ashychangeling - Tumblr blog

ashychangeling · 8 days ago

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so good. Love all the questions answered. I guess steve is dead. I love the incorporation of winter soldier story and the end of endgame (with steve leaving). They're so cute and the blood part was kinda hot lol.

Tangled (#4)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. I don't know if there will be eventual teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 6.5k.

Previous Chapter

He watched her as she leaned back, all smiles and soft laughter like she had any idea what she’d just done.

She didn’t know.

She couldn’t possibly know.

First, her scent. He hadn’t expected it to stick to him like that, to curl in his mind and get under his skin. He thought it would be like everything else human, unfamiliar and forgettable. But no. Hers was something he couldn’t quite name but wanted to drown in if he let himself.

Second, her offer. She offered herself to him, bearing her throat in a way that was both foolish and... intimate in a way she clearly didn’t understand. It wasn’t something you did unless you chose. And she had just done it without thinking like it was nothing.

Third, the effect. He clenched his jaw, still with his gaze locked on her, but not really seeing her. He was too busy feeling the way his body had responded to her and the way her scent tangled inside him like a hook he couldn’t pull out. His muscles were still too tight, his pulse pounded behind his ears, and deep in his gut, something hot and restless stirred. Something he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember.

And last… he let her. He let her come close, let her press her face to his neck, and breathe him in. Let her do something she shouldn’t have done. Something that, if she knew anything about his kind, she would realize was an unspoken claim, a dangerous dance they had just stepped into.

Now, she was sitting there, smiling like they had shared some simple, innocent exchange. Like she hadn’t just shifted the ground beneath him. His gaze drifted to her hands, still moving the yarn, oblivious to the storm she’d stirred. He exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, trying to force down the heat crawling under his skin.

"Enough," he muttered, though whether it was for her or himself, he didn’t know.

She looked up, blinking at him, a little surprised but not scared. "Oh... okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-"

He shook his head, glancing away toward the sea, needing to not look at her for a moment. "No sorry," he said, but his voice was rougher than he intended.

"Alright," she said quietly, returning to her crochet. "Just... tell me if I overstep, okay?"

His throat worked as he swallowed hard.

You already did, he thought bitterly. And I let you.

He shifted in place, twitching his tendrils around her, unsure whether to keep her close or flee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure which one he wanted more.

----

She sat on her usual rock, but the yarn in her hands moved slower than usual, as she flicked her gaze toward the waves more often than her stitches.

He wasn’t there.

Not that she expected him to show up every day, but after everything that had happened -the exchange of names, the strange but oddly gentle "scent exchange," and the way he'd gotten so close- she thought maybe she’d see him again.

She let out a slow breath, fumbling on the next stitch.

What did you think, that you could befriend him? she scolded herself, narrowing her eyes as she yanked the yarn a little tighter than necessary. You’re lucky he didn’t drag you under the water. Maybe being near him makes you stupid.

Still, a small part of her countered: But he didn’t hurt you. He could have, but he didn’t. Her eyes wandered back to the sea, scanning the rolling waves out of habit. But there was nothing, no shadow, no flicker of movement between the rocks.

Gone.

Maybe it was better this way. Safer.

----

Far from the shore, beneath the churning sea, Bucky lingered in the colder, deeper waters, resting against a rock shelf that jutted from the ocean floor. The currents brushed along his skin and the slow sway of his tentacles, but he felt no comfort in them.

He had put distance between them, just like he told himself he should.

Because what had he been doing? Letting a human get so close. Acting like he could- like he wanted more.

His jaw clenched.

It wasn’t her, he told himself. It was about him. His isolation. His weakness. Years spent avoiding everyone and everything had fucked up his mind until even a scrap of befriending had felt like a hook through the ribs. And she had been kind.

She didn’t even know what she was doing, how close she had come to crossing other lines she didn’t understand. He had let her. He had wanted to let her. Bucky clenched a fist in his lap, rubbing over his face with the other as if he could scrub the thoughts away.

Stupid.

He should have never let it get that far. Never let her sit so close. Never let her touch him, scent him, look at him the way she did.

Still…

The image of her tilting her head, baring her neck to him, flickered behind his eyes like a brand. The soft curve of her throat. The warmth of her breath. The way she smiled at him like he was someone, not something.

His fingers dug into his palm. He didn’t trust himself around her. So for two days, he kept to deeper waters, pretending distance was what he wanted.

The third day, when the sun began to bleed its colors over the horizon and the cliffs stood sharp and silent against the sea, she still sat on her rock, waiting.

But Bucky wasn’t there.

Because he was far, far from that shore, swimming with relentless purpose along darkening waters, leaving the familiar cliffs behind as he cut through the waves like a shadow. His chest ached, more from what he felt than the strain of swimming so far.

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But still, he told himself, if anyone could make sense of this mess in his head... it would be him.

Steve.

The name echoed like an old wound, sharp and raw.

Steve, who had chosen -her- the humans over everything they were. Steve, who had left him to rot in the depths alone, abandoned with nothing but his anger and bitterness for company.

And yet, here he was. Seeking him out like a fool.

Just one talk, he told himself. Maybe that will set me straight again.

Because he shouldn't be thinking about her. Shouldn't be lingering near the shore like some lost thing, waiting to hear her voice, see her smile.

The first town passed under his gaze, and the lights of human dwellings glowed warm and bright through the dusk. He stayed out of reach, only his eyes above water, scanning, searching. Nothing. This wasn’t the one.

The second town, was the same.

By the time he reached the third, the sky had turned to deep velvet blue, with stars scattered across its surface. He lingered near the rocky inlet where the cliffs dropped steeply into the sea, where he knew Steve had once made his home. Or maybe still did, he hoped.

The place was quiet.

Still, Bucky waited until the moon was high, waves lapping against the shore with a soft hush. He called out, a low, resonant sound that vibrated in his chest and was meant to carry far beyond human ears. A call meant for one of his own. But the night swallowed it whole.

He waited, floating just beyond the rocks, with his eyes fixed on the empty shore, on the little lights far away in town.

Called again.

Nothing.

He stayed there for hours, watching, waiting. Each time he raised his voice, it felt smaller. Lonelier.

You really left me, didn’t you?

The thought burned sharper than he wanted to admit.

How long had it been since Steve left? Sixty Winters? More? He couldn’t remember anymore. Time slipped strange and fast when you were half in the world and half out of it. Maybe Steve had aged since he had taken a human life, and left behind all that they were. Maybe he was long gone.

He stayed until dawn streaked pale silver over the horizon, but no voice ever came back.

----

Instead, something else heard him. Ears in the deep, sharp, ancient, and angry. They heard his call and knew the voice that carried it.

Him.

The one who should have been gone.

The one who deserved to be gone.

As Bucky swam away, cutting a lonely path back toward familiar waters, he didn’t realize he was being followed. Shadows moved beneath him, sleek and fast, like knives slicing through the dark water. They had heard him.

He is alive, they whispered among themselves. Alive when others-

The thought didn’t need to be finished. They would fix that mistake.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t sense them at first. His mind was swirling with heavy memories, old wounds torn open by the empty place where Steve should have been.

Sixty Winters, maybe more. He’d lost count. Long enough to almost forget what it had felt like to trust.

To forget the time he had believed in a human once, believed enough to let them get close. Close enough to chain him up and cage him. He could still remember the sharp sting of iron on his wrists, the cold bite of hooks that pierced his flesh and held him up for human eyes to gawk at. The glass walls had kept him trapped while they poked, prodded, and tested.

But worse than the chains had been the magic. The dark, twisting spell that had turned him into a puppet, their creature to command.

He had been forced to do unspeakable things in their stupid wars sinking ships and artifacts in the depths. Things that had stained the waters with blood, but not only theirs, his own kind's too. He had been their monster, their nightmare pet unleashed in the depths.

Until Steve.

Steve had found him, broken and maddened, and dragged him back from that abyss. He had fought for him, and saved him when no one else would.

But their people?

They hadn’t seen a survivor, they had seen a traitor. A weapon turned against them. They hadn’t cared that he had been forced, that the magic had ripped his will away. They had only seen the carnage he left behind.

And they had wanted him dead for it.

Now his call had gone out into the sea… and it had been heard not precisely by Steve.

----

After a week of not seeing him, she told herself it was none of her business. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him. Every time she sat on her rock since day one, working her yarn, her eyes would flick to the waves, searching for a glimpse of a blue tentacle or a pale, sharp gaze watching her from the shallows.

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed. By day five, she realized she was more of the second. By day seven, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself as she shoved a container of strawberries into her bag, along with a flashlight -just in case- and tugged a jacket around her shoulders. "Absolutely stupid."

Still, her feet found the path toward the cliffs, leading her to the cave she swore she wouldn’t step into again.

But here she was.

The morning tide was still low, giving her enough room to slip inside. The sky outside was overcast, with heavy clouds dimming the sun, making the inside of the cave darker than before. She clicked on her flashlight as she moved deeper, and her steps echoed faintly against the stone walls. The place looked empty.

But she had learned her lesson, that didn’t mean it was.

Her fingers strengthened her grip around the flashlight as she stepped forward, and her eyes scanned every shadow. That’s when she saw it. Dark crimson smeared along the rock near the entrance.

Her heart gave a sharp thump.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, swallowing. "Maybe he had breakfast... fish? shark? Whatever he eats?" But as she moved deeper, more stains appeared.

Thicker. Darker.

Smeared across the walls, pooling faintly in crevices along the stone floor. And the farther in she went, the worse it got. Her fingers tightened again on the flashlight, and she swallowed hard. As she followed the trail farther into the cave, the nerves twisted her guts.

If this was his blood, he was probably badly hurt.

But if it wasn’t...

Her chest felt tighter at the thought.

If it wasn’t his, then someone else had been here. Someone who hadn’t walked out. And if he had done this…

Her heart thudded painfully at the realization. Had she been lucky? Had she just caught him on good days? The idea of those sharp teeth flashing in a smile -or a snarl- and those powerful tentacles coiled around her, not playfully but to crush...

"Shit..." she exhaled, taking a step back, darting the flashlight to every corner as if expecting to see a body.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. Still, she didn’t leave.

Because if he was hurt, if something had happened to him, she wanted to know. She needed to know, even if every instinct told her to turn around and never look back… as she should, if she had at least a pair of functioning brain cells.

She took another cautious step forward, sweeping the beam of her flashlight over the cave floor, when something sharp caught the light, glinting cold and wet. Slowly, she crouched, careful not to slip on the damp stone. The object lay half-hidden in a dark pool that was too thick to be water.

Reaching out, she used two fingers to nudge it closer into the light.

A broken blade. It was jagged at the end like it had snapped in a struggle. Strange metal, unlike anything she’d seen, and stained deep crimson.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

He didn’t carry weapons. She had never seen him with anything but his strong body and sharp teeth, and those had always been enough.

Which meant...

"Someone was here..." she whispered to herself, "Someone hurt him."

She rose slowly, closing her fingers around the broken blade before she could think better of it. It was heavier than she expected, and the dark blood was sticky and half-dried. Her gaze darted around the hollow space, half-expecting something -or someone- to leap from the shadows.

She shouldn’t be here. She knew that.

But the image of that fierce, watchful creature who had let her sit so close, who had taken strawberries from her hand and showed her how to greet in his custom, bleeding and alone somewhere, pushed her fear to the side.

She hesitated, then took a breath and called out, softly at first:

"...Bucky?" The sound of her voice bounced back to her, echoing around the cave.

She swallowed and tried again, louder this time, and her voice cracked slightly as it carried into the darkness. "Bucky?!"

Silence.

Her pulse quickened, but she pressed on, stepping over a slick smear of blood that made her stomach lurch.

"Hey! If you're here… say something! Please!" she called again.

The flashlight trembled slightly in her hand as she strained to hear anything beyond her own breathing.

----

The water around him was dark and heavy with blood and silt. His own blood. It clouded his senses, making his thoughts sluggish as they drifted like the slow sway of the current in the pool.

He had been there for... days? Maybe more. Time had slipped away from him in the haze of pain. Every breath burned. His body throbbed in a dull rhythm, like the ocean’s pull against the rocks.

But he was still alive.

Barely.

It had cost him, the fight. No weapons, only claws, teeth, and rage. Enough to take them down in the end, but with a price. His side was torn open, his arm half-numb from a deep gash, and one of his tendrils had been severed at the tip, curling uselessly beneath him.

He had dragged himself back to the safety of his cave, to the pools where the saltwater could at least try to mend what was left of him. But it wasn’t enough. Not fast enough.

He was drifting again, his mind slipping, when something shifted above him.

A light. Faint, but sharp enough to stab through the gloom. Moving, searching. He tensed in instinctive warning, but the motion sent a bolt of pain shooting through his battered body. His jaw clenched, holding in a groan. He wasn’t ready. Not for more. His skin prickled when he felt the faint thud of steps against the stone floor, distant but clear. Someone was there.

Had humans ventured again? It wouldn’t be the first time someone wandered too far, looking for something they shouldn’t. He tried to shift, to sink deeper, but his muscles spasmed in protest, too weak to obey.

Then her voice reached him. Muffled. Distant.

"Bucky...?"

He froze.

Not a stranger.

Her.

His mind swam, and confusion cut through the haze of pain. Why was she here?

She called again, closer this time. "Bucky?!"

He wanted to answer. He parted his lips and tried to force out something -anything- but underwater, all that escaped was a rough, broken sound that no human ear would catch.

His pulse thudded weakly.

As her steps echoed nearer, he forced his sluggish mind to think. She would walk right past him, and wouldn’t even see him in the murk. And part of him wanted that, wanted her gone before she saw what was left of him.

But another part, a part that had grown restless since meeting her, didn’t want her to leave. Gritting his teeth, he forced his tentacles to move, though every motion sent sharp jabs of pain radiating from torn flesh. Still, he pushed and stirred the water just enough to ripple across the pool’s surface.

Notice me, he thought. See that I'm here.

As her light wavered over the dark water, the surface trembled faintly, disturbed by the slow drag of a blood-slick tendril just beneath. He pressed a hand to his side again, as his vision narrowed from the effort.

Just as she was about to turn left, something flickered at the edge of her vision, a ripple across the pool’s surface. She froze and slowly, turned the flashlight until it landed on the water.

There.

A tendril.

Blue-black, slick and glistening, moving sluggishly, not with strength, but like it took effort to even float. It splashed weakly, sending tiny waves against a waterline that seemed darker than it should be.

Blood.

Her eyes darted to the stones surrounding the pool, and there, smeared across them in long streaks, was the same dark stain.

He’s here.

"God..." she whispered, with a trembling voice.

The flashlight’s beam trembled with her grip as she moved closer, careful not to slip on the damp rocks. She knelt by the pool's edge, and her jeans soaked through at the knees, but she barely noticed.

"Hey..." she breathed softly as if speaking too loud would make things worse. "I see you now..."

She tried to aim the light deeper into the pool, but the water was too murky -too dark- to see anything below. Only that single limp tendril breaking the surface, swaying with the slight motion of the water. Her heart ached at the sight.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached out a hand toward the appendage. "I'm here," she murmured, though she doubted he could hear her "You're not alone, okay? I'm right here." Her fingers hesitated a second above the cool, wet skin, then brushed against it in a light, careful touch. Just enough to let him know she was there.

----

The tendril, sensing her touch, went nearly limp now that the effort of moving was no longer needed. But before it fully stilled, it shifted -ever so slightly- curling weakly around her hand and wrist in a slow, instinctive motion.

Her breath hitched at the gesture, something in it was far too vulnerable, too human in its need for contact. She squeezed back gently, giving a reassuring hold, stroking her thumb along the smooth, cool skin in slow circles. "It's okay..." she whispered, again, not sure if the words reached him but needing to say them anyway. "I'm here."

They stayed like that for a long moment. Just her, kneeling at the edge of the pool, holding on to him as if her touch could imbue some life into him. But as the time stretched, her mind kept racing. What now? What could she do?

She had nothing, no medicine, no first aid kit that could help him. And as much as she wanted to jump in, to check on him properly, the water looked freezing, and she hadn’t brought anything to change into after diving. She wasn’t in any condition to risk getting soaked and sick. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed hard while looking at the dark water, feeling small and useless for the first time in a long while.

She stayed by the poolside longer than she meant to, with her hand still cradled by the weak tendril wrapped around her wrist. Her mind spun in circles, searching for a plan, for anything she could do.

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance of the cave. The tide wouldn't rise for a while yet, so she still had time to make it back home and return before the path was swallowed by water.

"Okay," she whispered to herself as her mind solidified the plan. "Okay, I need to go get some things. First aid stuff... maybe food? Towels..." She bit her lip, thinking. But when she shifted to pull her hand away, his grip around her wrist suddenly tightened, surprisingly strong for how weak he looked.

Her heart ached at the desperation in that small gesture.

"Hey, hey..." she murmured softly, reaching with her free hand to gently stroke over the tendril, moving her thumb in slow, calming motions. "I'm not leaving for good, I promise." She kept her voice low, soothing, "I’ll be back, alright? Just need to get you some help." Still, he clung to her for a long moment longer, as if weighing whether he could trust her to come back. "I promise," she said again, firmer this time. "I’ll be back. Just hold on a little longer."

Finally, the tendril loosened -reluctantly- slipping slowly from her wrist and resting against the rock once more.

She exhaled shakily, giving it one last gentle touch before getting to her feet.

----

As she made her way toward the entrance of the cave, she paused just long enough to glance back over her shoulder. The beam of her flashlight caught the faint glisten of his tendril as it slipped, slow and tired, back into the water.

Once her footsteps faded, the silence filled the space again. Left alone, Bucky let himself drift, too exhausted to hold himself upright in the water. The faint warmth of her hand still lingered like a ghost against his battered limb.

He let the darkness close in for a while, letting himself float just beneath the surface, with his mind foggy with pain and old memories that clawed their way through that limbo.

But then, ripples.

A soft disruption stirred the water above him, gentle but enough to break through his haze. His senses sharpened in a sluggish pulse and he turned his head weakly, blinking against the dim light filtering from above, trying to catch a glimpse, unsure if what he sensed was real or a trick of his mind.

----

Her footsteps echoed in the cave walls as she walked toward the pool, with her arms laden with a bag full of supplies, whatever she had been able to grab in a hurry. First aid kit, some frozen fish, also towels and clothes for herself… it had been all she could think of. Her heart was pounding harder than when she first left.

Her eyes flicked to the water as she set the bag down. There was no sign of movement. Just the glassy, dark surface, betraying nothing. She sighed, rolling her shoulders as if giving herself courage, and then began to peel off her jacket and shoes, already regretting the decision but knowing she had no other choice. The water would be freezing.

Fishing out a pair of old, ridiculous swimming goggles she found in a drawer, -probably left behind by whoever lived in the house before- she slipped them on, feeling a little absurd but too anxious to care. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the water, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the cold cut through her skin like a knife.

She paused, cursing, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment, and trembling as she forced herself to adjust to the temperature. The flashlight shook slightly in her grip, casting shivering beams of light into the gloomy space. The beam cut through the dark, but the water was too thick with the disturbed silt, swirling lazily in the ray of light. She couldn’t see a thing.

But he could.

From the depths, Bucky watched. Or rather, what was left of him did. He was barely clinging to consciousness, but the light was impossible to miss. It cut through the dark like a lifeline. And her shape above, haloed and wavering, made his chest ache.

She had really come back.

Slowly, almost without willing it, his body drifted upward, following the light like some deep-sea creature drawn to the surface. His battered limbs didn’t want to cooperate, but the instinct of survival was stronger.

She didn’t see him until he was closer, just flickers of something big moving just beyond the reach of her flashlight. The vague outline of his body, the dark shimmer of his tentacles, almost blended with the black of the pool. She didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing under one of his arms and tried to pull him upward.

"God, you're heavy..." she inwardly thought, straining to lift him enough to bring him closer to the surface. Her muscles burned almost instantly with the effort, and her grip slipped slightly on his wet skin.

Her chest ached.

She broke the surface with a loud gasp, and the cold air burned her lungs as she coughed, trying to get her breath back. Damn it. The asthma was not helping. She braced herself on the rocky edge, breathing fast, with the flashlight still clutched tightly in one hand.

When she glanced sideways, she saw his body float up beside her, half-limp. “You helped yourself up, huh?" she murmured, with a shaky voice.

She pressed her palm gently to his shoulder, reassuring him as he drifted closer. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell how aware of her presence or his surroundings he really was. But now that he was at the surface, she could try to do something.

"Okay, okay," she whispered, swallowing hard as she glanced at the rocky edges of the pool. "We’re getting you out. One way or another."

But looking at him -at his size, at the way his body looked so heavy even floating- she doubted she could do it alone. “Think you can help me out here?" she asked softly, knowing there might be no answer.

She tried to haul him up with all the strength she had left, but his body was just too heavy and uncooperative. Her fingers ached from the effort, and her muscles shook as she tried to get enough leverage, but it was like trying to drag a waterlogged tree. "Come on, help me out here," she muttered through gritted teeth, as her breath came out in sharp puffs that misted in the chilly air.

Finally, gasping and shivering, she let him slip back into the water for a moment as she crawled her way out of the pool, trembling from the cold and effort. The water streamed from her clothes, and her hair was plastered to her face as she wiped it back roughly, trying to think.

"Alright," she panted, sinking to her knees on the rocky edge, and leaning over him again. "Different approach." She grabbed one of his forearms and just pulled. The moment she tugged, a low, pained groan escaped from his throat. A sound full of agony and weakness that she hadn’t heard before.

"Shit," she whispered, swallowing hard. His arm, now that she was close, was lined with defensive cuts, raw and ugly, some shallow, others dangerously deep. "Sorry, big guy..." she breathed out, almost guilty, smoothing down his forearm briefly in an apologetic gesture before she gripped tighter. "I can't do more than this. You gotta help me, just a little. Please."

Then, a sharp intake of breath -pained and hissing- and his body stirred. She felt it, the muscles working under her hand, trembling as he gathered what little strength he had left. "That’s it," she encouraged, watching as he moved sluggishly, planting his free hand against the rock, trying to help her pull.

It was a slow, agonizing process. Every inch he moved closer to the edge was won through stubbornness on both of their parts. She leaned back, pulling as he tried to push, using whatever strength his battered body still had. When they finally got half of him out of the water, she let out a shaky laugh that died in her throat the moment she got a proper look at him.

"Oh... god," she breathed, and her eyes went wide as she took in the extent of the damage on his body. His pale skin was marred by deep, bleeding gashes. Jagged slices that could only have been made by blades, just like the broken piece she’d found earlier. But worse, so much worse, was the wound at his side, ragged, torn, and still leaking sluggish streams of dark blood that smeared over the rocks beneath him. It looked bad. Bad enough that her stomach twisted violently and her throat felt tight.

Her eyes flicked to her bag, to the first aid kit that suddenly seemed like a child’s plaything. "Shit... shit," she whispered again, pressing her hand briefly to her forehead as if that could help her think faster. She stared down at him, at the blood pooling around his torn body, mixing with the shallow water beneath them. It was worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, as panic crawled up her brain until something surfaced in her mind. The stories. The old tales whispered by the locals -the ones she always dismissed as nonsense. Sirens, creatures similar to him, who lured sailors to their deaths, yes, but not only as entertainment but also to feed on them. Devoured them to survive.

She swallowed. Her eyes darted down to him again. He was starting to drift, his eyes fluttering shut, shallow breaths, and too weak to even hold himself up.

"No no no, hey, hey! Stay with me!" she stammered, moving closer. Without thinking, she raised a hand and slapped his cheek, not enough to hurt, but just enough to keep him there, to force his attention back on her. "Look at me!"

His eyes cracked open, glassy and unfocused.

"I think..." she hesitated, swallowing down her fear. "I think I know something that could help. But you need to listen."

He blinked slowly, breathing harshly, and gave the slightest tilt of his head.

"You-" she licked her lips, and her heart raced so fast it felt like it would burst. "Your kind eat humans, yes? And if injured, that's a way to heal?"

At that, something flickered in his eyes. A dark glint -wary, conflicted- but beneath it, a flicker of recognition. Like a secret, she'd guessed too close to the truth.

She took a deep, trembling breath. "What if it was just... blood? Not- not all of me, not-" She faltered, and the words caught in her throat, but she forced herself to keep going. "Would that help you? Just enough to keep you alive?"

At her words, something dark flared again in his eyes. Not anger, more like a deep, ancient instinct stirring, something he was fighting hard to keep buried. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Enough... to mend," he rasped.

She exhaled slowly, some tension leaving her shoulders, just enough to move again. "Okay," she nodded, "okay. Then that's what we're gonna do."

But as she rolled up her drenched sleeve, exposing her forearm to him, she caught the way his gaze fixed on her skin, how his pupils widened, black almost swallowing blue. His body tensed, and his fingers twitched against the rock as if holding himself back.

The look on his face made her pause. He looked hungry. And more than that, conflicted. Like part of him wanted to pull away and hide, but the other part, the wounded, desperate part, was fighting to stay in control. "Hey..." she whispered, softer now, reaching out with her free hand to gently touch his cheek, drawing his gaze up to meet hers. "I trust you."

His brows knit together, and the muscles in his jaw worked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

"I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it," she added, brushing her thumb gently against his skin, as a reassurance.

His eyes closed tight like her words cut deeper than any blade. When he opened them again, the hunger was still there, -sharp and primal- but there was something softer, too. A flicker of control. Of gratitude. "I... will not take all," he said hoarsely,

Slowly, carefully, she offered her arm closer to him. "Come on, big guy. Let's get you through this."

His hand, cold and rough, trembled as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, guiding her closer. His eyes never left hers, searching for any hint of fear that might make him stop.

But she held it, giving a small nod. "I got you."

His lips pressed to her skin, and for a long, excruciating second, he just hovered there, with his breath shaking against her wrist. The instinct to bite down, to take, was overwhelming. It screamed through his body like a tidal wave, loud and deafening. His jaw ached from holding himself back, and his teeth clenched so tight they could've cracked. His kind was not gentle. When offered prey, they took, tearing flesh and bone until there was nothing left but silence.

But she wasn’t prey.

She offered part of herself, freely, trustingly.

Finally, he moved -carefully, deliberately- opening his mouth and letting his teeth pierce her skin with a precision that cost him all his focus.

The first sharp prick of his teeth made her inhale sharply. A faint, involuntary tremor ran through her arm as the initial sting bloomed into something warmer, deeper. She wasn’t sure if it was pain or something else entirely.

The taste of her blood, gods, it was like fire and life all at once. Sweet and warm, pouring over his tongue in a way that made his muscles coil tight and loose at the same time. His hands twitched, sharp nails grazing over her skin as his body screamed to hold her down, to drink deeper, faster, to take everything she had to offer and more.

But he didn’t.

Her breath came uneven as she watched him, locking her gaze on the way his lips sealed over her skin, on the way his throat worked as he swallowed. The sight, the feel of it, it was like she had fallen into some trance. Her limbs were heavy, and her mind sluggish, and she felt her body responding to the pull of his feeding. Was he doing this to her? Was this some kind of lure, some instinctual trick his kind possessed?

His eyes squeezed shut, and his whole body trembled with the effort it took to limit himself. He drank greedily -because he was starving, because every drop seemed to breathe strength back into his dying body- but still measured, still trying to keep some line between what he wanted and what he needed.

As the warm blood filled his mouth, he could feel the deeper wounds beginning to close from the inside, feel his body mending in a way that brought him back from that cliff’s edge of death. His lungs felt like they could take a full breath again. His mind was clearer, and his strength slowly unfurled like waking limbs.

But the hunger was still there.

Even when he knew it was enough -even if he knew that if he stopped now, and rested for a day or two, he would survive- his grip on her wrist strengthened, and his fingers curled possessively on her flesh. His jaw worked against her skin like he was trying to force himself to let go but couldn’t.

A small sound slipped from her throat -a barely-there whimper- when his grip briefly tightened, and his nails pressed just a little harder against her skin. His breath hitched against her wrist, and something in his chest rumbled, a deep, desperate sound that made her shiver.

Part of him wanted to drag her into the water, pull her close, and drink until there was nothing left in her but stillness, and then let the ocean to wash her away. The other part, the one that had pressed his nose against her neck and inhaled her scent wanted to…

A soft sound broke from his throat, something between a groan and a growl, muffled against her skin. His tendrils stirred weakly, shifting across the damp rock, aching to curl around her and keep her there, to not let her slip away.

But then her fingers threaded gently through his hair, and she whispered something he barely caught over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

"Hey... you're okay. You can stop now." Her voice, tender but strained, cut through the haze in his mind.

He swallowed thickly, still sensing her blood heavy on his tongue, and forced his teeth to release her wrist, leaving behind the dull ache of punctures and the slow, sluggish warmth of blood welling to the surface. He made a rough sound, part groan, part growl, as he slumped forward, pressing his forehead against her arm as if drained by his own restraint.

"Okay," she whispered again, as her other hand gently stroked along his shoulder as if soothing some wild creature. "That's enough, you’re okay."

He let out a breath, part relief, part remaining hunger that clouded the edges of his mind. But he didn’t move to bite again.

Didn’t dare.

Because whatever he was -monster, predator, or something in between- he didn’t want to be that to her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira @lazyneonrabbitt @vxllys @namjoohnie @sebastians-love @misspendragonsworld @thewriters64 @escapefromrealitylol @hi172826

dividers by @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader

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ashychangeling · 11 days ago

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I’m so fucking sick of AI

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ashychangeling · 15 days ago

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omg they finally kissed. I was wondering how this would work out with thomas always being there lol. Love this series. Excited for how their relationship will go.

Foundations (#6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky)

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 6.4.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Previous Chapter

Bucky exhaled through his nose as he threw another punch at the training bag and his knuckles landed with a solid thud against the reinforced material. The compound gym was mostly empty this early, which was fine by him. He never did well with crowds.

Steve stood a few feet away, casually wrapping his hands, watching with mild amusement. "You know, Buck, as the guys say, you look rested for once. Must be the extra help at home."

He grunted in response, not offering him much. It was true, having her around had helped. But thinking too much about that came with… complications.

And then, the doors swung open, and Sam walked in fresh from a run, with a towel slung around his neck. "I saw your nanny last night," he commented, pointing at Bucky like he was delivering breaking news. “Boy, can she dance.”

Bucky’s hand froze mid-punch for half a second. It was barely noticeable, but Steve caught it.

"Yeah?" Bucky forced his voice into something bored, tugging the wrap of his hand tighter than necessary.

"Yeah," Sam continued, oblivious -or maybe not- grabbing a water bottle from the rack. "Didn’t know she had it in her, but man, she was feeling that music."

Steve turned, brows raising ever so slightly in interest. Oh, he was going to have fun with this.

“What pub was this?” he asked, tone oh-so casual.

"Some place called The Velvet Pine," Sam said, stretching his arms. "Never been before. Seemed nice. Drinks were decent."

"Huh," Steve mused, rubbing his chin. "And who’d she dance with?"

Bucky knew exactly what the punk was doing.

Sam shrugged. "Started out with her friends, y'know, girls hyping each other up, just having fun. But eventually-" he took a long sip of water, "I saw her with some guy."

Bucky this time tightened the wraps around his wrist. The fabric stretched to its limit as something hot and unpleasant curled low in his stomach.

Steve definitely saw it.

"And?" he pressed, because of course he did.

Sam lifted his hands. "I don’t know, man. I wasn’t exactly watching her all night. At some point, I noticed her friends were still there, but she wasn’t."

Bucky bent the metal clip on his wrist wrap. Didn’t even realize he did it.

From a few feet away, Clint -who had been silently lifting weights until now-chuckled, dropping his dumbbells with a clank. “Oh. Naughty nanny.” He grinned.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, muscles ticking beneath his stubble as he exhaled slowly through his nose. His grip on the wrist wrap tightened further, the already-strained fabric pulling taut around his poor fingers.

Steve, who had been enjoying poking the bear just moments ago, suddenly didn’t feel so amused anymore. He saw it then, the shift in Bucky’s expression. It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t even anger.

It was something heavier.

Possessiveness? No. That wasn’t fair. But something bordering close to it.

Steve cleared his throat, giving Clint a quick, subtle glance to shut him up before casually steering the conversation back. "Well, wherever she went, I’m sure she was just having a good time," he said carefully like he wanted to smooth over whatever storm was brewing in Bucky’s head.

----

Monday came, and she picked up Thomas from kindergarten like usual. The walk home was filled with his excited chatter, small hands swinging in hers as he told her about his day. When they arrived at the apartment, Bucky was already there, waiting.

He greeted Thomas as warmly as ever, ruffling his hair and kissing the kid’s temple. But something was off, she felt it immediately.

Short answers. Little eye contact. Still, she tried to keep things normal, moving around the kitchen, and talking to Thomas about what they needed to pick up at the store. It had become their thing, a routine that had started naturally. But today, when she asked if they should go before the hot discount items run out, he shook his head.

“I’ll go alone,” he muttered, already grabbing his keys.

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard, but she nodded, pretending not to notice the way her chest suddenly felt too tight.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was quiet. She played with Thomas, helped him with the items he needed to bring the next day, and folded some laundry.

Bucky never came out of his room. He wasn’t asleep, she could hear the occasional creak of the old bed frame when he moved. But he stayed away. It was like he was hiding.

Eventually, she knocked on his door, pressing a hand against the frame. “Dinner’s ready,” she called gently. “And I’ll be heading out soon.”

Silence.

Then, after a beat, his voice came through, low and hollow. “Alright. Thanks.”

She lingered for half a second longer than necessary before pulling away. No see you tomorrow. No safe trip home. No let me walk you down.

----

He knew she had noticed something, how could she not, if he was acting like a boy? Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face.

This had to stop.

He wasn’t sixteen. He wasn’t some kid sulking because a girl he liked went out and had a good time. He didn’t have any claim on her.

She was just the damn nanny, for fuck’s sake. Someone who kept his home in order, who made sure that Thomas was cared for when he couldn’t. So what if she had a life outside of these walls? So what if she went out, laughed with people, danced with some guy, or even fuck-

No.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away before it could turn into something ugly, something he wasn’t ready to face. He had no right to feel this way and no right to let it fester.

Because this worked. The dynamic they had, the structure, the balance, it worked. And he wasn’t going to fuck it all up just because his dumb, touch-starved brain had decided to fixate on something it could never have.

So he’d suck it up. Just like he always did.

Tomorrow, he’d get his shit together. He’d act like a normal person. He’d even -fuck- ask her about her weekend like any regular, functioning adult would.

And he’d pretend.

Pretend it didn’t matter.

----

Tuesday afternoon, after she brought Thomas from the kindergarten, Bucky tried. Really tried. He put on that practiced smile -the one Sam always told him didn’t fool anyone but was the best he got- and forced himself to act normal. Like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t spent the last two days trying not to picture her dancing with some faceless stranger, disappearing into the night with him. So, when Thomas ran off to the bathroom at some point while she was making a snack, he casually made his way to the fridge for a glass of cold water, buying himself a few seconds.

He shouldn’t ask. But before he could stop himself, the words were already out. “I forgot to ask, how was your girl’s night?” His voice was so detached, so casual. Like he wasn’t already bracing for impact.

She stopped mid-motion, hovering the butter knife over the slice of bread, and looked at him as if deciding what to say. Then- “Not so great.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed before he could stop them. If dancing with some guy and leaving early wasn’t so great, well… “Oh?” He set the glass down on the counter, watching her carefully. “Why’s that?”

She pressed her lips in a thin line, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I-” She hesitated, then forced it out. “Someone put something in my drink.”

The world stilled. Bucky’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The fridge door clicked shut as he took a step forward, and his body moved before his mind could even catch up. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breath came out slow and measured like he was trying to keep something dangerous contained. “What?”

She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the counter for a second before she continued. “A guy invited me to dance. He seemed nice, you know? Attentive. At some point, he bought me a drink, and I accepted. After a while, I started to feel… weird. And he started to-” She waved her hand vaguely, like she couldn’t -or didn’t want to- say it out loud.

Bucky saw red.

His jaw locked so tight it ached, and something dark curled in his chest, coiling tighter and tighter with every beat of silence that passed. He wanted to ask questions, to demand names, and answers. But he restrained himself and let her talk.

“I don’t remember much,” she admitted, quietly. “But someone noticed something was off. The bartender, I think. He called someone from the staff, and they got me a secure cab. I managed to tell them my address.” She took a breath, “I sent a voice message to my friends while I was in the car. I couldn’t think straight, so the woman driving the car had to help me inside. I… was fine after a couple of hours. Just dizzy. Nauseous.”

Bucky was not fine. His fingers curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked, and his vision tunneled as he fought the instinct to destroy someone.

She must have noticed the shift in his behavior because her hand suddenly did touch his, just barely, the lightest press of her fingers against his wrist. "I'm okay, Bucky," she said softly. "It didn’t go further than that."

Didn’t go further than that.

That shouldn’t be comforting. His chest ached with the effort of holding it all back, of swallowing the rage and forcing himself to breathe. “Who was he?” The words came out quieter than expected. Deadly.

She hesitated again before shaking her head. “I don’t remember his name but either way, it could have been a lie.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose. You should've told me. Called me. Instead, what came out was, “You should’ve taken yesterday off. You needed time to recover.”

Then he realized. He had ignored her all of Monday while she’d been dealing with this. While she’d been sitting with the weight of what happened alone. He felt like a fucking dick. “Do you wanna go home?” he asked softly.

“No. I- I don't want to be alone right now, if that makes sense. I prefer to distract myself.”

Of course, it made sense. She just escaped a fucking rapist by a hair. Bucky’s fingers flexed at his sides, and his protectiveness twisted tighter and tighter inside him. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

Fuck it.

“Can I… I'll understand if you say no, but- just need a hug.” The last words came out lower like she was embarrassed to ask. But before she finished saying them, her body was enveloped in his. Warm, big, protective. And she let herself dive into it.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest, and he let out a slow breath, resting his chin on the top of her head.

It felt… right.

For both of them.

She shouldn’t want to stay there. Shouldn’t want to let herself sink into his warmth, into the solid comfort he provided her. But she did. And when she felt his arm pressing just slightly around her back, when he lingered, she dared to think that maybe… he didn’t want this to end either.

But while she was thinking about holding on, Bucky’s mind was already elsewhere.

Already planning.

He wasn’t a killer anymore. He wasn’t the man who mindlessly hurt and destroyed on command without thought. But when he finds the bastard who did this… when Bucky finishes with him, he’ll wish he was dead.

----

That night, he didn’t hesitate.

He called Steve and asked him to take care of Thomas, kept it vague. Steve asked if everything was alright and Bucky just answered, “I need to handle something.”

His first stop was the pub. It took all of ten minutes to get the surveillance footage. No one argued when he asked. Whether it was the weight of his name or the look in his eyes, he didn’t care.

The next stop was the Tower.

"Friday, pull up the security feed from Saturday night. Find her." Seconds later, there she was, black dress and nice hairdo, the picture of someone out to have a good time. Completely unaware.

Bucky fast-forwarded until he spotted her on the dance floor, spinning in some asshole’s arms. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to keep watching.

Fast-forwarded again, there they were at the bar. “Friday, enhance the footage. Close-caption the movements."

And there it was.

The bastard dissolved something into her drink while her back was turned. Then he rejoined her near the dance floor, charming, smiling. They flirted -another painful churn in Bucky’s gut- and then, she took a sip.

It didn’t take long. A shift in her posture, a slight lag in her coordination, the way she started leaning more into him, like gravity had shifted.

Then the hands. On her thigh, on her hip. Bucky didn’t finish watching. He couldn’t. It felt wrong.

But he had seen enough.

"Friday, run a facial recognition scan. See if he has a record." It took less than ten seconds. Convicted of multiple sexual offenses. Vicious ones.

Bucky’s blood turned to ice. "Give me his last known address."

A pause.

Then, a map appeared on the screen. And Bucky was already grabbing his jacket.

----

The news broke early the next morning, spreading like wildfire across the city. A known sexual predator had been found unconscious at the doorstep of a police station, it seemed his battered body was dumped there in the dead of night. Law enforcement officials remained tight-lipped, refusing to release details, but unofficial sources painted a far more gruesome picture. Multiple broken fingers, a savage beating that left him barely recognizable, and the most horrifying detail of all: his own severed testicles shoved into his mouth. Whoever had done it had made sure he lived through it, going so far as to cauterize the wound with a knife, ensuring he wouldn’t bleed out before he was found.

Speculation ran wild. Some whispered about vigilante justice, others murmured that the man had it coming. The brutality of the act sent shockwaves through the media, but behind closed doors, some simply nodded in grim understanding. No suspects had been named, no witnesses had come forward, and no security cameras had caught a thing. It was as if the man had been plucked off the streets, punished, and discarded without a trace.

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, sipping his morning coffee as the radio droned on in the background. He didn’t react to the report, nor did he stop munching his toast when the anchor speculated about the motives behind the attack. He simply stirred a little sugar into his cup, took another slow sip, and went about his morning routine as if it were any other day.

----

In the afternoon, Thomas asked to watch a movie, so she picked Toy Story. The kid was thrilled by the idea that his toys might secretly move and talk when he wasn’t looking. Every now and then, she caught him sneaking glances at them, with his eyes full of wonder, as if he could catch them in the act.

At some point, he begged for popcorn, and she laughed, ruffling his hair before heading to the kitchen to make some.

She was rummaging through the cabinets, searching for the right pot, when Bucky emerged from his bedroom. His hair was a mess, sleep-tousled and falling loosely over his shoulders. He moved on autopilot, going straight for a couple of plums. His heavy steps and sluggish posture told her he hadn’t been awake long from his nap.

She turned on the burner, setting the pot down, and spoke as casually as she could. “Saw the news today.”

He didn’t answer. Just let the water run as he rinsed the fruit, lowering his head slightly, his strands of dark hair covering his face like a curtain.

She gripped the pot handle a little tighter. No point in dancing around it. “The man at the police station,” she continued, voice even. “It was him.”

He stilled. Just for a second. A fraction of hesitation before he reached for a bowl, placing the plums inside with slow, deliberate movements.

"Figures," he muttered, shutting off the tap, and reaching for a towel. But before he could step away, she moved without thinking, brushing her fingers over his bicep, rubbing slow, careful circles with her thumb against the fabric of his shirt.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

He still didn’t look at her.

“I would do it again,” he murmured.

There it was. The cat was out of the bag.

Now she knew -or was reminded- exactly what he was capable of. What kind of man stood before her.

Would she flinch away, look at him differently? He wasn’t sorry for what he did, wouldn’t regret it for a second, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that actions didn’t have consequences. And maybe this -whatever this was- was something he was about to lose.

But then, instead of pulling away, she did the last thing he expected.

She pressed her forehead gently against his arm. “Want to watch what’s left of the movie with us?” she said softly, as if nothing had changed. “Thomas is loving it.”

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

He nodded, still without looking at her. "Then go sit with Thomas and I'll bring the popcorn when it's ready." She instructed, taking a step back and turning around.

----

She wasn’t stupid.

When she saw the news the next morning -just the night after she told Bucky what had happened- it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.

He could have just reported the guy, turned him over to the authorities, and let the system deal with him. Instead, he had gone out, hunted him down, and made sure he’d never hurt anyone again.

This wasn’t about justice. It wasn’t even about punishment.

It was personal.

Why? Because she was Thomas’ nanny? Because, somewhere along the way, she had become part of something he wasn’t willing to risk losing?

She thought about that night, when he had offered her his bed, and told her outright that he didn’t mind her there, that she was part of his household. Maybe that was why he felt compelled to do this. Maybe, to him, this was just… protecting his own.

----

Bucky was done pretending.

Done pretending this was just a comfortable, familiar routine. Done acting like this was enough when it had long since stopped being so.

And after what happened, after hearing what almost happened to her, the dam was close to breaking.

He was on edge.

Because if she had been with them that Saturday, she wouldn’t have been in danger. She wouldn’t have had to look for a good time with strangers and wouldn’t have been put in that position. And maybe that was the worst part. Not that she had gone out. Not that she had almost gotten hurt. But she had to go somewhere else to look for what she wanted.

What she needed.

Because he was a coward.

Trailing after her like a touch-starved idiot for months, basking in the warmth of the status quo. Letting himself be pampered, doted on, and wanted, but never taking it. It was time to admit, to face it head-on, that under all his layers of self-deprecation and doubt, part of him had noticed the signs. The ones Steve had subtly and not so subtly tried to make him see.

It used to be easy for him. To read those signs. To know when someone wanted him. And if they didn’t, well, he had once been the kind of man to make it happen.

But that man had died the moment he fell from that train.

Now, he was this. A fractured thing. A man with too much past and too many scars, with a kid who deserved a better role model than someone who spent his nights fucking his own hand inhaling a damn scarf because it smelled like her.

Yeah.

She hadn’t lost it, as she thought.

He had found it in the laundry pile weeks ago and, instead of leaving it out like a normal person, had tucked it away like some depraved, desperate little secret.

Like a fucking creep.

And now, after what happened, he didn’t just want to protect her. He wanted to keep her. Not just so she wouldn’t have to expose herself to the dangers of the world, but because-

He was a selfish bastard.

And he’d had enough.

----

Bucky was sprawled across the couch when she returned, popcorn in hand. He shifted slightly, making room for her, but hesitated -just for a second- before not removing his arm from the couch’s backrest.

Oh.

Subtle. But not that subtle.

She sat down, careful and deliberate, placing the bowl within reach. At first, she kept her posture straight, too aware of the space -or lack of it- between them.

Minutes passed. The movie played on. Eventually, her back started to ache, as a dull protest against how stiffly she was holding herself. She needed to lean back. And still, he didn’t move his arm.

There was no way he hadn’t noticed, no way this was anything but intentional. A week ago, he would have given her space, even would have put Thomas between them. But now…

She let out a slow breath and took the offer. Slowly, carefully, she eased back, resting her head against his shoulder.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, his arm shifted, pressing her closer, barely brushing the edge of her sleeve with his fingers.

Okay, she wasn’t imagining this.

She was cuddling with her boss.

Her boss, who had just tacitly admitted that he was the one who hunted down and beat the life out of the man who had almost hurt her.

The realization should have made her tense, should have made her overthink every second leading up to this moment, but instead, her body acted on instinct. She shifted -just a little- closing more of the space between them, pressing herself against the warmth of his body. She felt it. The way he caught his breath, the way his muscles went tight for a brief second, before exhaling and resting his cheek against the top of her head.

----

As the movie went on, Thomas remained fully engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. But the same couldn’t be said for the two adults on the couch. Neither of them was really watching.

At some point, she shifted again, adjusting herself against his body, and Bucky felt it, all of it. The warmth of her body against his side, the subtle weight of her head resting just right on his shoulder. She smelled like something soft, and warm, like lavender and the faintest hint of chamomile, and he knew if he moved even an inch closer, he’d drown in her scent.

She wasn’t faring much better. Every slow rise and fall of his chest made her hyper-aware of just how solid he was. How warm. How big. His arm, resting along the back of the couch, wasn’t quite touching her, but she could feel its weight hovering there like it wanted to.

Her fingers, resting idly beside her, shifted just slightly, brushing against his thigh. A featherlight touch. Accidental. But the way Bucky tensed made her stomach flip.

Neither of them moved away.

Another slow inhale. Another shift.

Bucky turned his head slightly, just enough that his nose brushed against the top of her hair. He breathed her in, slow and quiet, and let it out on a slow, controlled exhale. And then, in the quietest, rawest voice she had ever heard from him-

“Fuck.”

It was whispered, barely audible, slipping past his lips before he could bite it back. She felt it more than heard it, the vibration of his voice against her temple.

He went still after that, like he’d just let something slip.

And she couldn’t help it. Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head up to look at him, brushing her nose along the rough stubble of his jaw.

He inhaled sharply, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Then, almost hesitantly, he moved, shifting ever so slightly, just enough to press his forehead against hers.

A slow, shared breath.

The space between them was nonexistent.

It would be so easy to close the distance. To press her lips to the corner of his mouth, to finally give in to whatever had been simmering between them for months.

And judging by the way his fingers pressed ever so slightly on her arm, he was thinking the exact same thing.

But.

As much as she wanted it, as much as he seemed to want it, Thomas was sitting mere inches away.

It was wrong.

All it would take was a second -a moment of distraction from the boy, a glance in their direction- and he would see everything transpiring between them.

A sudden laugh from the kid at just the right moment brought reality crashing back down. So, she swallowed, ignoring the heat curling in her body, and lowered her face slowly, resting her head on his shoulder again.

And that was when Bucky moved.

His arm, which had been resting on the back of the couch, scooped her closer, dragging her fully against him. Her cheek was pressed into his chest, and her hand landed against his ribcage, feeling his strong heartbeats beneath her palm.

She let herself sink into his body, into the way he held her there, firm and certain, like he needed it just as much as she did.

----

The movie ended, and with it, the fragile atmosphere built between them.

Thomas was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing in his seat as he fired off questions, questions that Bucky could only half-assedly answer because, truthfully, he had barely processed a single second of the film.

How could he?

Not when he’d spent the last hour fighting the urge to shift, to press closer, to let his hands wander where they shouldn’t.

Not when the scent of her arousal had curled into his senses, sweet and warm and impossible to ignore while she let him hold her, and press her against his chest.

Not when the dull ache between his legs had made every passing second feel like torture.

Fuck, he was wrecked.

She got up, answering Thomas’s rapid-fire questions easily -she’d seen the movie countless times- while making her way to the kitchen, and Bucky forced himself to move, standing up with a quiet grunt as he rolled his shoulders, discreetly tugging at his pants to adjust himself, willing his body to calm the fuck down.

A cold shower. He needed a cold fucking shower.

Throwing a glance toward the kitchen, he watched her move, hawking at the sway of her hips as she reached for a cutting board, the way she bent to reach a pot. Jesus. He clenched his jaw and forced his feet to move, heading straight for the bathroom.

----

She heard the shower start, and that was when she remembered. The towels.

Her fingers stilled on the knife for a beat before she turned to Thomas, mustering the most casual voice she could. “Sweetheart, can you take a clean towel to your dad? I forgot to put them back after laundry.”

The boy nodded happily, grabbing one from the pile and running down the hall.

And just like that, she was alone.

Alone with the feeling of his body pressing against hers. His smell. The weight of his arm. The slow, almost reverent way his fingers had traced just under her breast.

The way her body had reacted to his, aching, wanting-

Eventually, the sound of the bathroom door opening snapped her out of it.

And when she turned-

Oh.

Bucky stood there, fresh from the shower, water still clinging to his collarbone, shoulders, and forearm where he had missed a few drops before putting on a tank top that left almost none to the imagination. His beard was neatly trimmed, his jawline sharper, cleaner. And fuck, that damn ponytail again, like he knew exactly what it did to her.

She swallowed, forcing her gaze lower, only to regret it instantly.

The grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and her stomach flipped violently, while heat crawled up her neck.

And God, then he looked at her.

Like he was devouring her with his eyes while he reached for a piece of bread from the table, biting into it with slow, deliberate movements,

She swallowed, gripping the wooden spoon tighter, forcing herself to focus on the food in front of her. Stirring. Stirring. Not thinking.

She gave the sauce one last absentminded stir, then shut off the burner.

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she exhaled slowly before turning back to the table. "Alright, I should get going."

----

Thomas frowned from his seat, already settling in for dinner. "Already?"

She ruffled his hair with a small smile. "Yeah, kiddo. Gotta catch the bus before it gets too late."

Bucky, who had been watching in silence, shifted in his seat. Then, without a word, he stood, tugging his phone from his pocket and typing something before shoving it back in.

“I’ll walk you down.”

It wasn’t a surprise. It had become routine at this point, the act of accompanying her to the door, sometimes even down the street if it was late. If she ever protested, he’d just look at her. That flat, unimpressed stare that made it very clear she wasn’t going to win that argument.

So she just nodded, grabbing her jacket before saying goodbye to Thomas, who, as always, made her promise she’d be back tomorrow.

With that, she followed Bucky out of the apartment.

The hallway was quiet, save for the buzz of the overhead lights and the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked at each other. Even as they stepped into the elevator.

She risked a glance at him, catching the way his fingers picked absently at a cuticle, and his jaw worked like he was thinking too much.

The elevator descended, floor numbers ticking down in a slow rhythm.

Her stomach flipped for no reason at all.

Bucky moved.

His arm slowly reached out, and before she could process it, his palm pressed the stop button.

The elevator shuddered to a halt.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned her head, looking at him.

And, oh.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… dark, intense, burning.

Her lips parted, and then-

His hand shot out.

Not to touch her. Not quite.

But close enough.

His fingers braced against the wall beside her head, caging her in, while his body got mere inches from hers, radiating heat. He leaned in, just enough for his breath to ghost across her cheek.

His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver down straight to her pussy.

“Tell me what you want, doll.”

Her stomach clenched, and her pulse hammered against her chest.

Oh, fuck.

There was no point in pretending anymore.

She shifted her face to the side, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

He tensed beneath her lips. But she didn’t stop.

Slowly, she traced a path along his jaw, breathing warmly against his skin, teasing, waiting, until she reached the corner of his mouth.

And then he just took what she offered.

A low sound rumbled in his chest as his vibranium hand came up, cradling her face with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger of his kiss. His other hand remained firmly pressed against the elevator wall, keeping her caged between him and the cold metal.

He kissed her hard, like he had been holding himself back for too long, because he had.

And she melted.

A moan escaped her lips as she parted them for him, surrendering as his tongue swept inside, claiming, coaxing, demanding more.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, nails grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine. His body pressed into hers firmly, as if daring the space between them to disappear entirely.

The elevator walls blurred away, and the world narrowed down to nothing but heat and mingling breaths.

He growled against her mouth, raw, almost desperate. His hands found the bare skin of her thighs beneath her jumper, digging his fingers into her soft flesh as he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the elevator wall.

A gasp tore from her lips as her instincts took over, wrapping her legs around his waist, and locking him in. And then, he ground against her. A slow, deliberate roll of his hips, pressing the hard, aching length of his cock against the heat between her legs.

His eyes rolled back, as the pleasure ripped through his body like a live wire.

Fuck.

The thin fabric of his sweatpants did nothing to dull the friction, to stop the rush of sensations shooting straight up his spine. He barely had a second to gather himself, to hold on to what little control he had left, because if he didn’t, if he kept moving just like that-

He was going to fucking come in his pants like a damn teenager.

She took advantage of his momentary stillness, curling her fingers into his hair, and giving a soft, teasing tug at his ponytail. His breath stuttered, and his grip on her thighs tightened just before she latched onto the exposed skin of his neck.

Her mouth was warm, and her lips soft as she nipped and suckled at his skin, careful -too careful- not to leave a mark. Not that she could, really. She’d have to work damn hard to bruise him, to claim him in any visible way.

And still, he let her.

He thought he was going to die right there.

His neglected, touch-starved body struggled to process all the stimulus, the heat of her body pressed against him, the teasing scrape of her teeth, the friction, the fucking wetness soaking into the fabric of his sweatpants. He didn’t even know if it was his or hers or both, but he needed-

His hand moved on its own, slipping beneath her jumper, sliding up and brushing the rim of her panties, guided by pure desperation-

And then his phone blared between them.

The sharp sound sliced through the haze, snapping them back to reality for a fraction of a second.

He tensed. She gasped.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His past self had set that damn alarm. A fail-safe, a reminder, because he knew something could happen. Not this, definitely not this far, but something. He didn’t want to leave Thomas alone in the apartment for too long. Panting, he pressed his forehead against hers, squeezed his eyes shut, and muttered a curse under his breath.

She couldn’t stop herself, just one last time, and she rolled her hips against his, biting her lip when she felt just how hard he was.

His sharp gasp sent a thrill down her spine.

“Sorry,” she blurted, breathless.

His eyes snapped open, dark and hazy, his pupils blown wide. His chest heaved against hers, their warm breath mingling in the charged space between them.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid her down, letting her body drag against his, while his hands glided up the backs of her thighs, fingers splayed. She barely had time to catch her breath before he squeezed both hands on her ass, hard enough to make her gasp.

But before she could say anything, he exhaled sharply and fished out his damn phone, silencing the alarm. His fingers curled around the device as if fighting the urge to crush it in his palm.

“Sorry,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Thomas…”

“Of course,” she managed to say, forcing herself to focus. “He’ll wonder why you’re not back.”

She ran her hands over her clothes, smoothing fabric that had been wrinkled in his grip, and fixing her hair in a vain attempt to make herself look less like she had just been thoroughly manhandled.

Bucky wasn’t fairing much better.

She caught the way he stiffened and looked down, muttering a curse under his breath.

She followed his gaze-

A wet patch stained the front of his sweatpants, where the fabric struggled to contain his very prominent erection.

She swallowed, and heat sparked again deep in her belly.

Bucky scowled, tugging his tank top down in a pitiful attempt to cover himself. It didn’t help. At all.

With his jaw tight, he reached for the elevator panel and pressed the button, setting it back into motion. The sound of the machinery filled the small space, but neither of them spoke.

He barely even looked at her.

Couldn’t.

Not when he still felt her warmth against his skin, still tasted her on his lips, still throbbed painfully inside his damn stained sweatpants.

When the doors slid open, she stepped out first, and he followed instinctively, keeping close behind, using her frame to shield the evidence on his pants from anyone lingering in the hallway.

They walked in silence. When they reached the doorway of the building, she finally turned, meeting his gaze, with a small, timid smile playing at her lips.

Something in his chest pulled.

Without thinking, he lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently along her cheek, tracing the warmth of her skin. And, instead of doing what he wanted -instead of kissing her the way he needed- he dipped his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her hair.

Soft. Safe.

All he could trust himself with right now.

“See you tomorrow, doll,” he murmured.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she murmured, almost hesitant. Before he could pull away, she lifted her hand, cradling his where it still rested against her cheek.

Bucky swallowed hard as she brushed her thumb over his knuckles, slow, absentminded. Like she didn’t want to let go. But then she pulled back, releasing him and letting the air settle cool where her warmth had been.

She turned, walking toward the bus stop without another word. Will have the whole way home to think about what happened.

And him?

He had all night to regret letting her walk away.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira @technicallytinyheart @put-trash-here @chinggay85-blog @tulippix @dumblani @chuiisi @calwitch @civilbucky @neyr100 @tanyaherondale @theflowerswillbloom @stars4birdie @soberbabes @greatmistakes @littlesuniee @casey1-2007 @escapefromrealitylol @thriving-n-jiving @vxllys @hi172826

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader

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ashychangeling · 15 days ago

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stucky-coded audio wip

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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ashychangeling · 15 days ago

Photo

“You’re m-m-my mission!”

“Owie, Bucky! Stahp!”

Does the fact that they’re tiny make it better?

Patreon ǀ Kofi ǀ Commissions

#captain america #bucky barnes #winter soldier #stucky

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ashychangeling · 22 days ago

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ashychangeling · 25 days ago

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When you're reading an x reader fanfic but suddenly your name is Rachel

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ashychangeling · 28 days ago

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baby i can avoid eye contact in ways you’d never fuckin believe

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ashychangeling · 28 days ago

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ashychangeling · 1 month ago

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omg I love this. I love how they already are an established relationship now. I hate slow burn lol. I'm still partial to "hold you tight" bucky but I like this one too. Very well written. Looking forward to this series.

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#bucky barnes x reader #alpha!bucky

2K notes · View notes

ashychangeling · 1 month ago

Text

omg they kissed! Now we're getting started. Very well written. Excited to see where this goes.

Deep in the Woods: Part 3

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: Tension is thick with you and Bucky as you two have lunch together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, sexual tension, kissing, reader ignores red flags like she's colorblind, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Since Bucky already unpacked the food, you helped set everything on a couple of plates. He said he was starving, and you didn't want to keep him waiting. You also didn’t know what kind of plans he had for the rest of the day. He could eat what you brought and send you on your way if he wished.

“This really does look delicious,” he commented, helping you carry everything to the dining room. “Especially the cookies.”

“I hope you like them,” you smiled, setting your plate on one end of the table. “Oh, thanks,” you added when he pulled the chair out for you.

“Did your ex not pull your chair out for you?” he asked, a hint of bitterness coming out when he said “ex”, but you may have been projecting.

You also swore you felt his fingers brush your shoulders when you sat down, but the touch faded immediately. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seem surprised that I did that,” he replied, taking his own seat across the table.

“Oh. Well. He did it from time to time,” you said. Some considered it to be an outdated gesture, but you always thought it was sweet. Your ex did it at the beginning of the relationship, but that quickly faded. That should’ve been a sign that it wasn’t meant to last. No one should ever stop trying or caring in a relationship. “It’s nice that you do that.”

“Time to time. What kind of boyfriend is that?” he muttered like he hadn't heard the last thing you said, taking a large bite of his food. “A lot of men today don’t know how to treat a woman. Bet he never took you dancing or dressed up for you either.”

Your eyebrows shot up. The bitterness surprised you, but it didn’t upset you. There was no reason to defend your ex, and Bucky came from a different time. You were sure he treated women well and they likely felt lucky to date him.

“No, he didn’t really dress up for me or take me out dancing,” you confirmed. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered why you settled. Was it what you thought you deserved? “Which is fine since he wasn't really a good dancer.”

“I'm a good dancer,” he blurted out before he cleared his throat. “At least, I used to be.”

“I’ll bet you still are,” you smiled softly. He didn't quite smile back, but there was a tug in the corner of his mouth. It did break your heart a little to wonder when he last danced with someone he cared about. To be fair, you knew nothing about his dating history. It could’ve been years ago or recent. “Though most dancing today is just…”

“Grinding,” he finished for you, licking a bit of the food from his lips.

You swallowed your bite hard, proud of yourself for not choking. Picturing Bucky grinding wasn’t the best thing to do while eating. “Wow, did you make this table?” you asked. A change of topic was good, and if he caught on he didn’t call you out on it. Plus he mentioned that he made some of his own furniture. That was a safe and natural topic to discuss.

“I did,” he answered, running a hand along the table top. “One of the first things I made.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. He really had a talent, and he could probably sell furniture if he really wanted to.

“Thanks,” he smiled gently. “Not just for the compliment, but coming over. It's…” He tapped a finger on the table. “It’s really nice having company.”

You glanced around. There was a bench on both sides of the table instead of chairs, and it was easy for you to imagine his friends and members of the Avengers gathered around for a nice meal. But how often did that happen?

“I’m not much company,” you said before remembering he didn’t like you self-depracting. “But thanks for inviting me over. That was nice of you to do that.”

He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes locked deeply with yours. What was it about his stare that made you want to duck your head? Was it because he seemed to look right through you? “I think you’re great company,” he said, bringing a small smile to your face. “In fact, I think you should stay here with me.”

You blinked a few times. “I should… stay? You want me to stay here?” you asked. Exactly how long did he want you to stay?

“Yeah, after lunch. We can hang out for a bit longer and talk. Maybe play a game,” he suggested, finishing the food on his plate before he grabbed a cookie. “Unless you have somewhere else to be or have other plans?”

“I don’t really have anywhere to be,” you said. It wasn't like you had any plans either. Any excuse you came up with would've sounded lame if you tried. Spending more time there before you went back to your cabin wouldn't be so bad. “What games do you have?”

Bucky didn't answer since he bit into the cookie. With a groan he watched you watching him as he devoured the treat, making sure to eat up every single morsel. He licked his fingers and lips clean once he finished and you had to press your legs together, which did nothing to relieve the sudden heat there.

If that was how he ate a cookie, how did he eat… No, it wasn't good to let your mind wander.

“Y-You like them?” you asked, your voice breathier than normal.

“Like them? Do you have any idea how delicious your cookies are?” he rasped, the muscles rippling in his right arm as he helped himself to another. “So fucking sweet. Could just eat you up.”

The wave of heat flowed up to your neck. “I’m sorry?” you asked.

“Could just eat them up,” he replied.

“Oh, right.” Of course, he was talking about the cookies, and you hadn't heard him correctly.

“I went years without dessert,” he said almost more to himself than you, but he continued to stare when he finished his second. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it until I didn’t have it.”

Your heart went out to him. If you ever wanted a treat, you had the privilege to buy one or get the ingredients to make them yourself. He didn’t have either option and that wasn’t by choice. What he had to endure, at least the information you were privy to, you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

“You’re more than welcome to eat the entire plate if you’d like,” you offered, chewing your lip as you thought more about it. “And, you know, if there’s something you’d really like or if you have a favorite treat or dessert, maybe I can bake it for you?”

“You’d do that?” He looked touched before his cheek twitched. “Even after I was an ass to you and you already made lunch for me once?”

“Well, you weren’t a complete ass to me and this lunch was for both of us,” you teased a little. “And I really don’t mind. I like to cook and bake.”

“Yet you do data entry,” he deadpanned.

You shrugged. “Data entry is a job that helps me pay my bills, and that’s why I do it. Nothing more.”

“So, you wouldn’t miss it if you ever had the chance to quit?” he asked curiously.

“I mean, I might miss it if I don’t have something else lined up, but it isn’t exactly a dream job. I don’t know if I actually have a dream job, but I could never be a professional baker or cook because those are things I love to do, and I want to keep enjoying them without pressure added to them,” you said. You respected people who went for their dreams, but you felt like doing those hobbies as a job would somehow taint them for yourself. Doing them for fun and spoiling those close to you made you happier.

“That makes sense. You want to keep the purity of it,” he said. You had to agree with that. “You know, I did offer to let you use my kitchen while you’re in the area. Maybe you can bake for me here or we can bake something together.”

Lunch and meeting his cat. Playing games. Baking together. Bucky must’ve been desperate for the company if he wanted you to hang out with him. What other explanation was there? “That would be nice,” you smiled. Using his kitchen would be amazing.

“But we can figure out what to make together later. You asked about games.” He licked his fingers again with a hum and you almost looked away. “I have a deck of cards, or I have stuff like checkers, chess, or Scrabble.”

Plenty of games for two. “I’m fine with…” you stopped talking when fur brushed against your leg, making you giggle. “Hey, Alpine.”

Bucky smiled softly. “Al, let her be.”

“Oh, she’s fine,” you smiled, reaching down to pet her. She was a sweet cat. “Is she strictly an indoor cat or does she ever go on walks or anything with you?”

“I carry her or put her in my coat if we venture away from the house. Not because I think she’ll run off, but because of some of the other animals in the woods. I don't want her to get hurt or worse.”

“That makes sense.” Your heart ached at the thought of something taking Alpine away, but it warmed at the image of the burly man carrying her around in his coat. “You said you came out to the woods with her. Did it take her a bit to get used to the place?”

He nodded. “It was a little bit of an adjustment, but she loved it once she got used to it,” he said, resting back in his chair and observing you as you ate. “I don't think she’d ever want to go back to the city since she loves this place so much. She has everything she needs here.”

Something flickered in his eyes and you weren't sure why his tone sounded strange. It was almost as if he was trying to convince you and himself that she loved it there. “Well, as long as she’s happy and you're happy and the place feels like home, that’s what matters, right?”

“Right,” he whispered.

“Though I imagine it must get a little lonely since you're so far from the city,” you commented, wishing you hadn't said so. He wanted to get away after the rough mission he experienced and didn’t need you commenting on his possible loneliness.

“It can be,” he said, leaning his arms on the table and gazing at you. “But it isn’t so lonely right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said, the conversation you had with Kenna popping up in your mind. Maybe he was lonely and you were, too, and he was still shirtless and he could make you forget that loneliness for a short while and help with your sexual frustration and… something was stopping you from going there. “I guess it's too bad I won't be around after a couple of weeks,” you smiled sadly.

Bucky frowned and abruptly stood up from his chair. “I’m getting another drink,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “You want one?”

You frowned a little, too, when you saw his eye twitch. Did your comment somehow upset him? “Sure, thanks,” you replied, watching him grab both glasses and walk out with heavy steps.

You sighed once he was out of sight. For a second you wanted to believe that Bucky was giving you an opening, but you didn’t take it. But what if you hit on him in return and flirting with you wasn’t his intention at all? How awkward would that be if he turned you down or told you to leave? You’d have to hide out in your cabin for the rest of your trip.

If Kenna were there she’d tell you to get out of your head.

Alpine brought your attention to her with a small purr, brushing against your leg again. “You really like it out here, huh?” you asked, giving her another pet. “I can see why. It’s beautiful, peaceful. Don't have to worry about noisy neighbors and traffic and crowds.” You paused and giggled. “But I guess you never had to worry about traffic and crowds. Only Bucky did.”

“Not anymore.”

You jolted when Bucky set your drink down. You hadn’t heard him come back in. At least he wasn't frowning anymore. “Sorry. I was just-”

“It’s fine. I talk to her, too,” he said, nodding to your plate. “You haven't finished your food.”

“Oh, I think I was just caught up in our conversation,” you said, going back to eating.

Instead of taking his seat at the head of the table he took a seat on the bench to your left. Alpine hopped in his lap and he rubbed her head, but he kept his eyes on you. “The bowl of stew you had yesterday was a small helping, too. Do you not eat enough?”

You coughed when you took your next bite and his hand went to your back since he was close enough. His hand was huge. Warm. Why were you thinking about that? “I eat plenty,” you defended yourself after you took a drink. He didn't remove his hand. “Three meals a day and snacks in between.”

“Sorry. That was rude of me to ask that way,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away. “Just making sure you're taken care of since you’re out here all by yourself.”

“It's okay.” The question surprised you, but you weren't at all angry or put off. It was actually kind of sweet that your well-being mattered. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Unless it involves chopping firewood, I can take care of myself.”

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe you. “I know all about taking care of myself, but it’s tough some days having to go it alone,” he said, watching meticulously as you worked on finishing up your plate. “You shouldn't have to.”

Your well-being wasn't Bucky’s responsibility as flattering as it was that he cared. But the fact that a virtual stranger cared more about your safety or if you ate enough more than some who knew you for ages hurt. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. And once your getaway was over, you’d be back in the city and back to your routine and Bucky would be back to his routine, too.

“It is tough some days,” you agreed. That was why you wanted to have a good and caring partner to lean on so you could ask for help if and when you needed it. What you got instead was a cheater, but you were better off. “You shouldn't have to go it alone either. No one should,” you said, deflecting a bit so you didn’t focus on your thoughts and feelings.

Bucky sitting so close and watching you made it hard to think properly. Taking your next breath didn't feel natural either. The short time you spent together hadn't accustomed you to his lingering stares or being the center of his attention. It was a lot. Not bad, just a lot.

He hummed once you ate your last bite and took your plate for you. “We can play in the den.”

“You have a den, too?”

“Yeah. I almost thought the place was too big for me, but I like the space. Also has perfect lighting when I read,” he said.

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. It was also the perfect amount since he eventually wanted to have a family. “My apartment has this little nook where I curl up with a pillow and blanket when I read.”

“A reading nook,” he said, glancing behind him. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Everyone should be comfortable while they’re reading,” you said, Alpine hot on your tail as Bucky led you to the den.

It wasn’t as large as the living room, but still spacious and it had the perfect small table for you two to sit and play a game. “How do you feel about Scrabble?” he asked.

“I’m semi-confident in my skills,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you when you sat down. “Do Sam and Steve like to play games?”

“They don’t mind them, but these games have been sitting here collecting dust,” he replied, bringing the game out. “Now I finally have a partner to play with.”

Your brows furrowed. You assumed one of his friends would play a game with him if they stopped by, but maybe they did other activities. “Well, I hope I’m a worthy opponent.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m pretty good myself,” he said without a hint of bragging. “Winner picks the next game,” he added, more like a statement than a suggestion.

“Oh,” you said. He assumed you were staying for more than one game. You couldn’t exactly blame him since you confirmed you had no plans. “Yeah, okay. Winner picks the next game.”

He smiled triumphantly. “You’re not a sore loser, are you?”

“No,” you giggled, helping him set up the board. His fingers brushed yours when he handed you the letter pieces, tingles shooting down your spine. It was sad how starved you felt for some affection, and it felt selfish to indulge. But was it selfish when he was single and so were you? “Are you?”

“I try not to be,” he said, taking a seat to your left again instead of across from you. “Either way it’s a win though.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Because even if I don’t win this game, we’re still going to play another and there’s a chance I’ll win that.”

You tried not to smile. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

“I imagine that’s how you look at things,” he said, tilting his head. “A little bit brighter than most.”

You froze. Kenna said something similar yesterday. “I’m sorry, what did you say you did after you left yesterday?” you asked curiously.

“Spent most of the day and evening inside. It was uneventful. Why?”

“No reason,” you smiled. There was no way he was by your cabin after he left yesterday. No possible way. It was silly to even think that for a moment.

“You asked for a reason,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, I was chatting with a friend just outside of the cabin yesterday and I thought-”

“You thought what? That I was hanging around and eavesdropping?” he asked, your eyes rounding at the bite in his tone. It was reminiscent of when he discovered you attempting to chop firewood.

“No!” Why had you opened your mouth? “I just heard a couple of noises like branches snapping, but it was probably an animal or something. I don’t really know the surroundings here.”

He nodded after a moment. “There are animals in the woods, so it’s good to be on guard if you’re sitting outside. One of the reasons I have a security system is so I can see all angles outside of the place,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “Sorry if I sounded upset. I just…” His jaw clenched. “I thought this was going well, but you’re scared of me just like everyone else.”

Your face fell and his apology didn’t make the guilt you felt go away. If anything, you felt worse. Things were going well, and you blew it. “No, I’m sorry, and I’m not scared of you, Bucky.”

“You’re not?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“I’m not,” you answered. You had no reason to be scared. If he wanted to hurt you or do anything else, he would’ve done so already. “But if you want me to go-”

He grabbed your wrist before you could move. “Stay,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to grip yours. It was a strong grip, but it didn’t hurt.

“You want me to stay?” you asked. A gorgeous hero wanted to spend time with you. He really was as desperate for your company as you were for his. But it had to be because you were the only person nearby, right?

“Yeah.” He nodded to the table. “I mean, we already went through the trouble of setting up the game,” he said, his voice lighter.

You smiled a little. It was a good sign that he wasn’t kicking you out. “You did,” you agreed, not pulling your hand away. It felt nice.

“And maybe the overall winner can pick dinner instead of another game. Could be something simple. I have plenty of stuff here to make.”

“Dinner? Wait, I’m staying for dinner?” you asked, confused. He hadn’t mentioned anything about dinner tonight. “I thought I was heading back to the cabin after a couple of games.”

“Why would you do that? I thought we were having fun,” he said, tilting his head. “What, you’d rather eat alone?”

“Oh, I am having fun, and I don’t want to eat alone.” It has been a fun afternoon so far. It continued to surprise you that he wanted you around. “You sure you don’t mind? It’ll be dark after dinner, and I wouldn’t want you-”

“I don’t mind walking you back if it’s dark. I’d prefer that, actually.”

“Okay,” you smiled. Dinner would be nice. “And I want you to remember what you said earlier because when I win so you can’t act grumpy.”

“You think I'm grumpy?” he teased, complete with a grumpy stare.

“From the short time I’ve known you, you do give off grumpy vibes,” you teased back, the tension fading away.

“I’m an old man. I think I’ve earned my right to be grumpy,” he said, carefully looking over his letters.

“Well, you don’t look like an old man,” you said. Not with the way he was built. “You look really good,” you added, feeling the need to do so.

His thumb moved along your hand and you weren’t sure if he was doing it intentionally or not. “Glad you like what you see,” he said in a low voice, his eyes flickering to yours.

Before you could concentrate on the heat spreading in your body, he went back to the letters and carefully placed his tiles on the board. The room remained silent when he set the last tile down and you tried not to react when you read the word. It was almost impossible not to, especially with how he kept rubbing his thumb along your hand.

QUIVER

“Quiver.” You swallowed a little. “So, that’s 18 points. I guess I have my work cut out for me, huh?”

Your eyes stayed on the board when he moved a little closer, feeling the warmth that rolled off his body. He wasn’t lying when he said he ran warm. “I guess so,” he murmured.

Clearing your throat, you tried to concentrate on choosing a decent word. You couldn’t think of anything spectacular, and you were blaming that on Bucky since he was so close. You felt his eyes on you, too, and you dared to sneak another glance at him. He looked like he was two seconds away from devouring you. And you wanted him to.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss or anything over the top. Just a soft, chaste kiss to test the waters, to break the tension that you were certain at this point both of you felt. He didn’t kiss you back since you pulled away before he could, but he leaned forward like he was chasing your lips. And he refused to let you look away when he opened his eyes, cupping your cheek and silently demanding that you stare back at him.

If he looked like he wanted to devour you before…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart racing when he brought his metal hand to your face, too.

“I’m not,” he whispered back, slowly leaning in.

A flash of lightning nearby illuminated the woods outside the window followed by a roll of thunder that made you jump back before he could kiss you, your heart racing again as the sudden sound of raindrops followed. “It’s raining?” you asked. You didn’t know it was going to storm today.

“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t seem to care at all since he was too busy staring at your mouth. “Supposed to rain through the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening, so it’s a good thing you’re here with me.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you said. There was no way you’d make it back to the cabin without getting caught in the storm, but that was the last thing on your mind when his thumb moved over your lips.

“What’s wrong? Were you scared I’d kick you out? Make you get all wet?” he rumbled, your breath hitching when he slid one hand to the back of your neck. “You don’t need to go outside to get wet for me.”

“Bucky,” you gasped.

His lips skimmed yours before he pulled away. “But why don’t we try to finish our game?” he suggested, your mouth falling open. “We’ll see who breaks first.”

Moving fast! Our poor girl. To be fair, this was meant to be a romantic vacation for her, and I'd ignore the red flags if a shirtless Bucky was paying attention to me. So, which one is going to break first? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#bucky barnes x reader

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ashychangeling · 1 month ago

Text

omg this is so hot I'm gonna die. I love chubby bucky fics. Very well written.

Plump & Ripe

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Some fluff. Slight Angst. A Pinch of Body Insecurity. Size kink. Use of pet names.

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Word Count: 7.4k.

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Plums". It was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic, but it turned into pure filth instead. I'm sorry -not-

She looked up from the counter, and a welcoming smile instantly spread across her lips when she saw who had made the doorbell chime.

“You’re late. You’re lucky I set this bag aside when the distributor came this morning because they’re all sold out now.” She lifted a small paper bag from the shelf behind her, placing it on the counter between them. The deep violet of the plums peeked through the crinkled opening, and their smooth skins caught the golden light that filtered through the shop’s front windows.

Bucky stood just inside the doorway, a little tense as his fingers fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “Sorry. Something came up and... couldn’t make it earlier.” He mumbled.

That ‘something’ had been him forcing himself out of bed after three days of avoiding the world. Everything felt heavier these days, his body, his thoughts, even some goddamn things that weren’t so before. But he was here now, and that was better than nothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter. “No worries. I know you’d never miss plum day on purpose.” She tried to tease warmly.

Right. One of the rare occasions he’d missed plum day was when he went on that stupid mission, the so-called ‘walk in the park’ that turned into a bloodbath of agents and ended with him being taken again by the same people who’d tormented him for nearly 80 years. Only this time, they didn’t just want their precious pet back, they wanted it better.

In five days of captivity, they not only just strapped him to a modernized version of that damned chair. Oh no, they’d injected him with a cocktail of drugs that messed up his body in ways he was still discovering, even a year later. Like his fucked-up metabolism.

His eyes flicked to the bag, and his mouth twitched just slightly. “You know me too well on that aspect,” he muttered, reaching out to grab the bag.

She watched him carefully. “Do you need anything else?”

He hesitated, shifting his gaze to the baskets of apples lined up near the wall. “Yeah… green apples.”

She nodded, moving around the counter to grab a paper bag. As she started picking the crisp, bright green apples, she spoke over her shoulder. “I got a new kind in this week. They’re a mix of green and red, still sour but with a sweet twist. Figured you might like them, so I’m throwing one in for you to try.” She dropped a smaller, two-toned apple into the bag, the colors blending in a swirl of muted red and pale green. “No charge.”

His lips quirked, just for a moment, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “Thanks.” He said gruffly.

She twisted the top of the bag, folding it neatly before placing it on the counter beside the plums. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers lingered on the edge as if debating something. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying the skin.

Always perceptive, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Her head jerked up, eyes widening. “Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to say something or not.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “Spit it out.”

She huffed a laugh, embarrassed. “It’s... not very appropriate.”

One eyebrow shot up. “I’ve heard worse.”

She bit her lip again before glancing toward the back room. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a couple of crates. The distributor was in a hurry, and he just tossed the merchandise back there. It’s kind of a mess... hard to move around.” She gave a half-shrug, sheepish. I’d do it myself, but they’re actually pretty heavy.”

He followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “That all?”

“Well... yeah,” she admitted, heat creeping up her neck. “You already helped with the shelves last week... and the cooler the week before. I just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or something.”

His face softened even more, as he huffed, twitching his lips in a half-smile. “I wouldn’t help if I didn’t want to. Show the way.”

She gestured to the door behind the counter -the only door, really- and he shot her a look. She shrugged, grinning. “I know, I know. Real hard to find.”

He followed her through the doorway, ducking his head slightly as they entered the cramped back room. His steps faltered as his eyes took in the scene. Stacks of boxes and wooden crates were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some leaning precariously against each other. It was like the distributor had been in a damn race to get out of there.

His mouth pulled into a deep scowl. How the hell did that asshole expect her to move this on her own? Where were the manners nowadays? He grumbled under his breath, weaving between the clutter as he started rearranging the crates into a more orderly stack. He made sure to place the heavier boxes at the bottom, the lighter ones on top, within easy reach for her.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the chaos turned into something more manageable. “God, I’ll kidnap you and put you on my bedside table.”

His head snapped up, brows drawing together. “Uh?”

She blinked, a faint heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, it’s just... a saying we have. You know, to cherish something.” She waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment. “Forget it. Thank you, really for always helping.”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure your poor bedside table can’t handle me anyway.” His tone was dry, self-deprecating, like he was almost daring her to argue.

But her brain had short-circuited somewhere around ‘bedside,’ and before she could think better of it, the words just tumbled out: “But my bed sure can.”

He froze, fingers clenching around the edge of a crate. For a second, he didn’t even breathe. “What?”

She cursed inwardly. Did she… did she actually say that aloud? Oh my god. She could feel her soul leaving her body, and her eyes darted down as her brain scrambled for something -anything- that could sound similar. She fumbled, words tripping over themselves. “I- I said... I wondered if... if you can open a can.”

Bucky blinked, his expression shifting from shock to confusion. “A can?”

She nodded furiously, feeling her face burn. “Yeah. A big one. I have... with peaches. And I don’t have an opener, so I thought maybe...” Her eyes flicked to his metal hand, then back to his face.

They stared at each other, the silence was thick and heavy. “You want me to open... a can of peaches.”

Her chin lifted defiantly, even as her face burned. “Yes. A big one.”

He looked at her, then tilted his head, and his lips twitched slightly. “That so?”

“Yup. I figured you’re more than capable and I... really wanted to try them.” Her voice was firmer now, though her face was still in flames.

Bucky watched her for another moment, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, he huffed, low and almost amused. “Alright then. Bring it over.”

She nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to turn away from his piercing gaze. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, and her hands trembled as she rummaged through a cluttered shelf. Eventually, she found the can half-buried behind a jar of jam, with its bright label slightly faded. Two forks were grabbed from a drawer without much thought, and her fingers clenched around them as she tried to calm herself. When she turned back, Bucky was stacking the last of the boxes, his back to her.

Her eyes lingered on his body for a beat too long, and her mind flashed back to her stupid, impulsive words. But my bed sure can. She almost groaned out loud, the embarrassment creeping over her anew. She was never going to live this down.

Clearing her throat, she approached him, holding out the can. “Here. I... uh... figured we could share. Since you’re helping me out and all.”

He turned, and his gaze dropped to the can before lifting to meet hers. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Peaches, huh?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. They should be good. Sweet. Soft, too... uh, juicy” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and her face burned all over again. God, why did she have to say it like that?

Bucky just stared at her for a second, flicking his eyes to her lips before his mouth twitched. “Alright.” His voice was a little rougher, a little lower. He took the can from her, popping a metal finger through the lid and curling it, crumpling the metal until it popped off.

He handed it back, licking his finger for a brief moment and she could swear she could have a stroke. “There you go. Good thing at least I’m good as a can opener.”

She furrowed her brow, and the playful glint in her eyes faded. “Don’t do that.”

His shoulders went rigid. What did he do to upset her? “Do what?”

“That,” she said, “Sell yourself short. That... self-deprecation thing you always pull.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from hers. “Just saying the truth.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze dropped to his midsection, to the slight curve that hadn’t been there before. To the proof that his body was failing him, that even with all the enhancements, he was broken.

“Bucky,” she said, with a softer tone but no less resolute. “You’re a damn Avenger. Half the days you come in here, you’re bruised and battered because you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. You protect them. That’s incredible.” Her hand gestured to the neatly stacked crates behind him. “You’re kind... and good. Don’t diminish yourself.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual calm but hard expression. He wanted to deflect, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark. It was easier to joke than to acknowledge the weight of her words. But the way she looked at him, made the words stick in his throat. His fingers tightened around the can, and the metal creaked under his grip. “Yeah, well... sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “Our own perceptions sometimes lie. Doesn’t make it less true.”

He stared at her, and his defenses faltered. The familiar cynicism was there, clawing at him, but her words were louder. His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always this stubborn?”

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Only when someone I care about is being stupid.”

The air grew still. She seemed to realize what she’d said a second too late, eyes widening before she looked away. “I mean... you know... as a customer. And a... friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly as if he was trying to get a better read on her. “A friend to put on your nightstand.”

Her eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. “Sure.”

He leaned against the stacked crates, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over his next words. For a heartbeat, he thought about letting it slide, about keeping his mouth shut and pretending he hadn’t heard. But the thought of not knowing twisted his gut in a way that made him reckless. “Did you mean it?”

Her heart skipped, the peach suddenly feeling too heavy on her tongue. She forced herself to chew slowly, buying time. “What?”

“The... bed.” His gaze pierced in that way that made her feel stripped bare. “Did you mean it?”

Oh. So he had heard her.

Her mind raced, instincts screaming at her to laugh it off, to deflect with a joke or change the subject. But he just stood there, watching her, waiting. It was infuriating how still he could be, how his silence demanded more than words ever could. His eyes didn’t waver, his face was impassive, but there was something tight in his stance, something almost vulnerable in the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before he caught himself, stilling the movement.

She paused mid-chew, the peach now a lump in her throat. The hell with all. “What if I did?”

His expression didn’t change, but his posture did: his shoulders straightened, and his arms uncrossed just slightly. He took a step closer, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Then I’d say... you’d better be sure.”

She swallowed, heat blooming up her neck. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I figured.”

His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek, rough callouses skimming her skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, never breaking the eye contact.

His thumb traced her cheekbone, and his gaze softened as his fingers curled on the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her heartbeats echoing in her ears, but she didn’t dare look away. Not when his eyes were so impossibly blue, locked on hers with a focus that stole her breath.

She parted her lips, in a silent invitation, while her hand found its way to his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened, “Tell me to stop if this is not what you want.” he murmured, but his hand didn’t move.

She shook her head, tightening her fingers on his jacket. “Not a chance.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his lips crashed into hers, firm and demanding, as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer.

She responded instinctively, pressing her body into his as her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. He groaned against her mouth, circling his vibranium arm on her waist.

The world around her faded, the cluttered storeroom, the lingering scent of the peaches, everything disappeared until there was only him. His warmth, his strength, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and he responded by deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she ran a hand along his slightly rounded cheek, tracing its curve with her thumb with a tenderness that made something clench on his chest.

“You are so damn handsome.”

His gaze widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features before something else settled in. Cocky 40s Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, he wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing himself like this, heavier, slower, tired.

He swallowed, as the weight of her words pressed against years of ingrained self-doubt. She exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “I can see the gears turning inside your head, you know?” Her fingers lingered against his skin, warm and sure. “And, in a courageous and embarrassing -but it seems necessary-confession, I must say that I like this version of you. A lot.”

His body tensed beneath her touch. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t one of them. People -some- admired him for what he could do. No one ever said they liked him like this.

He searched her face, looking for doubt, for anything that suggested she was just saying it to make him feel better. His throat felt tight. “You don’t have to say that.”

Her brows furrowed, and her fingers pressed just slightly into his skin. “I told you earlier that I mean what I say. You’re a soft wall of muscle.” She bit her lip, as her eyes drifted over his shoulders, his chest, lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken. “And I like big men, so...”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss. That... wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.

She felt the heat on her face but didn’t look away, just kept caressing his cheek. “In my eyes, you’re better than when I first knew you.”

His heart skipped, the words settling heavy and warm somewhere behind his ribs. “Better?” His voice was low, rough, like he was forcing the word out. “How?”

Her thumb traced his cheekbone, and she felt all the heat in her body rush to her face again. She looked away, sensing her bravado faltering. “God, you’re going to make me say it. This is so embarrassing.” She took a breath, meeting his gaze again. “Sexier, Bucky. You look better to me because I find your bigger body more than appealing. Manlier. Is that enough clarification for y-”

She didn’t get to finish. His mouth crashed again against hers, more heated and demanding than before, as his fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his lips moving hungrily over hers, and she barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid past her lips, tasting, claiming. Her back hit the wall as his body crowded hers, and she didn’t care, didn’t want space, didn’t want air, didn’t want anything that wasn’t him.

His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Her words echoed in his mind, looping over and over again. Sexier. Manlier. More than appealing.

A rush of masculine pride coursed his body, fierce and hot, like lightning in his veins. She wanted him like this, wanted him bigger, broader. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that, how deeply her praise soothed the bruised ego he hadn’t even admitted having.

She felt his growing erection pressing against her hip, and she gripped his shoulders, feeling him beneath. There was nothing soft about him, not in the way he kissed her, fierce and unrelenting, not in the way his body surrounded hers, hard and unyielding.

He tore his mouth from hers, with ragged breathing, eyes dark and wild as they bore into hers. “You like this?” His voice was rough, deeper than before, and his words dripped with hunger. “You like me like this?”

She swallowed, her pulse fluttering wildly. “Yes. God, yes.”

His lips curved into a grin, that old cocky sergeant slipping through the cracks of his armor. “Good,” he growled, as his mouth descended on hers again, sliding down his hand to grip her thigh with bruising force as he hitched her leg up around his waist, pressing himself against her. His mouth was at her ear, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down her spine. “Because I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about fucking you raw under this slutty green apron every damn time you hand me my plums.”

Her brain stuttered, eyes widening as she processed his words.

His hips rolled, grinding his hardon against her tummy, and she felt every inch of his cock, hard and wanting, and god, she couldn’t help it, she whined. A desperate, needy sound that escaped her throat before she could bite it back.

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide as his lips curled again into that smirk. “Always with a little extra product, always checking on me.” His teeth scraped her jaw, flicking out his tongue to taste her skin. “Thought you were just sweet, just nice. Turns out you were trying to fatten me up for yourself, huh?” His words were teasing, but his tone was rough and possessive.

He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that had her gasping, her fingers digging into his shoulders as heat coiled tighter and tighter in her belly.

“Bucky-” Her voice was a breathless plea, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to find words, tried to get a grip on herself, but his mouth was on her neck, sucking a hot, wet mark just above her collarbone, and she was gone, utterly, completely gone.

“You like that, huh?” His teeth grazed her skin again, his metal fingers tightening on her thigh, holding her in place as he ground against her. “Like knowing you drive me crazy? That every time I leave, all I can think about is coming back here, bending you over that counter, and fuck you right there, maybe squishing a fucking orange just to watch the juice dripping down your ass?”

Another whine slipped out, her body arching into his as her hips rolled instinctively to meet his. His words wrapped around her, filthy and raw, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So tell me, sweetheart... how long have you been thinking about me ruining you right here in your little shop?”

“If... if we’re about to speak on hard numbers...” She tried to tease, but the words came out ragged, crumbling under the hard suck he planted just behind her ear. Her body shuddered, another whimper escaping before she could stop it. “I’d say... the first time you came here. You’d just moved in and didn’t... didn’t even have pans to cook. Remember?”

His mouth paused on her skin, lips curved against her neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Came looking for fruit and you ended up selling me that tray of already cut vegetables to make soup. Lent me that steel jar to boil ’em in.” His tongue flicked over the mark he’d made, soothing the sting before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you were too damn trusting. What if I didn’t come back?”

She let out a breathless laugh, curling her fingers on his biceps. “I saw your hand. You forgot the gloves that day... and I figured... the Winter Soldier wouldn’t steal a steel jar.” Her lips twitched, and a spark of mischief lit her eyes. “If you did, well, the loss was on me. But if you didn’t...” She trailed off.

His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on her thigh as he pressed her harder against the wall. “If I didn’t?”

She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs. “Then... I would have set some points with a handsome man.”

“Sneaky,” he muttered, brushing her lips, a teasing, fleeting touch. “You were setting a trap for me from the start.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to earn her another low, hungry sound from him. “Can you blame me?” she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his. “You were brooding and grumpy... and so damn gorgeous.”

His eyes flashed with something wild and primal sparking in them. “And now?” His voice was low and dangerous, his metal fingers flexing on her thigh, holding her in place. “Now that you’ve got me? This bigger, grumpier version?”

She didn’t hesitate, running her hands over his broad shoulders. “Now?” She leaned in, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth before she pulled back. “I’d say It was a pretty good investment.”

His lips were into hers again, swallowing her gasp as his body pressed into hers, heavy and hard and perfect. He kissed her hard, his mouth rough and hungry while rocking his hips against hers, and she moaned, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched into him. He tore his mouth away, with ragged breathing, his eyes pinning her in place as they locked with hers. “Last chance, sugarplum” His voice felt vulnerable beneath the heat. “You want this?”

She held his gaze and pressed herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest enticingly. "I want you to ruin me, papa bear"

He froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. His eyes widened, and his pupils blew wide as her words penetrated his fogged brain. “...What did you just call me?”

Her heart plummeted. Oh god. Why? Why did she have to let that slip out now, of all times? She could feel her face heating up, a wave of mortification crashing over her. “Um... uh...” She looked away, curling her fingers nervously into his shoulders. “Too soon?”

For a heartbeat, he was silent, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as he processed it. But then a low, guttural sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a growl. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing his forehead into her as his body shuddered against hers. “Fuck,”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she swore he could feel it. “S-sorry. I don’t... I don’t even know where that came from, I-”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, pupils blown. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, firm. “Don’t take it back.”

Her mouth went dry, and her body arched instinctively into him as his grip on her tightened. “You- uh... liked it?”

His lips curled into a feral grin, grazing her earlobe with his teeth before he growled, “You have no idea.” His nose brushed her cheek, his lips a breath away from hers. “Say it again.”

Her heart skipped a beat, face flaming. “I-” She hesitated, but the way his body trembled, the raw need in his eyes, the way he was holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish... it shattered any scruple she had. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers as she whispered, “Ruin me, Papa Bear.”

He swore under his breath, crashing his mouth into hers again with bruising force. His hands gripped her tighter, possessive, desperate, and she moaned, opening up to him, letting him in. His tongue swept over hers, hungry and demanding, and she melted, her body molding to his as he consumed her.

He broke away just long enough to start tugging at her apron. “Take it off, or I’ll-”

The faint chime of the bell at the front door echoed through the storage room, hitting them like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened, and he stilled, with his fingers curled around the knot of her apron. The door to the storage room was wide open, and the front door? Neither of them had bothered to close it since none of this was supposed to happen.

His jaw clenched, and he lifted a finger, pointing at her with a look that could melt steel. “Don’t move.”

She barely had time to blink before he was striding out of the storage room, with his hair slightly mussed and crumpled clothing. He rounded the corner to find an elderly woman standing uncertainly by the counter, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.

His expression softened -just a bit- as he forced a strained smile. “It’s closed.”

The woman’s brows knitted together. “Oh, but I just wanted to-”

“Lemme accompany you out, yes?” He cut in, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “An emergency came up, and she’s... not here. I just stopped by to lock up.” His words were rushed, his body practically blocking the doorway.

“Oh, I see...” The woman glanced around, clearly confused but too polite to question him. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, already guiding her toward the door, hovering his hand protectively behind her back as she shuffled out. The door shut with more force than necessary, as the chime echoed sharply in the now-empty store. He twisted the lock, and stood there for a moment, with a rigid back, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In a flash, he was back in the storage room, locking his eyes on her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them, and his fingers went immediately to the buttons of her blouse, his mouth trailing kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin.

He almost groaned when he saw her bra clasp at the front. “You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before popping the clasp with an impatient flick of his fingers. The fabric fell away, and his mouth and hands were on her before he could think: Palms warm against her bare skin, squeezing just hard enough to make her arch into him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. He latched his mouth to the delicate skin just above her collarbone, swirling his tongue, teeth scraping, tasting the salt of her skin.

She was driving him insane. Every little sound, every shiver, every way her fingers gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Her hands were just as eager, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. She hesitated for a heartbeat when her fingers grazed his belly, flicking her eyes up to his. But there was no discomfort there, only hunger. Her pupils were blown, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. Her fingers splayed over his stomach, and the warmth of her touch sank into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her back against the wall as his body settled heavily against hers, his bigger form pinning her in place. She gasped, hitching her leg around his waist again, pulling him closer, grinding, her hips against his, and he nearly lost it.

His lips trailed lower, over the swell of her breast, and his stubble grazed her sensitive skin as his tongue flicked over an already pert nipple. She cried out, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body arched beneath him, desperate, needing more. He was only too happy to oblige, closing his mouth around her, suckling greedily as his hand moved to the other, kneading, teasing.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was a broken whisper, as her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp, and her body writhed against his.

He dragged his mouth back up to hers, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss, slipping his hand beneath her skirt, teasing the edge of her panties. “Want papa bear to touch you, sugarplum?” he growled, rough and low, “Want me to prep you open nice and deep and then ruin this little pussy?”

His words made her shiver, and her whole body tensed at the need in his voice. She could barely breathe, could barely think, as her mind spun while his fingers danced along the delicate lace of her panties, teasing, taunting.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Yes, please.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, “That’s my good girl.” His fingers hooked under the fabric, dragging her panties down slowly, deliberately, grazing his knuckles on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wanted to savor this, to watch her come apart for him.

He lifted her easily, her back hitting the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of her pussy against his stomach made him swear under his breath, his head dropping to her shoulder again as he struggled to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.

His metal fingers pressed her hips into the wall, to accompany his body, pinning her in place as his flesh hand slipped between her thighs. She was already soaked, and he groaned, feeling his cock throbbing painfully against his jeans. “So fucking wet for me... all that from just a little talk?”

Her head tipped back, hitting the wall, lips parting in a breathless gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling lazily, teasing only to dip them lower, slipping them inside her, stretching her, pressing his thumb down on her clit.

He watched her face as he started to move his hand, pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make her shudder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as her hips rocked against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Such a greedy pussy, taking everything I give you.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re mine now.”

Her body clenched around his fingers, a whimper escaping her lips, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on, tightening her muscles as he pushed her closer to the edge.

“Gonna come for me, sugarplum?” His fingers started to move faster, harder, while his thumb circled her clit mercilessly. “Gonna fall apart on my fingers before I even get to ruin you properly?”

Her whole body tensed and her head snapped forward, pressing her forehead into his as she shattered with a force that stole her breath.

“That’s it... that’s my girl,” he whispered, slowing his fingers, easing her down from the high, brushing his lips against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

He adjusted his grip on her body, grinding his clothed erection against her, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready. “And now, I gonna give you what you wanted,” he growled.

He slid his fingers out of her and fumbled with the zipper of his pants "look at the mess you did here, all this cream on my zipper." she just moaned and grind herself against the back of his hand, thrilled by being pinned to the wall by his weight alone and his vibranium hand on her asscheek.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was breathy, broken, and her body trembled as his metal hand squeezed her ass, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

He hummed, while his fingers continued to play with the wetness she’d left on his pants, dragging her up his length, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse under his denim. “You’re so needy for me, sugarplum,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “So wet, so… ready.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind was blank with need as he finally spread his thick thighs squatting a little, and sat her on them, tugging down his zipper, and freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He wrapped his hand around himself, and his eyes never left hers as he stroked once, spreading her slickness all over his length. “You see this?” he growled. “This is what you do to me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes locked down, watching him slowly pump himself, zeroed on the pornographic sight of his cock glistening with a mix of their arousal.

Seeing his heated gaze he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You made this mess... now you’re gonna take responsibility for it”. It was all the warning he did before hooking the back of her knees on his forearms, and pressing his hands on the wall, surging forward, burying the fat head of his cock in her entrance, pushing himself inside her in one slow, stretching thrust.

Her mouth fell open, and a choked moan escaped her lips as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch. Her back arched against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms, nails digging in as her body stretched to accommodate him.

He was relentless, his eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every shudder as he sank into her, slow and merciless. “You feel that?” His voice was a rough whisper, his breath hot against her ear.

She could only nod, as he pressed his hips in even deeper, against hers, burying his cock to the hilt. “Bucky... oh God...” Her legs trembled, thighs spread wide over his forearms, helpless to do anything but take everything he gave her.

He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth as he fought to keep himself in check, to keep from losing himself in the incredible heat of her body. “Fuck... you feel so damn good... driving me crazy, sugarplum.” His words were rough, and breathless, his control slipping with every second he stayed buried inside her.

Her walls quivered around him, tightening instinctively, pulling him in, holding him close. “Bucky... move... please...” she pleaded, trying to roll her hips to create some friction, to ease the maddening stretch.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His fingers almost dug into the bricks, and he began to move in slow, heavy thrusts that made her whole body rock against the wall. Each time he withdrew, she felt the loss, felt the emptiness, and each time he filled her again, her world shattered a little more as she felt his cock stretching her, filling her, owning her. “Oh God...”

He could feel himself losing control, as his thrusts grew harder and faster, pinning her like a ragdoll against the wall, relishing the needy moans and whimpers escaping her lips.

A hand flew to his head tugging his locks as he wrecked her. “Fuck Papa Bear… you feel so good, so heavy, so… fucking… big, you turn me on so much.”

Her praise wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tight as her body did, and his head spun with primal satisfaction. He groaned, as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her flooding her with precum, and growing even harder inside her. “Yeah? You like this thick Bear covering you, pinning you, breeding you full?”

Her head thudded back against the wall, as she tried to tighten her legs against his forearms, to arch her body to join his thrusts, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes, god, yes... love feeling you like this, love how big you are...”

“Fuck, sugar” his bruised ego drank her words like a man dying of thirst. Each confession went straight to his cock. He could feel her body yielding to him, taking everything he gave, and it made him lose his rhythm, made him rut into her like an animal, making her back slide up and down the wall with every hard thrust.

He lifted his arms to spread her wide to take him deeper. Her cries only grew louder, more desperate, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “You’re mine now, sugar plum. Fuck, ‘m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never look at another man again... gonna make sure you remember this every time you close your eyes.”

She whimpered as he buried his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Bucky... Papa... please... don’t stop...” she pleaded, curling her fingers into his hair.

His mouth curved into a half smile against her throat. “Not planning to, sugarplum.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, making her back arch and her legs quiver. “Not until you’re dripping with me... not until you’re so full of my cum you can’t stand.”

Her body convulsed, one hand remained fisting his hair and the other dragged her nails on his broad back, “Fuck! Yes, I want it so bad...”

He lost whatever thread of control he had left. His thrusts grew brutal, punishing as his cock stretched her, pounding into her with a force that bordered on savage. He watched her face contort with pleasure, as the base of his cock ground deliciously against her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled back as he drove into her, harder, faster. “You’re gonna take it all... every drop... you understand?”

She could only nod, her words were lost to the raw, consuming pleasure.

He was so close, muscles tensed to the point of aching, his breath ragged as his cock throbbed, his balls tightened, ready to spill. But he held on, watching her, waiting, needing to see her fall apart first.

“Come on, doll... give it to me... come all over my cock... let me feel it...” he growled, as his wide shoulders caged her in. “Bet you’ve never been this full before. Never had someone this big ruin you like this.”

Her nails raked down his back, desperate, her eyes rolling back as she tried to meet his rhythm but was utterly at his mercy. “F-Fuck, Bucky... so... so big...”

“That’s right,” he rasped, a savage grin flashing across his face. “Too big for this pretty little pussy, huh?” he lifted her higher and marked every word with a harder thrust.

Her entire body seized up before she felt herself shatter, arching against his body and squeezing him, milking him so tight he finally let himself go.

“That’s it... make a mess... make a fucking mess for me, doll... fuck!” his cock jerked, pulsing, as his release came hot and violent, spilling thick ropes of cum inside her. He kept grinding his hips, pressing himself as deep as he could, stirring his load inside her until it was too much to contain. The excess bubbled out around his shaft obscenely, warm and sticky, dripping down her thighs and landing on the floor.

He nipped at her collarbone, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he gently withdrew them from the wall. He eased her thighs down just enough to let her hook them around his waist, and his eyes flicked to an old chair in the corner of the room. Without a word, he began to move with steady steps despite the lingering tremors in his muscles. As he walked them over, each stride pressed him deeper inside her, drawing soft whimpers from her swollen lips.

Reaching the chair, he sank down heavily, the wood creaking beneath their weight. She straddled him, still nesting him deep inside her pussy, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tangling her fingers on his hair. His hands settled on her hips, keeping her pressed close, unwilling to break their connection just yet.

His head fell back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let himself breathe. “You feel... too damn good. Could stay like this all day...”

Her fingers started to brush his hair gently. “Then don’t move... Just stay. You made sure that no other clients visited today." She slightly pinched his stubbled full cheek. "And... is not fair you didn’t remove any of your clothes besides your jacket in all this ordeal."

He huffed out a low laugh, that rumbled against her chest. “Yeah? That bother you, sugarplum?” His hands slid up her back, splaying wide as he pressed her tighter against him. “You wanna see all of me?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I think it’s only fair,” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I wanna see what I’ve been getting my hands on... what I’ve been wanting.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to his still-clothed body, darting her tongue out to wet her lips.

His eyes flicked away for a beat, and his shoulders tensed a little. There was a moment, a fleeting second where his hands stilled on her body, where his fingers dug just a little too hard into her waist. Old doubts echoed in his mind, flashing to his reflection in the mirror, the soft curve of his belly, the heft in his chest that wasn’t just only muscle.

But then she moved, running her hands up his chest, her eyes wide, pupils blown as she whispered. “I want to see you, Bucky.”

His heart thudded hard, but he felt himself relax, the tension ebbing away as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Alright, sugarplum,” he murmured. “You asked for it.”

In one swift motion, he gripped the hem of his shirt, muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He forced himself to sit there, exposed, waiting for the flicker of judgment, for her gaze to catch on his soft middle, or the faint stretch marks on his hips.

But her eyes were wide with interest as she took him in. Her hands roamed over him, tracing her fingers on his skin, lingering on the scars, the old wounds. She palmed his chest, brushing her thumbs over his hardened nipples, and his muscles jumped under her touch.

“Better?” his voice rough, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her explore him.

She bit her lip, as she kept worshipping him. “Better... but I’m not done yet.” She added as she trailed softly the scarred flesh where his prosthesis joined his body with her tongue.

His cock twitched with interest inside her, still hard, still nestled so deep. His hands gripped hard on her waist and his eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, sugarplum.”

She smirked, rolling her hips slowly and deliberately. “Then burn me up, Papa Bear.”

Taglist: @civilbucky @blythesarchives

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

#bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky x reader

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ashychangeling · 1 month ago

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omg I love this series. So good. Honestly if I was in this situation it would be a dream. When steve asked why she was crying in the last chapter (swoon)🥰. Looking forward to see how they turn out.

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn.

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy.

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match.

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me."

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes."

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh.

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them.

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places."

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm.

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first."

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?"

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess."

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys.

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through.

"How... er..." you think about it.

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that.

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you.

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?"

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength.

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he?

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory.

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn.

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...”

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now.

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs.

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare.

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so.

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer?

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.”

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend.

“A little, yeah. Work...”

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts.

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you.

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...”

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle.

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.”

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.”

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do.

“Table for two,” he says.

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.”

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench.

“Booth alright?”

“Sure is,” Steve answers.

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus.

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.”

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you.

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared.

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman.

“Red or white?” He asks.

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve.

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder.

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder.

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls.

“Sounds nice,” you nod.

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine.

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page.

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.”

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.”

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...”

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order.

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type.

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about?

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you.

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth.

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him.

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.”

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him.

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.”

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.”

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth.

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?”

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile.

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.”

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away.

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat.

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers.

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?”

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff.

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.”

“To... us.” You echo softly.

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer.

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.”

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle?

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.”

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.”

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt.

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...”

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much.

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.”

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel.

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.”

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.”

#dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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