “And I want to do it again, and again, and again. More times than I can count. I just needed a little break, okay?”

He pursed his lips, clearly wanting to argue, but he held back. He looked deep into your eyes before nodding quietly. “Okay,” he repeated, but the word was strained, as if he were trying to ground himself. “Okay. I understand.”

A long pause followed—a silent moment where you two simply stared into each other’s eyes. He occasionally leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek, his finger dragging over your face reassuringly and gently, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, and he hadn’t completely ruined you just moments ago.

“I know you said it was okay,” he whispered. “But I still feel like shit for losing control.”

You gave him a tired smile, your hands rising to cup his cheek. “But you listened to the safe word,” you pointed out. “You stopped the minute I muttered it, and you were just over here telling me that safe words were ‘unreliable.’”

He exhaled, breath shaky. “I know. As good as it felt, I didn’t want to hurt you. God. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft, slightly wet kiss directly to his lips—a gesture that held none of the rough lovemaking and only pure, quiet affection. “I know that, Bucky. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He looked down at the state of the night slip, now messily bunched around your waist with the strap falling loose from your shoulder. Your hair was disheveled, your neck was marked with bruises from his lips—and yet, to Bucky, you were the most beautiful and precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.

“This…” his fingertips fiddled lightly with the lace hem. “This dress is very dangerous.”

You smiled. “You were the one that bought it for me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh.

“I know. And all I had to do was not look at you.”

thank you for reading <3