Shell’s Journal

Spooning you in bed, his arm curled around your waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of your neck. His hand, resting innocently on your thigh, begins to move. Slow at first—just the lazy drag of his fingertips along your skin, barely noticeable, like he’s tracing the shape of your body from memory.

But then it shifts. Higher. Bolder.

Over the swell of your hip, the curve of your ass—his touch deliberate now, possessive. You bite your lip, heat already pooling low in your stomach.

And then he does it. Rolls his hips against you just enough for you to feel him—hard and heavy through the thin fabric of his boxers, pressing perfectly into the curve of your ass.

It’s too perfect. The kind of pressure that makes your breath catch, your thighs clench involuntarily.

You whimper. Quiet. Needy.

That’s when he moves his hand again. Slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and teasing, fingers grazing over your slick heat like he’s testing you—barely touching, just enough to make you ache.

“You’re already wet,” he murmurs against your neck, voice thick and low. “Were you hoping I’d do this?”

You don’t answer—not with words.

Just a soft, pathetic little whimper, your body already arching back into him, desperate for more of his touch.

But instead of giving it to you, Bucky pulls his hand away.

You whine at the loss, but then you feel the subtle shift behind you—his hips rocking back, the rustle of fabric as he pushes his boxers down and strokes himself, slow and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your shoulder, voice thick with heat. “I’ve got you.”

Then you feel it. The warm, heavy weight of him pressed right against your soaked folds. Not inside. Not even close. Just resting there—teasing—and then he starts to drag it down. Up. Down again.

Barely any pressure.

Just enough to spread your slick. Just enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs twitch with need.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, voice strained. “You feel that, baby? How wet you are for me?”

He keeps doing it. Slow, maddening glides of his cock through your folds, the tip catching on your clit every time in a way that makes you whimper again—quieter this time, almost like you’re embarrassed by how badly you want him.

And that just makes him grin.

“You were gonna fall asleep like this?” he breathes, voice dark and amused. “So needy and wet, and you weren’t even gonna tell me?”

The way he moves—slow and lazy—leaves you trembling and aching. It’s unbearable. It feels like nothing and so much at the same time.

A gasp stutters out of you when the head of his cock brushes your clit a little harder than before, hips twitching. Your fingers clutch the sheets, desperate for something to ground you.

“Bucky…” you breathe, a plea more than a protest.

He hums low behind you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His free hand—strong, steady—slides up to hold your thigh, keeping you spread just how he wants.

“Shh…” he whispers. “I wanna take my time.”

His cock slides down again, hot and soaked in your slick, nudging at your entrance—but he doesn’t push in. Not yet.

Just rocks his hips again, back and forth, dragging himself through your folds with that same agonizing pressure, like he loves how desperate you’re getting.

And god, he does.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Feel how your pussy’s just soaking for me? So fucking soft… all this mess for nothing, baby.”

He smiles when you let out another whimper, your hips bucking back against him instinctively, chasing more friction. But he tightens his grip on your thigh, holding you right where he wants you.

“Easy,” he says, voice low and almost cruel in its calmness. “You’ll take it when I give it to you. Not a second sooner.”

His tip nudged your entrance again, teasingly slow, just enough for your breath to catch and your hips to twitch back against him.

A soft, tiny whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You like that, baby?” he murmured, smug and low, cock dragging slowly through your slick again—coated, hot, deliberate.

You nodded frantically, desperation clawing at your throat.

“Please, Buck…”

Your voice was barely more than a breath, shaky and wrecked with need.

But he didn’t give in. Didn’t push in.

Instead, he just chuckled darkly and kept doing exactly what he was doing—grinding himself between your folds, up and down, the tip of his cock gliding over your clit in featherlight passes. He was soaked in your arousal now, the sound of it obscene in the quiet of the room.

“You’re fuckin’ dripping,” he whispered, voice thick with lust, his mouth close to your ear. “And all I’m doin’ is rubbing it on you.”

You let out another whimper, pressing your thighs together—but his hand was still gripping one, keeping you spread for him, helpless.

“Mm-mm,” he smirked, thrusting a little harder through your folds now, enough to make you feel it.

“Please, Bucky, I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, nipping at your shoulder. “You’ll take it when I say. I wanna feel you sob for it first.”

To say you were underwhelmed would be an understatement.

It was maddening. Infuriating.

You thought you’d come the moment he pushed inside you—but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even tried. Just kept rubbing his cock through your clit, again and again, slow and teasing, like it was a game to him. And you were losing.

You were trembling. Wrecked. Your body burning with a need so sharp it felt cruel.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted. Your gaze already dazed—tears stinging at the corners, threatening to spill.

And Bucky saw it.

Saw the pure begging in your eyes.

And finally—finally—he gave you what you wanted.

He pushed in. Just the tip.

Fuck, it felt so good—hot and thick and perfect, stretching you open with that first inch. Your mouth dropped open in a broken gasp, a choked sound of relief.

But he didn’t go any deeper.

Just held you there, filled barely enough to satisfy anything, and began to thrust—slow and shallow. Just the tip, dragging back and forth with a torturous rhythm that had your walls fluttering, clenching desperately around him every time he moved.

Your hands fisted the sheets. Your legs shook.

It was almost cruel. Almost.

“Bucky—” you sobbed, the sound choked and desperate. “Please—just—”

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as his tip nudged deep again, then pulled out—slow and slick. “You feel that, baby? Feel how tight you are around just this?”

You nodded, broken and breathless.

“I could keep you like this all night,” he whispered, voice dark and aching. “Just my tip. Just enough to make you cry for it.”

And god—he was.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Your body was shaking, walls fluttering around the teasing stretch of him—just the tip—and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

So you tried. Just a tiny shift of your hips, angling back to take him deeper, even just a little. To feel more of him. Anything.

But he felt it instantly.

His hand snapped up and caught your chin, firm and unforgiving, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. His eyes were dark, wild with control and desire, but there was no softness in his grip.

“Try that again,” he said, voice low and sharp, “and I’ll pull out.”

The words hit like a slap—sharp, cruel, threatening in the way only he could make sound loving.

Your breath hitched, tears threatening again, but you didn’t move.

You wouldn’t.

“Good girl,” he muttered, releasing your chin slowly, dragging his thumb along your jaw as if to soothe what he just said—but his hips stayed steady, cock still buried in that shallow depth, moving in and out with that same teasing rhythm that had you falling apart.

“That’s better,” he whispered. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

He pressed in again, slow and deep this time—but still not all the way, just a little more than before, enough to feel every inch like a gift. Your mouth dropped open, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with smug affection. “Already fucked dumb and I haven’t even given you half of it.”

You tried to stay still. You really did.

But your body was trembling, thighs shaking, your core clenching so hard around nothing it almost hurt. His tip kept stroking inside you, slow and shallow, perfect—and still so fucking insufficient.

It was too much.

Your breath hitched. Your face crumpled. And then the tears spilled—hot, helpless streaks running down your cheeks as a sob tore from your throat.

“Bucky—” you choked, voice wrecked, broken, desperate. “I can’t… I need it, please…”

He stilled for a moment.

Then you felt him lean in closer, his hand coming up to brush your hair off your face—and then down again, fingers curling around your jaw to tilt your face toward him.

And he saw it.

The tears.

Your flushed cheeks, your trembling lips, your eyes blown wide with need and soaked with helpless want.

“Look at you,” he murmured, a slow smirk curving at the edge of his mouth. “So pathetic.”

His voice was low. Cruel. But there was affection under it—desire.

He loved seeing you like this. Ruined. Falling apart. All for him.

“Crying ‘cause you’re not getting cock,” he whispered, dragging his thumb across your wet cheek. “That’s what you wanted, huh? Thought if you sobbed pretty enough, I’d give it to you? Just because you know how fucking much I love seeing you cry for it?”

“Yes, Bucky—yes, please,” you gasped, your voice cracked and wrecked, thick with tears and need.

You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore—more, everything, anything—as long as it was him.

Bucky groaned low in his throat, still cradling your cheek, his cock barely buried in you, just the tip stroking maddeningly slow. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear as he rolled his hips once—deep enough to make your breath catch, not deep enough to give you what you needed.

“Maybe I should just hold my cock inside you like this all night, huh?” he whispered darkly. “Keep you stuffed, all warm and desperate, just like this.”

Your whole body tensed, a shiver running down your spine as your walls fluttered around him.

“You’d take it,” he murmured, grinding shallowly into you, teasing. “Wouldn’t even fight it. Just lay here, crying, dripping all over me while I keep you filled—so full, so fucking needy.”

He smiled against your skin, nipping lightly at your shoulder.

“Maybe that’s what you really want. Not to be fucked—just to be used.”

Your breath hitched. Your hips twitched back, chasing him—again.

He stilled.

“Ah ah,” he warned, tightening his grip on your thigh. “You move again and I’ll pull out for real. And you won’t get it back tonight. Understand me?”

“Please, Bucky,” you sobbed, your voice cracking under the weight of it. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

He didn’t move. Just kept you there—cock teasing the edge of where you needed him, thick and hot and cruelly still.

“Promise me, baby. Promise you’ll be good for me,” he murmured, voice dark and firm against your ear. “Say it.”

“Fuck—yes!” you cried, nodding frantically. “I’ll be good! I’ll be fucking good, I promise, I swear—just—please, Bucky—please—”

God, it was pathetic. The way you begged. The way you’d say anything just to get filled.

“Good girl,” he said low, almost a growl—and then he did it.

He sank into you, slow but deep, burying every inch until his hips were flush with yours and you couldn’t even breathe.

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, eyes wide and wet as the stretch stole every thought from your head. He didn’t wait. Didn’t let you adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again—once, twice—hard, deep, perfect—

And you came.

Just like that.

Your whole body seized, a strangled sob ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched down around him, fluttering wildly, soaking his cock as your orgasm tore through you like a fucking earthquake.

Bucky let out a dark, amused laugh.

“Look at you now…” he groaned, grabbing your chin and turning your face toward him again, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re such a pathetic fucking whore—coming so fast, just ‘cause I finally gave it to you.”

Your face burned, breath hiccuping in your chest as he kept moving—deep and slow now, like he had all the time in the world to drag it out of you again.

“Gonna give me more, you hear me?” he rasped, voice thick and relentless as his cock worked into your trembling cunt. “You’re gonna be a good girl and take it. Gonna let me fuck more out of you.”

His grip on your chin tightened. “Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart.”

Your orgasm was still rippling through you—sharp, overwhelming, your body twitching and trembling as he kept thrusting into your overstimulated cunt.

You whimpered, trying to shift away from him, instinctively pulling your hips forward to escape the relentless drag of his cock.

But Bucky didn’t let you. He grabbed both your wrists in one fluid movement and slammed them down into the mattress above your head—his metal arm locking them there effortlessly, unmovable, unbreakable.

You gasped, back arching as he pressed his weight into you from behind, his chest flush against your spine.

“You tryin’ to run, sweetheart?” he growled into your ear, cock still moving inside you, deep and steady. “After all that fucking begging? After you promised me you’d be good?”

You cried out—high and wrecked—your body flinching with every stroke, too sensitive, too full, but god, you let him.

Because it was Bucky. Because it was his cock splitting you open, keeping you full, keeping you grounded.

“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, snapping his hips forward hard enough to make your breath punch out of you.

He fucked into you freely now—his other hand gripping your waist tight, holding you in place as your arms stayed pinned helplessly above your head, your wrists burning under the cool pressure of vibranium.

Every thrust was overwhelming. Too much.

But you loved it.

Tears streaked down your face again, your thighs shaking with the force of it.

“You’re takin’ it,” he muttered, breath heavy. “Fuck, baby—you’re still clenching so tight for me.”

Your voice cracked on another sob, but you didn’t beg him to stop.

You didn’t want him to. Even when it was too much—you still wanted more.

You were falling apart. Absolutely wrecked.

Bucky’s cock dragged through your soaked, overstimulated cunt with punishing rhythm—deep and relentless, every thrust sending sparks through your spine, making your legs quake and your voice catch on raw sobs.

Tears streamed down your cheeks. You could barely breathe.

Your wrists were still pinned above your head, trapped beneath the cold grip of his metal arm. You had nowhere to go. No way to escape the brutal pace of him driving into you like he owned you.

Because he did.

“Fuck—Bucky—please—” you choked out, voice trembling. “I—I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled against your ear, his voice low and thick with satisfaction. “You’re gonna come again for me. You want to, don’t you?”

Your walls fluttered, a helpless answer.

“I feel it,” he snarled. “You’re squeezing my cock like a fucking vice. This messy little pussy’s begging to come again.”

You sobbed again, your whole body twitching as you felt it building—again. Too much. Too soon.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge—

He stopped.

Just kept himself buried deep, holding you tight and not moving.

You let out a broken, desperate cry, struggling against his grip.

“You want it?” he rasped. “You wanna come again, baby?”

“Y-Yes! Please, Bucky, please—I need it, I need it—”

“Then thank me,” he growled, thrusting once—hard and deep enough to make your back arch.

“What—?”

“You fucking thank me,” he hissed. “Thank me for ruining you. Say it. Or I’ll pull out and leave you dripping and empty.”

And god—you were so far gone, so desperate, so needy, you didn’t even hesitate.

“Thank you—fuck—thank you, Bucky!” you sobbed, tears spilling freely now. “Thank you for ruining me—thank you, please—I wanna come—I wanna come so bad—”

“That’s my good girl,” he growled—and slammed into you again.

Once. Twice. Again.

And that was it.

You shattered around him, a broken scream tearing from your throat as your cunt clamped down hard, milking his cock in wave after wave of pulsing, messy bliss. Your body convulsed under him, completely overwhelmed, mind blank with nothing but pleasure and his name.

“Fucking ruined,” Bucky groaned, fucking you through it with brutal, merciless strokes. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Let me feel that pussy break for me.”

Your orgasm still had you trembling—your cunt clenching and fluttering around him, overstimulated and dripping, your cries raw and broken.

Bucky growled low behind you, his thrusts getting rougher, more erratic, his breath hot and heavy on your neck.

And then he snapped. He slammed in deep and stayed there, his body tensing against yours as a low, guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—”

You felt it. The sudden, hot flood of him spilling inside you—thick ropes of cum pumping into your already ruined cunt, and there was so much, you could feel it start to leak around his cock almost instantly.

You whimpered, twitching beneath him, too sensitive, too full, too much.

But he didn’t pull out. He stayed buried in you, balls pressed flush against your swollen, aching pussy, his metal arm still pinning your wrists above your head.

And you cried. Silent, overwhelmed tears streaking your face as your body convulsed from the aftershocks—still trembling, still spread open, still his.

Bucky leaned in close, breath brushing your ear, voice low and wicked.

“Mmm… you feel that?” he whispered, rocking his hips once, slow and deep, just to press it in further. “Feel my cum inside you? Leaking out already… but you’re gonna hold it, sweetheart. You hear me?”

You whimpered, nodding weakly, and he chuckled darkly.

“That’s right. Keep me warm, baby. Keep it all right there—fuckin’ stuffed full like you were made for this.”

His free hand trailed down your side, fingers splaying over your lower belly, pressing just enough to make you feel it even more.

“You feel so tight around me still,” he murmured. “Still fucking pulsing. Like your pussy’s thanking me for ruining it.”

You let out a shaky sob, and he kissed your shoulder softly—sweet, almost gentle, a cruel contrast to the mess he left you in.

“My perfect little cum-drunk whore,” he breathed. “So good for me. So full. So fucking mine.”

You were shaking—mind blank, tears streaking down your cheeks, his cum still hot and thick inside you.

And Bucky… god, he still didn’t stop. He stayed deep, cock twitching inside you, and then he started moving again. Slow now. Deep. Unhurried.

Fucking his release into you like he was claiming you with every inch.

You sobbed softly, overstimulated and overwhelmed, your arms finally dropping when he let go of your wrists—but only for a moment.

His hand moved immediately to your jaw, firm and guiding, turning your tear-streaked face toward him.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you did—barely. Dazed. Broken.

His mouth caught yours in a kiss—hot, slow, lingering. His tongue slid gently against yours as his cock kept moving inside you, dragging through your soaked walls with a rhythm that felt soothing, almost comforting.

And then he didn’t stop there. He kissed you again—just as slow—but this time it wasn’t just your mouth.

He pressed his lips to your cheeks, damp with tears. Gentle kisses, one after another, as if he could wipe them away with his mouth. As if he wasn’t the reason you were crying in the first place.

Your jaw. Your temple. The corner of your eye.

Each kiss was soft. Deliberate. Soothing.

His mouth found your ear, and he whispered, voice rough but steady:

“So good,” he placed a kiss to your neck. “Such a good fuckin’ girl,” then another to your jaw.

But you were still crying. Still wrecked. Still whimpering into his mouth.

“You took it so good for me, baby,” he murmured against your lips, fingers cradling your face now, gentler than before. “So fuckin’ messy, so desperate—my perfect little thing.”

You whimpered, clenching around him again.

“Such a good girl,” he rasped, voice thick with lust and something dangerously close to affection. “You made such a mess for me.”

His thrusts stayed deep, slow, dragging every last bit of overstimulation out of you, cock still thick and heavy inside your slick, swollen cunt.

And even through your tears, even through the way your body shook, you still pressed your cheek into his hand. Still gave him everything.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just let me fuck it into you. Nice and slow. You earned that, didn’t you?”

You could only nod—pathetic and ruined.

He kept fucking you—slow and deep, every thrust thick with his cum, every drag of his cock pulling a soft whimper from your swollen throat.

His hand cradled your jaw, lips brushing against your cheek where the tears still lingered, and his voice dropped low—raspy and certain.

“I’m not fucking pulling out of you tonight. I can assure you that.”

⋆⁺₊✧ MASTERLIST