Work Text:
From the moment Bucky first saw Natasha - Bucky already having sat down in the fifth row of the raised auditorium seating, unpacking his supplies for notes while waiting for his laptop to wake up, Natasha walking into the lecture hall in tight leggings and a sweatshirt with a worn neckline, dipping enough to present her sharp collarbones, her hair curled elegantly around her beautiful face, only a touch longer than her jaw - back in freshman year of college, he knew he wanted her. However, all he could do about it though was daydream from afar. At least, at first, seeing as if he went up to her he wouldn’t be able to get out even a single word. Just a tongue-tied, incomprehensible stutter. Something about the brilliant redhead has always dumbfounded him. Every time. Maybe it was her intelligence. Maybe it was as shallow as her beauty. Maybe… maybe it was her tongue.
After all, she spoke- speaks what seem like a million different languages. Her major was politics (PoliSci) with a focus on global politics eventually. Later, her ability to translate as well as speak would only help. It would automatically push her into higher demand for global politics than someone who could only speak and understand English. Her Russian, French, German, and Chinese (along with a few others that Bucky has only had the pleasure of hearing once or twice in a blue moon) made her stand out, a top competitor and the person to beat when looking for internships, come her junior and senior years of college. Nearly every political figure in the states that were taking internships at the time had wanted the bright, beautiful woman; her test scores, GPA, and then minor in Russian Translation had made her irresistible. Which Bucky knew inherently. Just with a single look. Eventually, he knew beyond the surface too. The professor they had shared for an introductory philosophy class, their freshman year, had paired them together. Insisting that she wanted to see them work together, likely creating a presentation that would impress her, seeing as they both were shaping up - already - to be the tops of their majors if not their overall class. Bucky had been studying for his biomedical engineering. Natasha, of course, had political science.
Working together for their final was the worst, best thing to happen.
Natasha waltzed into his dorm, sat criss-cross on his bottom bunk, twitched her head to the side to assess him, and spoke, looking wolfish after their awkward (on Bucky’s half) introductions, “I assume you’re not going to be one of the assholes that put all of the group work onto me, rather than carrying your own weight, but, hey, if you do end up doing that… at least, I guess you’ll look pretty doing it.”
Even the memory of her saying that… her full lips shaping the words and that challenging, sharp look in her eyes… it sends a shiver down Bucky’s spine and flames lapping up his chest and neck to his face. It was like she could see through him, over the exterior he puts up, straight to the soft parts of him that long for praise and approval. Aching for someone to notice how good he is.
By the end of the group project, Bucky had gone from staring at her with probable stars in his eyes across the room, sitting at the head of his bed, to sitting on the floor next to where she had monopolized the desk in his dorm. By the end of the project, Natasha sat in the desk chair, her knees level to Bucky’s head, and Bucky sat star-gazing right up at her. Waiting for her to approve one of his ideas with fingernails scritching through his hair and a hum spilling over her lips. They started dating somewhere in there. And they’ve not looked back. Although they’ve also never fully closed the relationship, it’s just never been their style. Besides, it’s difficult to always give each other all of what they need, Bucky still works in the US but Natasha works all over: capitol hill, other counties, online when she doesn’t have time or the ability to travel, etc.
No matter if they see other people, some combination of poly and slutty (as Nat calls it), Bucky likes her the most though, he isn’t sure he’s ever felt the giddy yet feverish sensation she gives him with anyone else. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel it for anyone else. He’s not sure poly is the correct word, but… who knows? He wouldn’t mind another person coming into their relationship full time, they’ve just not found them if so.
Anyway, every time she goes away and comes back, their relationship gets better. It might look like they’re both fierce and unable to be broken like a stallion on the outside but… inside it’s not that way. Natasha Romanoff: political translator extraordinaire as well as probably the person most knowledgeable about US foreign policy. Bucky Barnes: medical engineer, focusing on advancing prosthetics for those in need, working with the best of the best in the US as well as consulting with Swedish engineers (who’re said to be the best engineers in the world). Natasha helps him with the language barrier when needed. Their friends joke that they’re both shooting stars- intelligent and passionate. Burning together, a sustained explosion, brighter than the rest but only if they knew…
Only if they knew about Bucky’s collar and leash. Only if they knew about the bruises nearly constantly present on his knees and the ache always in his palms from crawling around their home, heated wooden floors no less solid than regular wooden floors. Only if they knew of his affinity for being degraded and humiliated- feminized too. Only if they knew about the third bedroom in their home. The one that is an “extra guest bedroom” but really outfitted with enough toys to make even a kinky individual's head spin. The bedroom but also the bathroom attached to that room. There’s a reason it gets locked whenever they have company. Only if they knew about how sweet and easy Bucky is for Natasha.
Only if…
Bucky is sweet and easy when Natasha comes home from another trip, her tongue still slipping into the language she’s just been using a majority of the time abroad (Russian this time) as she purrs, “детка, детка, деткаaa.” [baby, baby, babyyy]
He’s been on his knees, next to the door, waiting, since she texted him to tell him that she was ten minutes away; an embassy car swiftly taking her through the private gates and up their drive. Dropping her and her luggage just inside the grand front doors.
Her fingers are on his chin now, tipping his face up to her and asking dangerously, “did you miss Mommy?”
Oh, God. Hot arousal and a little flare of shame bolts through Bucky, leaving his throat to twist into a thin whimper. Head nodding urgently, he thinks- I did, I really, really did, but he can’t speak. A cat has caught his tongue, tangled up with his rising lust in an incoherent knot.
“Good, I’m glad, baby,” she says, tapping his cheek with a grin - nearly a mock slap, teasing him with the type of pain he needs and wants from her especially - but then Natasha lets his face go in order to take off her heels. For now, she sets the shiny, pointed, black shoes in front of the coat closet in the entry hall. Bucky watches her do it, eyes dragging, starved, over the shape of her body. She is wrapped tightly in a sharp black pencil skirt that goes down to rest just over her knees. It clings beautifully to her thighs and calves until it cuts off. She also has on a black suit jacket, the sleeves of which would normally go all the way down to her wrists, but she has them rolled up today. Exposing her hands (this week her fingernails are lacquered a deep red) and forearms in addition to the deep red buttoned shirt she has on. The shirt rolled up with the jacket. The outfit hugs her body beautifully, raising the urge inside Bucky to beg to be allowed to bury his face against her like a needy kitten. Especially, he wants to push his face up against her cunt or breasts. But even just her thigh. He wants to feel her and breathe her in.
Bucky doesn’t care which, he just wants to touch rather than to stay light-headed, watching from afar, as he remains on his knees. He hasn’t been told to move though, so he won’t.
Just watching, as painful as it might be, Bucky feels underdressed, aching to squirm as he is: worn sweatpants and a t-shirt from some engineering/tech conference he attended at some point. His feet are bare. Natasha even has tights on, concealing her legs. A thought briefly flashes through his head- what panties is Mommy wearing? I wanna see them. Will I get to see them? However, the naughty thought is washed quickly away as she turns, walking back to him.
Natasha scratches her nails through the hair at the crown of his head where it’s the longest - not where it’s shorn much shorter on the sides - she creates a tangle so she can yank in his head back. Bucky inhales sharply, a moan dying in his throat as he cranes his neck. If he didn’t know her so well, he wouldn’t be able to tell that she’s schooling her features in an effort to not show just how much she missed him- how soft she is for him like this, waiting, on his knees. For her. She is though.
She’s making her face stoic as she exposes his throat, ordering, “I want you to get your ass into the playroom, baby.” Bucky nearly moans, hearing playroom in her voice after so long. “Mommy’s missed her toy so much that she’s gonna treat you to something nice. Alright?” A strand of hair falls from the bun she has is tied back in, perfectly timed to visually show the debauchery that is about to go down.
Bucky nods frantically after swallowing audibly. It’s more than “alright”. He has no idea what constitutes as a treat when they have so many delicious things to play with, but he’s hoping, hoping so badly, that this treat will be what he FaceTime-d her to beg for just the other day. It’s something they only do together. No one else knows. It’s so embarrassing and- and frankly so fucking weird that he can’t admit it to anyone but Mommy. It’s a different kind of freaky from the rest of their BDSM play in his mind. He doesn’t know why. He just knows it’s different. It hits a different button inside him that he’s still working through being not ashamed about. But… he just can’t help it. He wants it. Bad. He has been wanting it while she’s been away- he’s had craving for it.
Gathering his legs underneath him in a scramble, Bucky freezes in place, halfway between kneeling and standing as Mommy clicks her tongue.
“Did you forget Mommy’s rules while she was away, baby?” Bucky inhales sharply. God. His cock throbs so hard in his sweats that he nearly doubles over to curl around it. Painfully aroused. Natasha grins at him like a fox about to pounce and rip into their next meal, her voice drawls slowly at him as if she’s talking to someone much younger- much dumber. It’s obscene. “Crawl.”
This time the sound that wants to escape Bucky doesn’t die in his throat, it comes straight out of him. Crumbling back to the floor with that moan, Bucky gets on all fours. His struggling and engorged cock rubs against the heavy fabric of his sweats. He shivers, trying his hardest to ignore it. The sparking pleasure of the fiction in favor of thinking about continuing to put one foot and one hand in front of the other. Head aimed ahead rather than at the floor so he doesn’t get lost and walk into a wall, thinking too little when he’s so turned on.
~~~~~
By the time Bucky reaches the playroom from the entryway - stalling on his knees to reach up with his hands and turn the doorknob to enter - he’s vibrating in place. So, so ready for whatever his domme has planned for him. He can taste the pleasure of giving in and giving her everything. Electricity is zapping through him. Anticipation too.
And it’s a good thing he doesn’t have to wait very long for Mommy to come and find him. Unknowing what she wants of him, he’s taken it upon himself to kneel next to the side of the bed in the room (not that anyone ever stays the night on the piece of furniture). His hands are on his knees, palms down, and his back is straight while his head faces away from the door and to the bed instead. The frame is dark, a heavy wood that is perfect for anchoring ties and restraints and anything they might need to it. There are no blankets on the bed, just a mattress with a mattress protectant over it for easy cleaning after they have any kind of scene. Around him, other equipment busily but soundlessly takes up a lot of real estate in the room: toys and accessories hang off of pegboards, they hang from hooks that they have drilled into the walls, sitting on shelves placed meticulously for easy access, or they are hidden away in one of the few organized chests. It’s one hell of a playroom. Impressive as any of their kinky- kinkiest friends who have seen it will say.
Natasha enters behind Bucky. Shutting the door and locking it with a click. Locking it just for show. Just because she knows that it raises the hair on his arms and the back of his neck. Turning him on with his instincts that say trapped! trapped! trapped! urging him that he has suddenly dropped from top of the food chain to prey. Yet, pervertedly, he loves the way it feels; he is addicted to it.
“Good, good job, baby,” she hums, walking up to him, squeezing the back of his neck until his head hangs heavy, chin to chest. Bucky exhales like it’s a relief, whimpering at her thoughtless touch. “You gonna listen to Mommy tonight?” She asks as if there isn’t only one answer.
“Yes,” Bucky breathes. He always tries to listen in the least.
“Again, but better.” She orders.
Bucky amends his statement, just as eager, only more formal, “yes, Mommy, ‘m gonna listen.” He nearly trips over his own eager tongue.
“Yeah, you will-” she assures, running her fingers down his neck until she gets to the top collar of his shirt, she tugs hard at it. Until he chokes. With his head-spinning, she speaks as if she isn’t doing a thing, “-and you’re gonna take everything Mommy has to give you, right? No matter how hard it is to take? No matter how much it is?”
Oh.
Bucky might choke on his excitement, knowing what they’re doing for certain now. He chokes harder on those words and what Mommy is hinting at more than he chokes on the cutting feel of his shirt being pulled, which… she twists the fabric in her grip, making it tighter until- she lets go.
Having oxygen again makes Bucky’s head spin even faster. He gasps unsteadily.
“What, baby?” She’s smirking. He can hear it in her voice.
“Yeah. Yes, Mommy, I’m… ‘m gonna take it.” He stumbles, hot.
“Good.” She returns to petting the back of his neck for a second. Allowing him time to cool down because she knows how sensitive he is to this. She knows how bad it gets him, twisting everything up inside him delightfully, making it hot and tight and knotting him impossibly. Impossible, at least, until she unravels him- always knowing which string to tug at. “Take off your shirt and pants,” she orders, “be neat. I’m gonna get everything ready.” Natasha doesn’t even wait for him to eagerly agree after she finishes speaking. She just begins moving. Knowing and trusting that he will do as she has asked, wrapped around her finger.
As she moves to the bathroom (something else that makes Bucky’s breathing speed up when he’s in the mood he is, understanding exactly what they get up to in the bathroom), he sees suddenly that, oh, fuck-
That whole time…?
That whole time she was standing behind him-
That whole fucking time she hadn’t been wearing- fuck. Bucky swallows a groan, wincing at his dry throat. She has lost her skirt somewhere. And, God, Bucky watches her disappear into the bathroom, shutting the door to tease him more (like he needs it). He thought she just had on tights under her skirt-! But. Nope. The whole time Mommy has had on black see-through stockings, ending halfway up her thick thighs and held up by an equally dark garter belt overshadowing her skimpy deep-red panties. Leaving only sections of her pale white, smooth skin on display. His cock throbs. Again he feels sub-par to her inherently erotic beauty. Christ. She may have left the skirt behind but she didn’t leave her button-up shirt; the sleeves are still rolled to her elbows, her suit jacket forgotten too. The buttons on the shirt aren’t closed either evident as the sides of the shirt flutter around her body.
For a moment Bucky presses his forehead into the frame of the bed he’s kneeling in front of, mourning that he didn’t get to see her front half in that outfit. Not knowing if she’s wearing a bra still or not is killing him.
But-
Bucky needs to be good. He needs to get to his shaky feet so he can have his reward. So he can take what Mommy is planning to give him, what she’s preparing for him right now. God. He can’t wait- he doesn’t want to.
A little more than just a little dizzy, Bucky rips off his shirt, sweats, and underwear. Folding them all as swiftly as he can and dropping them in the corner to the right of the door, out of the way but still organized. She didn’t give orders for what he would do once he was done so… he figures he might as well kneel right where he was, naked this time. He trusts that she will come to get him when everything is ready. The only addition he has to his position, taken on again, is that this time he sandwiches his fingers between his calves and thighs, sitting on his hands to keep them away from his engorged, throbbing cock. He’s already sweating, his mind's eye replaying the look of Mommy and his nerves playing with his mind, reminding him of all the wonderful sensations she gives him when he’s been good.
The sound of water running in the bathroom lulls him deeper into the cloudy haze that has begun to form in his mind like the very beginning stages of making candy floss. Spinning faster and faster, hypnotic, and getting more opaque as things progress. Bucky shuts his eyelids. He can wait. He can be good.
~~~~~
Click.
Bucky can’t help but stop breathing, hearing the bathroom door open. Then, the light sound of Mommy’s feet on the tile… the hardwood floor of the playroom. Closer and closer, she prowls. He still can’t inhale or exhale. Frozen.
“хороший ребенок мамы,” [Mommy’s good baby] her voice caresses the words, bringing a rush of heat through Bucky, from his scalp to his toes, sparkling. Her fingernails graze his jaw and neck, making his eyes flick open as she continues to trail them down to his shoulder. She speaks in English then, asking, “ready?”
Mute with the thick arousal clogging his throat, he nods. Vision swimming.
“Come then,” she says, curling two of her fingers at him.
Bucky knows well enough that she’s not inviting him to walk. She’s inviting him to crawl a pace or two behind her- a respectful distance. Which he does, ignoring and discomfort in his knees or wrists in favor of the supernova of heat that curls in him when she looks over her shoulder and licks her lips, her forest-green eyes flicking over his naked body. He swears he hears something in what he recognizes as Russian relating to how she could “ eat you up”.
More shivers break out over him. As if he has a fever.
The white tile of the bathroom is somehow colder than the black charcoal wooden flooring, although, perhaps he’s just hotter now. He’s reached his boiling point. Anticipation and tension mount inside him, magma more near the surface, just waiting to explode. Ready to spill down his flesh as lava. If only he’s told it’s allowed.
Natasha points him to the shower, gently sliding the door wider. Their shower is a glorious black marble stall with glass doors and silver detailing, big enough for five or six if they really wanted, squeezing in together. The stall has three showerheads, two at the sides, and one rainfall head in the middle. There’s a sauna function too, little jets/misters hidden in the walls. Moreover, it’s meant, really, for four to be able to all shower comfortably. After group scenes. It’s Mommy’s favorite form of aftercare, bathing her submissive(s). It’s why there’s also a huge white tub in this bathroom.
However, the look of the shower is exclusively erotic to Bucky because of the attachment he can see waiting for him- a silver hose screwed onto where, normally, the third showerhead would go. The silver hose has what looks like a buttplug attached to the end of it. Bucky knows the toy is hollow, perfect for the shower, spraying water into whoever has it inside them comfortably because it’s large enough that the person (always himself) won’t have to worry about holding it in, especially if they’ve not been fucked open recently. A shower enema toy.
The glass doors of the shower already have a little bit of condensation and steam painting them because Mommy’s made sure the water will be warm when they start to really play. He shudders with excitement, crawling closer. His rim clenches around nothing, he can’t wait to have that filling him up and then so much water that it’s visible on the outside. Water painted with their imaginations to be so much more.
He has to be good.
Mommy climbs in first and Bucky tears his eyes away from the enema hose to see the bench she’s also positioned perfectly. It too is silver, slotted, and removable for effective use of their space. It too makes him shiver. He knows what the bench is for… holding him up when it’s too much but when they’re not yet done playing. Mommy pushing him to be the best he can- the biggest he can.
A moan dies in his throat, barely stifled.
“C’mon then,” Nat says, voice rough. She’s not looking at him, instead, she’s extracting the bottle of lube that’s always in the shower from the little hanging shelf; its home is next to sweet-smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash among a few other products. Holding it in her hand with a delicious expression, Bucky whines, crawling into the space with her. “Over the bench,” she orders, not wasting any time tonight.
Bucky follows. Obediently presenting himself to her. Parts of his chest and tummy pressing to the metal. It’s cold. He gasps.
And he gasps again as her fingers, slick and cold with lube, circle his rim. Two at first, smearing the slick all over his sensitive skin. An uncontrollable couple of twitches move through him. Mommy just shushes him and continues massaging the whirl of muscle that is his entrance. His pussy as Mommy always tells him. God.
As he begins to relax, she teases him with the tip of her first finger. The tip slips inside him. Bucky curls his toes and then forces himself to stop. Relax. Be good. Just take it.
“Mmmmmm,” the red-head hums, her eyes are like fire over his skin, looking at his most intimate places. She’s about to give him what he won’t let anyone else have. The tension could choke him to death and is too thick for a knife to be able to cut.
The tip of her finger quickly turns into all of her first finger, wet, and making embarrassing sounds against the tightness of his body. She’s not trying to stretch him open for a cock or her strap, Bucky knows that, she’s just trying to make sure he’s good and wet and just stretched enough to take the toy. Her finger twists and stabs him with heat. A moan careens out of him as she brushes his prostate. She laughs and pats his ass with her other hand. Pulling out her finger only to add more lube and then slip it back in, she rubs the walls of his pussy intensely. As if she’s scrubbing his insides. The pressure and friction leave him panting, his head foggy because of it.
All the while she just keeps humming, not at all bothered by him. Almost acting like she doesn’t care about this. Almost like it’s only for him. She doesn’t need this the way he does. Bucky feels more embarrassment worm its way inside him. He’s so hard that his cock is throbbing. Trapped between metal and flesh; the bench and his stomach. If not under unspoken orders to only do as Mommy says, he would hump the bench like an animal in heat, desperate. Desperate for friction. For pleasure.
Trying to squirm, subconsciously trying to get her to brush his prostate again makes Mommy click her tongue, pinch his ass until he whimpers, and then tell him, “such a naughty, greedy thing I’ve got tonight, huh?”
His face must be cherry red.
Although naughty, he’s apparently not been bad enough for her to stop. Once more she removes her finger briefly, drips more lube onto it, and then pushes it back into him. The tip of another finger teases him too as he pants. He has no trouble taking her slim fingers now. The sting of the tiny stretch has been wholly replaced by a small amount of pleasure.
“So wet, baby,” Mommy purrs.
Bucky moans. Forget cherry red, his face has got to be fire engine red. Being told he's wet makes him feel so dirty- so naughty and slutty for Mommy. He can't get enough of it. And she's not done giving it, she thrusts her fingers for a couple more moments, making the squelching sounds bounce off of the walls of the shower.
“You gonna squirt all over me, huh?” Mommy teases, “so excited that you can't help it but drip for me?”
The mewl that comes out of Bucky would be embarrassing if he weren’t already past that level of embarrassment. He’s too focused on being and feeling wet for Mommy, wet like a girl with slick dripping down his thighs from his pussy, greedily stuffed with two fingers and still needing more. So much more. He really, really wants to be stretched and full. That sounds like heaven.
Her fingers disappear, but before Bucky can whimper in loss - aching for them back - he’s being plugged up. Refilled. Filled with more right after thanks to the plug. The tip of the plug is blunt but tapered, getting thicker and fatter farther down. A needy pant falls out of Bucky's mouth, his eyes might have rolled into the back of his head, just knowing what's coming. Thankfully, she must’ve been holding it close to her body while prepping him because the plug is not bone-chilling cold but relatively warm as it splits him open.
“Bear down, c’mon, you know how this works, baby-” she taps his ass, right where she's been pinching him, knowing he loves the way it stings and looks forward to the bruise that will be left behind “-you’ve had plenty of practice.”
This time Bucky does whimper with shame. He also squirms on the bench, bare naked and bared for her hungry eyes. He has to let go of some of the feelings inside him or he’ll explode, hence the whimpering. Too much anticipation and hot embarrassment and not enough pleasure. Because he has had plenty of practice with this. Maybe even too much.
God.
“Unnngh!” Bucky cries out as the whole plug pops past his rim and finally into his body. Okay, his eyes definitely have rolled back now. He can’t help it.
Natasha leaves him to get used to it, panting. Clenching around the metal. His body molding to the shape and his head molding to the understanding that he’s been penetrated- one step closer to what he needs so badly. His cock twitches.
A minute, two, then three minutes pass. Four.
Natasha orders, “stand up.”
He does.
On shaky, half-cooked pasta limbs, Bucky uses his arms to push himself up off of the bench and places a palm flat against the shower wall to steady himself on his feet; the wall, marble, and cold presses back against him, happy to help. All as he moves, he makes helpless little sounds, feeling the plug shift inside him. Always coming close to brushing his prostate but never quite getting all the way there. It's just as much of a tease as Mommy is.
Jesus, fuck.
Mommy leans against him once he’s fully standing and has been for a hot second. With her weight, he’s pressing not just his cheek and palms to the shower wall but all of his body. His hard, tight nipples and his swollen, hot cock coming into contact with the surface leave him gasping sharply. Pussy tightening down on the plug. Gut tightening with arousal. Especially aroused with the way his dom's body feels against his. Her breasts are full and substantial against his shoulders (she has lost her bra too fuuuck), her hair, hanging around her face, tickles his skin, with her lower body pressed against his ass. He can't breathe- face hot. Muscles tight. Nerves sizzling.
“Are you ready to take everything that Mommy tells you to?” She questions, voice like velvet against his ear.
“Yes, Mommy,” he’s so proud that his voice doesn’t shake and that he gets any words out at all, that he doesn't notice Natasha’s left hand sneaking off of his hip from where it had mirrored her right to find the knob that turns the water on. She doesn’t begin the flow. Not yet. She will torture him more first.
Bucky doesn’t want to wait. But he will. For her.
“You sure?” Her lips caress his skin and her right hand sneaks around to pet his tummy, forcing its way between the wall and his body. Bucky feels lightheaded. Her hand rubs little circles on his belly as she says, “you sure you want me to fill you up right here?-” Bucky nods frantically but she just keeps talking as if he hadn't, as if she didn’t know how desperate he is for this “-are you sure that you can take all of it? It's gonna be so heavy and it's gonna make you really tight and bloated,” the brunet feels his knees weaken, slipping down the wall a little. “You think you can take everything I have? It’s a lot, you know that. Mommy can’t resist unloading absolutely everything inside you.”
“Yes! Yes!” He whines, face to the wall. Pressing his body forward into her hand to show her how bad he needs it. He feels so empty and he wants her to fix it.
“Hmmm…” she hums as if she might start to refuse.
Bucky can’t let that happen, he wants it, he needs it, so he starts blubbering, “pleeease, please Mommy! I-I can take it! I promise! Wanna be big and tight for you! I'll take it! I'll be able to hold it! Even if it's heavy! Pl-please?! Want it. So bad. I want all of you so bad.”
Wordlessly, Natasha's lips pull into a feral grin against him. Her fingers twist the knob slightly…
“Oh,” puffs out of his mouth. The flow of water starts shortly after her fingers twitch into action; the first slow flow of perfectly tempered water coming through the hose and emptying into his body. Warm and not enough but… he knows they have to go slow. As much as he wants to be so full that he looks like he swallowed a beach ball then inflated it inside of himself now, he knows the importance of stretching. So, so turned on, Bucky gasps, “thank you thank you- oh, thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” Mommy tells him, smug. Her small hand still rubs circles on his skin, as if she wants to feel every drop of water going into him, swelling him. Making him bigger and bigger.
Bucky can’t help the way his breathing gets heavier and heavier. The water is flowing into him stronger now- she must’ve adjusted the flow. Impatient herself. Every time they do this, they’re reminded that they should do this more often. It’s so good. It feels so good, already. The anticipation is strong. Right now, it’s like his insides are getting a bath. Slow and warm. The pressure is slowly increasing. Creeping up. Water settles deep, deep inside him. But soon the pressure will be unbearable and he’ll be so full. Round and heavy. And-
Shivering, Bucky glances down to see the small swell of his belly, pushing out between his hips first, low because of where the water is entering him. Later his whole tummy will be big, tight, and heavy. His toes curl on the dry floor of the shower. Mommy sees him looking and pinches where he’s rounding out. She ups the flow of the water again.
Bucky can’t help but moan breathlessly, feeling it. Loving it.
“Look at that cute baby bump… aw,” she coos, teasing and delightfully making Bucky’s cock twitch, “you let somebody knock you up, baby?”
A needy, high whimper comes out of him before he even realizes it.
“Did Mommy do it? Mommy knock you up?” She’s back to rubbing circles over his stretching skin. Fuck. “Did Mommy fill her baby up with a baby ‘cause she wanted to see her baby all big and ripe and owned?” she asks rhetorically. “She did. Mommy put a baby in you. Stuffed you full of her load and bred you good. And look at you now… you’re rounding out so prettily. Gonna look so good, walking around heavy and full.”
This time, Bucky moans. A hot flare of arousal shoots down his spine to collect with all that water in his stomach. He’s still filling up. The water is flowing fast enough now - the pressure increasing enough - that it’s pressing up against his prostate and he’s so, so hard. It aches like a cracked tooth in his jaw but the feeling is between his legs and about one thousand percent worse because he’s so sensitive there. His hard, aching dick is beginning to be obscured by the rounding mound of his gut. So big.
“Yeah, it’s Mommy’s for sure,” Natasha grins, biting his shoulder gently. Grazing her teeth over his flesh as if she wants to eat him in her own expression of gluttony. Hers doesn’t hold a candle to Bucky’s gluttony though, he’s so big that his gut is pressing to the shower wall now. Swelling.
Swelling.
Swelling.
His stretched, flushed skin is fully kissing the black marble now, fighting to push the rest of his body back because the wall will not move. As a result, Bucky is beginning to squirm under the pressure- inside and the outside. The water flows into him - warm and heavy - blowing him up like a water balloon. Yet, Bucky pictures himself so much bigger, impossibly bigger. To the point that he’s lying on his tummy and being filled from a hose down his mouth as well as one going deep in his pussy; filling his intestines and his stomach until he gets so big that his tummy swells outwards and upwards until he’s resting on top of his bloated, massive gut. Until he’s so fucking massive.
Really, his chest is pressed to the shower wall and so his stomach has no real room to grow at all but still… the idea and phantom sensation of it feeds the ravenous, animal lust inside him. He wants to be as big as he can. And being pressed up against the wall this way isn’t letting him. He whimpers, tipping his hips back for more room. He needs to get bigger! He needs to sit back and swell! He wants to sit, curled around his tummy until it’s fatter and bigger than the rest of him.
Mommy knows exactly what he is doing, chuckling. Only questioning for show, “you pushing your ass out at me, baby?” Bucky is too locked on the feeling in his body for words. For a ridiculously erotic moment, she pins him harder to the wall when he doesn’t answer. Bucky feels the water push deeper inside him because it can’t go out, so it will go in.
Holy shit.
Bucky shudders hard, moaning, “pl-please!” He wants to be bigger. He needs it. He’s gotta be bigger.
“Greedy slut,” she smacks his ass.
The shock of pain makes Bucky rock forward into the wall, which presses on his tummy and forces a punched-out groan from him. His belly is so tender like this. Yet, pervertedly, all he wants is more. So, he tries to shape more words, aching for more and ready and willing to beg for it but before he can even get the first plea out-
His dom steps back from behind him, giving him room but not waiting a split second before pulling him away from the wall. And without the pressure keeping all the water inside him deep in his guts… oh, God. It feels like his tummy lurches forward. Sloshing and so much bigger than he thought. Heavy, low between his hips. Shit. Fuck. His legs wobble, unable to take the weight- tummy heavy and swollen into a teardrop shape, rounder at the bottom than the top.
Panting, whining, Bucky’s hands flash down from where he was palms-down to the wall to his growing middle. Oh, shhhit. His blue eyes roll into the back of his skull, feeling the flow of water inside him, filling him up.
Natasha joins in, petting the rotund sides of his stomach. Leaving the water on the exact flow that it was all this time, so he’s still getting rounder. Not wasting a minute. Still blowing him up. He’s just a goddamn water balloon and it feels so good. So good even as he’s unsteady, swelling up and choking on his tongue, moaning breathily, head spinning as he tries to get used to standing like this. Not against the wall. Leaning back against Nat to make up for his shaking, arousal-weak body. Feeling where he’s getting more and more round- his center of gravity changing rapidly. As if he’s been knocked up and is flying through the months of it, growing so fast.
Fuck me.
Yet, all too soon, one of Mommy’s hands leaves his rounding side to flick the water higher. Increasing the flow. The pressure. The pleasure.
Eyes widening, Bucky moans, long and loud over the sound of her affectionately calling him dramatic. He’s not dramatic. It just feels so good- he can’t help it. There’s so much pressure. The water is already so heavy. He’s already so round; the bottom of his gut full and only getting fuller. He can’t fucking wait until he’s so full that the water travels up and up, filling all of him that it can.
Hell, yes… please, Bucky thinks, shaking, clenching around the toy as if his life depends on it. He is addicted to having his hands resting on his stomach as it fills, he wants to feel all of this. Inside and out. Mommy’s making him so big. Filling him so well. Changing him to be what she needs and wants.
And just like that, when Natasha decides he’s had enough time to find his equilibrium… she unpeels herself from him, not allowing for him to lean on her any longer. She leans against the wall herself instead, watching him from just a little ways away- watching the way Bucky is shaking. Touching himself - his big belly - and barely able to stay standing, he’s trembling so much.
“Gettin’ so big,” Mommy murmurs under her breath, just as turned on. Doing this to him.
Bucky doesn’t respond, he just thinks, I know, I know! I am. I’m getting so big. So full.
Her eyes rake down his bulging form, appreciating the distended shape of his belly so intensely that Bucky feels like the heat from her eyes has the water boiling inside him.
After a moment of just looking, she reaches out to grab his wrists. Tugging his hands from his gut, much to his disappointment. God, he wants to touch and feel and soothe his body as he fills up. Hot and heavy. Please. His hand rubbing his tummy feels so good. He’s not disappointed for too long though because then she’s replacing the loss by tugging his whole body back until he’s crushing her between the wall and his own body; her breasts push lushly into him, her hands grab his hips, fingertips digging hard and unforgiving into the soft padding there. His love handles . Sinful in excess. Her front to his back. He moans, his voice suddenly getting an octave higher when she scratches her nails over his rumbling, filling belly while thinking about how much he wishes she had her strap-on and harness in the shower with them, pressing up against his ass, slipping between his cheeks, threatening to fill him up with something else. Her cock. But as is, shit, his skin feels so unbearably thin under her touch- her fingernails. He’s swelling and swelling. Skin is stretching and stretching.
He shivers uncontrollably.
“Such a good balloon,” she whispers, on her tiptoes to force her mouth level with his ear, as if it’s a secret only for him to know. A dirty, dirty secret. “Look who’s filling out,” she breathes.
And Bucky, because he’s a good boy, looks down to see himself even though he knows it’s him. Filling out. His round, pale tummy getting heavier and heavier, painted in red lines from her lacquered nails. Oh. I’m so round. Squirming with his cock twitching, Bucky whimpers, dumbfounded, and swept away in the sight. He pushes his stomach into her hands, electricity shooting through him with the way Mommy hefts up his wobbling, gurgling stomach, taking the weight for a moment. Playing with him. His body.
“Yeah, that’s it,” her voice purrs, encouraging, “you’re so round and already so fat. Mommy’s making you so fat. Ruining your figure, aren’t I? Feedin’ you too much and now breeding you too good…” Bucky moans loud enough for it to echo off the shower walls, his brain nothing but bright white, hot static “-though, pity, we're not even halfway through yet… and you said you’d take whatever Mommy had to give you. You’ll just have to stretch bigger for Mommy, huh? Even if it hurts?”
Bucky only moans, “yes!” but he continues pleading in his melted brain, his tangled tongue just doesn’t work too well anymore, please, please, please. Make me as big as you need! Inflate me! Please! I’m yours, I’m yours!
And he will. He’s gonna- gonna get so fucking big taking everything she will give him.
Natasha turns the water on higher and keeps the flow coming faster and harder, swelling him hugely until he can’t fucking take standing anymore. Between the water itself and the flow of water pressing on his prostate and insides, his cock is hot and leaking, twitching with every pat-pat and slap of Mommy’s hands on his rounding tummy. With every bit of dirty talk she lets slip-free: good boy, such a big, good boy, take it, yeah, yeah, take it, you’re so bloated, baby, look at that… my little water balloon isn’t so little anymore, huh? Bucky whimpers and wiggles, panting through his open mouth, unable to pick his jaw up off the floor because the bottom of his fucking stomach feels tight and like he can’t take anymore and it must be true because the top of his gut is beginning to blow up too. The water is working its way all the way through him! Oh, God! Groaning, he clamps his eyes shut; swaying a little, slouching where he stands, Bucky is pulled forward by the huge amount of water inside him.
Mommy understands his incoherency and his trembling, unsteady muscles. Shushing him and pausing the flow.
“Oooooooh, fuck,” Bucky moans, his hands have been placed back on his gut, Natasha’s doing.
“Naughty boy,” she half-heartedly scolds him for swearing but is instead too preoccupied with guiding his hands in circles over his own gut. Making him feel himself. Touch himself. Round. Big. Swollen. Heavy. Full. All of the words to describe the feeling shoot through Bucky, working the knot inside of him tighter. Getting his fever to spike. It feels incredible. So hot. It’s easier to stay upright without the water continuing but… ultimately he misses it still. He wants more. He’s addicted. But he can’t take more like this.
Head turned back to look at Mommy over his shoulder, Bucky blinks his eyes open, surprised by the number of tears built up, unspilled, in his vision. Blurring the world. He hopes she can see that he still wants to keep going in his eyes, looking, starved, and then nuzzling her.
She does understand and because she’s smart - not dumb like Bucky is, swollen and so fucking unbearably turned on by it that his brain is broken - she solves his problem of joints and muscles not wanting to work. Under too much incredible weight.
“Too heavy?” She asks, knowing. He nods anyway, going along with every one of her games. “Yeah?” Her touch over his stretched, sensitive belly might as well be her teasing the shaft of his cock. So good. “Is this big belly too round and full for you to stand or walk, hmm? Is my baby gonna have to go on bed rest? Growing too big for you to move around…” fuck. That thought is nearly too much for Bucky. It nearly kills him where he already stands on thin ice. “Yeah, yeah, gonna put you on bed rest so all you gotta do is lay under this huge thing-” she grabs and jiggles his belly. So full and sloshy that all Bucky can do is pant and weakly whimper “-and grow even bigger for me. Don’t worry though,” she kisses his jaw sweetly. Her teeth meet his flesh shortly after. Bucky groans. The underside of his gut is messy and wet with his pre-come, this is turning him on so much. Too much. And that touch of shame is only getting him to burn hotter too. Paradoxical. “I’ll still rub your feet, I know your ankles are swollen, carrying all of this for me all the time.”
All the allusions to pregnancy have his head spinning. This shouldn’t fucking turn him on so much. He knows he doesn’t have the parts to be pregnant and even if he did… Nat wouldn’t be able to get him pregnant, she doesn’t have the parts to do that either but- something about it does turn him on. So much. It turns him on so much and it’s so potent. So shameful too. Flushing him from the strain of his skin trying to hold in so much water and from the embarrassment of being unbearably aroused from this.
“Here,” she says finally, leading him back to the slotted bench. However. Before she lets him sit, she has him bend over. Leaning on his elbows, exposing his stuffed pussy to her. Clenching and fluttering. Especially clenching when she - with a warning to keep everything she’s already given him - pulls the enema toy out of him. He whines, core molten hot. She tells him to shut his greedy mouth because he already has so much in him, he can’t possibly feel empty (even though he does but… he’s just greedier than she thinks he is), besides, he’ll get it back soon enough.
Carefully, slowly, Bucky moves himself to sit up, positioned perfectly for her to slip the toy (with minimal loss of water) back inside him, the hose going between slots in the bench so he can still fill up while sitting comfortably. Mommy is so good to hi-
Oh.
Blinding hot lightning flashes through him when the water starts again. His plump, swollen, and now once more growing tummy rests in his lap like this. Sitting. So easily. So heavy and hiding the way his cock is harder than diamonds, halfway down his thighs. It doesn’t feel like he’s that fucking large though. Not when he’s sitting down. It’s tricked his body into thinking he’s not as full as he is. Easing his muscles. Giving him more space to inflate and fill and-
“Mommy-” Bucky moans. Rubbing his stomach as it bubbles and fills. Expanding under his fingers, pushing his hands wider and wider apart, bulging from the rest of his body.
“Look at you,” she pinches his cheek and that too makes him mortified in the best way, “all round and heavy, all for Mommy. If you weren’t so fucking big, I could eat you up. You’re so pretty like this. ” Her grin is predatory. Bucky swallows, a whine stuck in his throat while his melted brain chants yes yes yes.
Then, from the shower caddy, Mommy pulls out a little bottle.
Bucky doesn’t recognize that it’s lotion until she’s popped the cap and is rubbing it all over him- her touch is slick and soothing to his tortured skin. He can’t stop the punched-out sound that follows her touch, groaning, he wants to push up into her wonderful touch but he’s held down by all the water inside him. Swollen too heavy to move. Sloshing with all of the massive weight. He looks past his due date for sure. Ready to pop, so full, so overgrown. And it’s so tight. Helped by Mommy’s soothing but still. So tight. So heavy.
So heavy and rooooound.
“Gotta keep those stretchmarks from coming in,” Mommy sighs. She’s standing on her knees in front of him now. Squeezing more lotion into one hand to spread thickly over his bulging middle. His skin is pink with tension and he can’t breathe. There’s no room for his lungs. Inflated. so. big. “Didn’t realize I could make you so fucking huge,” she says, pretending to be shocked, “wouldn’t think my baby would be that big, would you?”
And- fuck. Yeah, he wouldn’t. She’s tiny. Petite. But he’s so big and heavy like this. Fat and round. Bloated up like a fucking beach ball at its limits. Straining. Just the way he wants. He’d only change if it meant he could grow more.
“But here you are.” Her teeth meet his love handle as she bends forward to bite him. He gasps, eyes watering more. “You look so fat. So pregnant.” Natasha’s voice only has gotten more breathy, he knows this shit turns her on too but having evidence makes him shudder as much as he can, held down like he is. For a moment, he aches to know how wet she is, if she touched herself or let Bucky do it… could she get off in the snap of someone’s fingers? But the flow of water is still going and his thoughts drain from his head, too turned on to think. He’s still getting tighter, tighter, and tighter. The pressure is only made bearable by knowing that Mommy knows best and she will know when to stop. When he takes enough, she’ll stop. It’s amazing how fucking huge he’s getting in the process though. His tummy is hot and distended, filling his entire goddamn lap now. Getting tighter at the top and rounding out wider at the sides.
With his hands on his own stomach, rubbing his skin, and his head thrown back against the shower wall, panting, Bucky surrenders himself even more fully to it- if it’s even possible to submit more. He’s picturing that it’s more than water filling him. Bucky is picturing that it’s her baby (and maybe, hopefully, more than one at that). Even her come… his gut clenches tight, unbearably hot for the idea. Her come drenching his insides, readying him to be pregnant for her. In the process of knocking him up; a tank for all of her release.
Bucky, with his brain melting out of his ears, whines the only word he can think, “Mommyyy, mommy, m-”
“Shh,” she coos, finished with rubbing another squirt of lotion into his skin. Patting his tight tummy. Telling him, “shh, you’re doing so good. We’re almost done. Almost. You look so good, little balloon.” Again her teeth meet his swollen flesh. He moans. “My baby oven, aren’t you?” The sound that Bucky makes is debauched. Mommy pays his desperation no mind, lips to his skin, murmuring, “getting so big, baby.”
Bucky shivers yet again- he can’t stop. This is all too hot for him to sit still. And his own hands push harder than they should into his bowing out sides - it hurts a little - but he can’t help that either. Mommy has the front of his massive tummy covered, rubbing him, but he still wants to touch it. He needs to feel it. God, it’s like the skin from his back is being stretched forward, around his sides. His stomach is so large. And getting larger. He would look down at it as it unrounds into his lap but he might pass out from sheer arousal.
Right now, the water isn’t flowing as fast, it’s maybe at the slow speed they first started with (it’s so hard to tell when he’s so turned on and hazy), but it feels like it might as well be pouring in. Pressure is mounting inside him. Water is bubbling and flowing. He’s so bloated. Holy fuck. Cock so fucking hard because of it; almost like his cock and gut are one, swollen and hot, his arousal tied directly to his gluttony. It’s fucking filthy.
Yet… he still wants more.
Mommy rubs the very top of his gut now, emphasizing where it juts out from his ribs impossibly. Oh, God. Tears sting in his eyes, under clamped shut eyelids. She’s humming happily as if she would rather do nothing- rather be nowhere than turning her baby into a goddamn blimp. A water balloon. Her baby oven. Bucky’s toes curl hard against the shower floor, a wanton whine strung out from his lungs into the humid, hot air.
Swelling.
Bloating.
Growing.
And just when Bucky thinks he might actually burst, whining constantly, he’s so, so tight and so completely full of water, Mommy pats his tummy sharply. His muscles jolt as much as he can while immobilized by his own greed. It hurts. Yet it feels so good. He doesn’t understand how something can be both but he doesn’t have to understand. Mommy knows enough for the both of them. And smirking, she salaciously purrs, “so tight. Like a drum, or… like a little tick. Swollen up with your meal until you’re gonna pop, huh?”
Discombobulated, Bucky nods furiously. Yes, yes, he’s about to pop. Mommy is so right. She’s always right.
His hands make the journey all the way to the front of his heavy tummy - his swollen gut - and it’s devastating. He can hardly reach. With his eyes shut… he can’t truly tell how big he is but feeling it? Ooohh, fuck. Feeling the roundest, biggest part of his engorged body is too good to describe. Hotter than hell. He can’t stop panting, short, punched-out breaths because his lungs don’t have any room. And he can’t stop gasping because his gut is so heavy on his cock that it’s constantly firing bolts of pleasure through him.
So good.
“But… Mommy doesn’t want that,” she hums, picking up where she left off, her hand flicking the water to a stop. Bucky wants to weep in thanks. “She doesn’t want you to pop ‘cause then you won’t be able to keep holding all this-” she grabs and jiggles his belly, his eyes roll back into his head, on edge without a finger being laid on his cock “-for her. Mommy would hate to lose her perfect baby oven.”
Bucky exhales noisily, pushing the minimal amount of air that will fit inside him out. Relieved. The pressure inside him is no longer going up, growing, instead, it’s staying the same. Reminding him with the sting of stretching skin at his sides that he’s full. Fuller than I could make myself. Mommy did it. Mommy made me so fucking full. So fat. So pregnant and heavy.
Trying to center himself and finding it impossible, Bucky’s head feels like it has flown off his shoulders, spinning too fast. His body is hot, feverish, and coated in sweat. He’s so fucking hard that it’s painful- aching, throbbing under the heft of his gut. And, shit, that’s only if he ignores his tank of a belly which is otherwise bloated to the in-between of a beach and yoga ball. Unbelievably full. Impossibly round. Gloriously heavy.
“There you go.” She’s rubbing him where he hasn’t got his hands on himself, cradling his belly. Shushing him. Soothing. “Got all of it, haven’t you, Buck?”
Bucky can’t find his tongue. He can’t find a single thought in his head that’s not Mommy and that’s not full. It’s on a fucking loop, touching his obscenely swollen stomach while thinking so full, Mommy, Mommy, I’m so full. Mommy made me so full. Fullfullfullfull. Mommy. Mommy made me so big and full. So heavy. So tight and full. So pregnant and full with everything she wanted to give me.
It’s a good thing Mommy knows he loses his head when they play like this because otherwise, she could wait all night for a coherent answer and never get one. The closest thing is the desperate, strung-out moan that he lets go of, sounding suspiciously like yessssss.
She laughs, chuckling to herself. “I’m glad you like it-” Bucky’s hit with a slap of shame, her words remind him that most people wouldn’t like this. He shouldn’t like it so much. And yet… he’s about to burst from being so full but he’s also about to burst, he’s so turned on. Cock throbbing. “-‘cause Mommy is keeping you like this. You’re just gonna be Mommy’s little, well, not so little anymore, so… Mommy’s big, fat trophy wife. Kept stuffed full and pregnant all the time.”
There is something about the gut-punch of Mommy’s big, fat trophy wife that Bucky feels in his teeth. He whines so loud and desperately that it hurts his throat.
Natasha makes a predatory growl-like sound. Her teeth meet the soft flesh of his thigh and then her tongue, lapping away the hurt. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Thinking about being my come dump? Being my little breeder? Never not heavy like you are right now?”
All of it rises up inside of Bucky. Suddenly. It gets into the back of his throat, blocking off his breathing. So hot. So, so much of every shameful fantasy he’s had at night, alone in his room before he met Natasha and opened up to her about this along with every other fucking filthy kink he has. Moaning in his pillow, humping his bed, getting off to the idea of it. Being filled to the brim. At first, telling himself he just wanted to be stuffed with toys. Then he thought maybe he was just a feedee and, yes, being stuffed with food is so good but- but, goddamn, it’s got nothing on the fantasy of being claimed and own, full of fertile seed and made to be so, so fertile and lush himself: a fat, round gut heavy with Mommy’s baby, heavy tits, bloated and sensitive with milk, and wide hips that speak of all the heavy, rich calories he’s had, succumbing to his cravings and eating for two.
There’s something about it that he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but it makes him so aroused that it’s blinding. It’s bright and hot and-
Too much.
It’s too much.
Mommy says that and she keeps fucking going, telling him how good he’s gonna look, this big already and only going to grow for the next nine months. Knocked up right- the way he’s meant to be. Doing what his body is meant to be doing- growing. Nice and full and pregnant. Stuffed big and heavy but still aching, begging, for Mommy’s strap to give him more. And it’s all Bucky can do to roll his hips up sharply, flicking his throbbing, hurting cock into the underside of his massive belly.
He comes with a choked scream. Trembling from head to toe. His jaw clenched, toes curled, and his nerves on fire.
Bucky sees the edge of oblivion, nearly blacking out as his cock pumps out wave after wave of come, but he also feels Mommy rise from her knees to straddle his thick thigh. Gasping, “good, so good,” as she rubs herself against his thigh and stomach. Every bumb of her wet heat against him makes him float higher, it jostles the massive weight of water, sloshing audibly inside him.
He feels like he might come again. And he might. He does? He comes again, dry, when she slips her own fingers into the front of her panties, doing something to herself that has her head flying back; going silent as she finishes. Hips stuttering and grinding roughly against his chubby thigh.
Still hazy himself - the last embers of his high exploding as Mommy reached her high too, exhausted from so much pleasure - Bucky watches through half-lidded eyes as she removes her hand from her panties. Her fingers glisten with all of her wetness.
Fascinated, Bucky watches lazily Mommy lifts her dripping fingers to his mouth.
“Mmmnh!” He moans around them, licking the briny, rich taste of her off them eagerly, dreamily thinking that perhaps, swallowing her slick, watery spend like this… she might actually knock him up. Fuck. His cock gives one last twitch where it’s buried under the balloon of his gut. He’d be so heavy then… even heavier than when he’s full of water and about to pop like an overfilled balloon. Christ. He aches for that.
One day,
he thinks tiredly, falling asleep where he’s sitting but it’s okay. Mommy will take care of him.