Bucky’s Bklyn Doll

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Extensions and Pinch Hits

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If you are assigned as a pinch hit, you will have 2 weeks to write and post the part of fic you’re assigned.  

Bucky was good in bed. Everyone in the tower knew that by now because you weren’t exactly quiet. How could you be though? You had never been fucked this good in your life. You’ve truly been missing out. You’re making up for lost time with all those exes of yours and climbing on Bucky every chance you get. It got so bad that Tony actually soundproofed both of your rooms.

Of course, sometimes you didn’t make it to either of your rooms which caused you to be temporarily banned from that area “until further notice”

Bucky actually preferred to have you in one of your rooms, cause then he could see if he could make you scream any louder. One of these days he is actually going to split you in two. At least that’s how it felt.

Today was no different. Bucky had you faced down on the mattress, relentlessly pounding into you. His fingertips gripping your hips so hard they were surely going to leave permanent dents.

You were boneless. Sprawled over the mattress, your ass only now slightly in the air since your knees gave out. You were gone. As far as you were concerned right now, you were in space due to how many stars you were seeing. All you could do was moan and scream and let out the occasional heavy breath.

The soundproof system Tony built worked for the ears of the people on the outside. But there was a slight flaw. Some people just don’t think before entering.

You were too lost in pleasure to even process what was happening other than the feeling of Bucky’s thick, long cock buried deep between your thighs but you felt him slow down.

"OH MY GOD!" the intruder yelled.

“Can I help you?” you heard Bucky’s deep voice say with a tinge of irritation laced in it. You felt a cool piece of fabric get draped over your sweaty bare skin and a hand placed gently on your lower back to keep it from moving.

“Can you lock the door?” you heard the other person say but you still couldn’t tell who.

“The door was locked!”

“Bucky,” you whined, moving your hips against him.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, his other hand reaching to gently stroke your hair. His head snaps to the intruder, “Get out, Wilson!”

“You two need to calm down,” he said before rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

“Now” he started as he removed the sheet. He flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you, “Where were we?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. Bucky let out a deep chuckle at your neediness.

It started innocently enough that first morning back at the safehouse.

You and Steve had barely finished coffee when Bucky’s hand found your waist, tugging you back against his chest with that needy little whine already building in his throat.

“Missed you,” he murmured, lips brushing your neck.

But the way his hips rolled forward, hard and insistent against your ass, said more than words ever could.

Steve raised an eyebrow from across the kitchen, smirking, but didn’t stop him.

None of you could ever really stop Bucky when the hunger hit.

Within minutes, he had you both in the bedroom, clothes half-shoved aside because he couldn’t wait.

You ended up on your back with Bucky between your thighs, Steve’s hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, guiding him down.

The first slide of Bucky’s cock into you dragged a shattered moan from deep in his chest—raw, helpless, loud.

His head dropped to your shoulder, metal arm braced beside your head as he rocked forward again, another broken sound tearing free.

“F-fuck—so warm,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Missed this. Missed you squeezing me like that—ahh—”

He was already trembling, oversensitive from years of nothing but cold and silence.

Every thrust punched another cry out of him: high, needy whimpers when you clenched around him, guttural groans when Steve leaned down to bite at his shoulder.

Bucky tried to muffle himself against your neck, but it was useless.

He couldn’t stay quiet.

Not when you felt this good.

Not when Steve’s fingers joined the rhythm, pressing into him from behind and making Bucky’s whole body jerk.

You loved it.

Loved how he fell apart so easily now, how the Soldier’s control shattered the second pleasure touched him.

You rolled your hips up to meet him and Bucky sobbed, hips stuttering.

“Too much—please—don’t sop, don’t—”

Steve chuckled low, voice rough with affection.

“Easy, Buck. We’ve got you.”

By the time he came the first time—shaking, loud, spilling deep inside you with a wrecked shout that echoed off the walls—Bucky was already trying to catch his breath for round two.

He didn’t get it.

You and Steve traded a look and gently pinned him down instead, taking turns drawing more of those delicious sounds from him until he was a sweaty, oversensitive mess between you.

That was just breakfast.

By lunch, he was pulling you into the hallway closet like a man possessed.

“Just need a minute,” he lied, voice already breathy as he dropped to his knees.

His mouth was hot and eager, tongue working you open while he moaned around you like you were the one doing him a favor.

Every little hum and whimper vibrated through you until you were gripping his hair and coming with his name on your lips.

Bucky followed seconds later, untouched, grinding against your leg with a muffled cry.

Steve found you both there, flushed and half-dressed, and simply shook his head fondly before dragging you to the couch for round three.

Bucky rode him slow and filthy, head thrown back, moans pouring out unrestrained—Steve’s name, yours, curses in at least three languages.

The neighbors probably hated you.

None of you cared.

Afternoon found him cornering you in the laundry room while Steve was on a quick supply run.

Bucky bent you over the humming dryer, metal hand gentle on your hip even as his thrusts grew frantic.

“Can’t—fuck—can’t help it,” he panted against your ear, voice cracking on every other word. “Been empty for so long. Need you. Need to feel you—oh god—right there—”

He came so hard he nearly collapsed, legs shaking, loud enough that Steve heard him from the driveway and came running—only to join in the second he realized what was happening.

Evening blurred into night.

Dinner was abandoned halfway through when Bucky pulled you into his lap at the table, grinding you down with soft, desperate noises.

You ended up on the floor, Steve fucking into Bucky from behind while Bucky buried his face between your thighs, moaning and licking and whimpering the whole time.

Every time you praised him—

“Such a good boy, Buck, so loud for us, let us hear you.”

—he’d shudder and get even louder, until the room was filled with the wet sounds of sex and Bucky’s broken, beautiful cries.

Later, when the three of you finally collapsed into bed, tangled and sticky and sated (for now), Bucky curled between you like he belonged there.

His voice was hoarse from use, but he still whispered, almost shyly,

“Didn’t mean to be so… much.”

You kissed his temple, Steve’s hand stroking down his back.

“We love you like this,” you murmured. “Needy. Loud. Ours.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, a tiny needy sound escaping before he could stop it.

His cock twitched against your thigh, already half-hard again.

“Give us ten minutes,” Steve teased, grinning.

Bucky groaned, hiding his flushed face in your chest, but his hips rolled forward anyway.

“Can’t help itt,” he mumbled, voice muffled and already thickening with want. “Missed feeling alive.”

You smiled into his hair, fingers threading through Steve’s where they met over Bucky’s waist.

The Soldier had decades of silence to make up for.

Bucky stumbles into his small, shabby Bucharest outskirts apartment and slumps on the couch. His fingers already fumble with the zipper of his pants. He pulls himself out and starts fisting his cock with rough, tight strokes.

You have such large, pretty and innocent eyes. The most beautiful eyes he could imagine, looking up at him, while he fucks your mouth, his hand in your hair. He can almost hear the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Bucky groans and jerks faster, harder.

Thick, hot ropes of cum paint his stomach and he moans your name.  

“Damn,” he curses, reaching for the box of tissues with a sticky hand to wipe the mess off his stomach, and tugs himself back. His cock is still half-hard and pulsing when the doorbell rings.

Stiffly he shuffles to the door, opens it and freezes.

You’re wearing only a tight t-shirt and tiny sleepshorts. His eyes drop to the way your nipples press against the fabric and snap back up to your face. 

You blink through your lashes.

“Oh, don’t pretend,” you smile at him. “I know you like what you see.” Your gaze drifts down then back up again. “The walls here are paper thin, you know.”

But then the air shifted.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The low timbre wrapped in affection sounded stronger than the bass of the music.

You didn’t turn your head when Bucky Barnes took a seat, his thigh pressed against yours. You felt his eyes on you anyway, watchful and warmer than how he looked at everyone else. Some days you forgot that he was a dangerous man with power, reach, and a reputation.

My fiancé.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t betray the emotions swirling inside you.

“It’s time to come home,” he said.

Home.

“But I’m having such a good time,” you teased, finishing your drink in one gulp.

He snatched the glass from your hand and forced you to meet his gaze. Your breath caught. He was always handsome, but the trimmed beard was really doing it for you. And he was staring at you like he was a heartbeat away from spreading you out on the table and taking you right there.

He had waited long enough.

“It’s midnight,” he said, his breath brushing your lips. “Time’s up.”

You swallowed. One year. You asked for one year of freedom before you had to marry him, and he shockingly obliged. 

But you should’ve realized he’d know right where to find you tonight.

He never stopped watching you.

His expression softened. “Angel, come home with me.”

Your stomach flipped. “So it’s ‘angel’ now?”

“Well, I know you behaved during your year without me, so that’s pretty angelic,” he answered with a hint of possession. “But we can talk more about that at home.”

Talk. Plan the wedding. Become Mrs. Barnes.

Your fate was sealed.

This could be fun to expand on. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Drabble #1 - Unsolicited Advice Rating: General Audiences

“Does all that stuff not bother you, man?”

Bucky glanced at the excitable Mexican in the front seat, and pretended he hadn’t heard him. Unfortunately, that did not deter Luis.

“HYDRA, Thanos, the five year blip thing,” he continued. “The way Congress just chucked you out after you saved the whole of New York.”

Bucky closed his eyes briefly, and wondered how he always seemed to draw the mission short straw.

“That’s not really-"

“You know,” Luis carried on blithely. “My Abuela always said bad days are like dead rats. There’s always gonna be a couple in the garage.”

“What?”

Drabble #2 - Communication Is Key Rating: General Audiences

"Why the hell is it shouting like that?" Sam grimaced, as he dodged the batting paws of the small white feline.

"She's a girl, not an it." Bucky scolded, slapping Sam across the back of the head, "And she's not shouting, she's communicating with you."

Sam scoffed, "You're losing it man."

"I'm not." Bucky grunted, "It's a scientific fact that cats only learned to meow to communicate with humans."

"So what's shes saying then if you're so smart?" Sam grinned, crossing his arms over his chest with a raised brow.

"That you're annoying and to get out of her seat."

Drabble #3 - Dismantling History Rating: General Audiences

You dragged Bucky into the hall by his sleeve before he could drop another conversational grenade into the kitchen. He came without resistance, keeping that faintly offended look he got when he thought he’d done nothing wrong.

“You cannot tell Bob things like that,” you hissed

“Why not?” he asked.

“He’s not equipped for it.”

Bucky frowned. “It’s true.”

“I know.” You signed heavily

“Then what’s the problem?”

You stared at him. “The problem is you cannot casually dismantle someone’s entire understanding of history before lunch.”

He paused. “So… after lunch?”

"No." You rubbed your temple. “In supervised discussions only.”

Drabble #4 - Namesake Rating: General Audiences

"Don't wike bullies," little Steve grumbled, watching two kids argue over a swing, the bigger one posturing menacingly. "Don't care where they're from."

Bucky's blood ran cold. Then warm.

He crouched down, studying the dark brows, the classic Barnes nose, the complete unearned confidence of a six-year-old who'd never thrown a punch in his life, who would absolutely try to.

"Where'd you hear that?"

Steve shrugged. "Nowhere. S'true."

Eighty years of guilt, grief, making things complicated— and here was his first-born son, carrying Steve Rogers' words in his mouth like they weighed nothing at all.

Because to him, they didn't.

Drabble #5 – 100 Words Rating: Teen

“Okay, strange fact time. Go Buck,” you said. 

“Spanish moss is neither Spanish nor moss. It's a member of the pineapple family,” Bucky said without batting an eye. “Your turn.”

“Avocado tastes like clean dick.”

“That's not a fact that's an opinion.”

“It is fact. But whatever. Avocados were named after testicles because of the shape. Your turn.”

“A writing drabble is 100 words on the dot. No more no less.”

“Bullshit. It can be a few hundred words.”

“Look it up if you don't believe me,” he said with a smug grin.

You did. He was right. Yet again.

Drabble #6 - Survival Skills Rating: General Audiences

Bucky crouches beside a patch of mushrooms and gently brushes aside leaves like unveiling a masterpiece.

You fold your arms. “I thought this was survival training.”

“It is.”

He points at a big mushroom with white umbrella-shaped top. “This one you can eat without cooking, but this one,” he points at another one, “kills you faster than a bullet.”

“They are the same.”

“The poisonous one is slightly greenish.”

You crouch beside him, nodding solemnly.

“Let me teach you something, too,” you say as you lean over and kiss him.

Bucky freezes, swallowing hard.

“What was that?” 

“Mouth-to-mouth breathing lesson.”

Drabble #7 - One Good Punch Rating: Teen Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Bucky realises early that his Steve is all moral outrage and sharp elbows, with no self-preservation worth mentioning. So, after dragging him out of too many alleys, he teaches him how to throw one good punch.

“Stop aiming for his face,” Bucky says. “You’re too short and too angry. Ribs first, then run.”

Steve spits blood onto the pavement and nods.

The man Bucky has just pulled off him staggers upright, stupid enough to try again.

Steve's bony fist lands badly, beautifully.

The man goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Bucky stares.

“Don’t make me regret teaching you that.”

Drabble #8 – Housemate Barnes Rating: General Audiences

You and your housemates are excited to room with Congressman Barnes.

With the rent prices in D.C, it is no secret that junior representatives rent together.

All notions of him are wiped clean.

There are his questionable eating habits — cereal with yogurt and hot sauce,  spinach right out of the bag, and boiled hot dog and pasta with ketchup.

The common closet is full of his suits. You all agree not to question why.

But he is exceedingly considerate and generous.

Barnes is puzzling but this is a fact: Howling Commando, ex-Avenger, Congressman Barnes is a raccoon of a man.

Drabble #9 - Fair Rating: General Audiences

“You taught me how to throw a punch. It’s only fair to return the favour.”

Bucky eyed the shield dubiously. “Not sure it’s the same, pal.”

Steve demonstrated his new move, knocking the shield off two trees before it bounced back to him.

Bucky braced himself. He’d seen the Howlies pretend not to struggle under the shield’s weight. But it remained light in Bucky’s hands, same as it had ever since Zola.

It wasn’t fair. Steve’s serum made him a superhero while Bucky—

Bucky clamped down on that thought. He picked up Steve’s shield.

Life wasn’t fair; war doubly so.

Drabble #10 - Tie Your Shoes Rating: General Audiences

“Okay, Jamie. Take both shoelaces and cross them together.”

Jamie did so carefully. 

“Good. Now wrap this lace around and under the other and pull them together.”

Bucky’s son nodded. 

“Now we make a loop. Like a bunny ear.”

Jamie giggled. “Bunnies are soft.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, they are,” he agreed. “Wrap this around the bunny ear.”

“Am I doing good?” his son asked. 

“You’re going great,” he replied sincerely. “Now pull this lace through the hole there and pull them together.”

Jamie gasped. “I did it!”

“Proud of you, son.”

You smiled softly at Bucky.  

First of many lessons. 

Well, class, that's all the General Audience/Teen lessons we have for today. Make sure you head over to our Advanced/Explicit lesson (drabble) page for the final two installments if you're ready for those.

Otherwise, please head over for your Final Exam (aka, the poll) to tell us which three lessons were your favorites.

Voting will open until approximately 4pm on Friday, and we'll announce which authors win a brand-new shiny Cryofreeze!

Thanks for reading!

Drabble #11 - The Art of the Job Rating: Explicit for sexual themes

Bucky’s duffel was already packed by the door. 

You looked up at him with bright earnest eyes. “Please Buck, I want to. Teach me.”

You knelt between his thighs, cheeks burning, fingers softly curling around his thick, throbbing cock.

“Like this, doll,” he whispered, voice husky as he guided your strokes. “See how I’m leakin’? That’s all you, baby.”

You found your rhythm, and in turn, your confidence as you stroked Bucky’s hard cock. He threw his head back, groaning low, the muscles of his abdomen twitching. “Attagirl… fuck, just like that.”

War loomed, but tonight Bucky was all yours.

Drabble #12 - Tutorials In Precision Rating: Explicit for sexual themes

You’d expected a lot of things when you agreed your husband’s oldest friend should come spend the holidays, but not this: naked and splayed open, your back against Bucky’s chest, and Steve knelt between your legs, focus absolute as they took you apart.

Bucky’s lips moved against your neck, not quite kissing, hand sliding to cup one aching breast. “You want to feel for the ridge, the soft roof inside. Feel it?”

Steve nodded, learning by the tremors that rippled through you.

And you? You could only moan as his fingers found the place only Bucky had touched before tonight.

Well, class, that's all the Advanced/Explicit lessons we have for today. Make sure you head over to our General Audience/Teen lesson (drabble) page for the first ten installments if you're ready for those.

Otherwise, please head over for your Final Exam (aka, the poll) to tell us which three lessons were your favorites.

Voting will open until approximately 4pm on Friday, and we'll announce which authors win a brand-new shiny Cryofreeze!

Thanks for reading!