houseofaegon

[houseofaegon]

Widow's Web ✩ Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Villain!OC mini-series by @houseofaegon

Moodboards made by @houseofaegon © DO NOT repost or reuse without credit.

masterlist | ch 0: classified |

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FILE NAME: SUBJECT IV-0077 AKA BLACK DAHLIA.

STATUS: ACTIVE MISSION.

THREAT LEVEL: DEADLY — ARMED AND DANGEROUS.

MISSION ASSIGNED TO: SERGEANT JAMES B. BARNES (CURRENT AVENGER).

RISK LEVEL: HIGH — EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY COMPROMISED. INCONSISTENT BEHAVIORAL ANOMALY INVOLVING SGT. BARNES.

She was supposed to be dead.

S.H.I.E.L.D. agents don’t survive an entire building collapsing on their heads—let alone walk away untouched, vanish off the grid, and reappear years later as an agent gone rogue, as a high-level international threat with an extensive body count, several bounties on her head, and a growing list of governments too afraid to speak her name out loud.

But Isadora Vale did.

She was one of theirs once. Recruited and rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. after the Red Room fell. A weapon reprogrammed into a multi-billion dollar asset. They gave her missions, orders, trust—until she learned the truth.

Until they betrayed her—and left her for dead.

And now she’s back, leaving bodies behind like breadcrumbs. Each corpse marked with a crimson lipstick stain. A signature. A warning. An invitation.

She’s a ghost. A myth. A weapon built by the Red Room—refined by S.H.I.E.L.D.—now turned loose against the world that made her. Against the governments that used her. Against the people who claimed to protect her. Against the man who was supposed to be watching her six.

S.H.I.E.L.D. wants her gone.

The Avengers want her caught.

And Bucky Barnes? He can't stop looking for her. Can't stop thinking about her. Can’t decide if he wants to capture her and bring her in, or press her up against a wall and beg her to ruin him

He was assigned to stop her. He tells himself that’s still the plan. Instead, he lets her slip through his fingers again and again. But every time she slips through his fingers—smiling, taunting, calling him sweetheart through stolen comms—he doesn’t pull the trigger. Because somewhere between the blood, the fights that end with heavy breathing and lips too close, the chase, between her whispers in his comms, between the way she smiles before she disappears, he stopped wanting to catch her.

He doesn't understand what's happening to him.

But there’s one thing Bucky Barnes is sure of:

He’s already wrapped around her fingers—caught in her Widow’s Web.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t care, and he doesn't want to get out.

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Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI, morally grey dynamics, dark romance themes, graphic smut, enemies to lovers, rough/hate sex, descriptive violence, injuries, mentions of torture, fight scenes, blood, knifeplay, power play and control, dubious morality, enemies to lovers, obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, unprotected p in v, dark romance themes, mentions of trauma, red room content, psychological conditioning, mentions of abuse, manipulation. each chapter will have specific warnings.

Author's Note: this fic deviates a lot from the canon and actual chronological events from the mcu!! i got a request for a yearning and obsessed bucky x villain reader and my mind started working overtime. this mini series is what I came up with and oh my god? let me just say I'm obsessed and I'm so ready for you all to meet isadora <3 my baby is morally grey but we don't care!!!!!! and bucky?? safe to say he is OBSESSED with her. hope you all like it. comment if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @ruexj283 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

[houseofaegon]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor, to the toilet seat, from the dining room table, to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink, to the shower, from the front porch, to the balcony, vertically horizontally, quadratic, exponent, algorithmetic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back aching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw-dropping, hair pulling teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, over stimulating, vile, sloppy, moan-inducing, heart-wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark-worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcanic erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, hip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail snatching, spectacular, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, malforming, heavenly, devil's tango. please.

[houseofaegon]

is—is that—is that a mask???😭😭😭

[houseofaegon]

I JUST GOT TICKETS FOR THUNDERBOLTS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ready to see my man on the big screen again!!!!!!!

[houseofaegon]

i literally love you so much it’s insane😭😭💘💘 THANK YOU!! i laughed and blushed and giggled so hard while reading this omg ily ily ily thank you!!!!!

Say My Name ✩ Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Dom!Bucky x Asgardian!Loki's sister!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. no use of y/n. very filthy smut, enemies to lovers, rough/hate sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up irl, babes!!!), choking, spitting kink, hair pulling, orgasm denial/orgasm control, spanking, spitting, overstimulation, slapping, avengers compound setting, degradation and praise kink, possessive!bucky, dom!bucky, bratty!reader, power play, dirty talk, angst, name-calling.

Summary: Bucky Barnes swore he hated you. You swore you hated him more. But one sleepless night, he catches you moaning his name through your bedroom door—and hate turns to heat, fast. Now you're both tangled in sheets, dripping in sweat, cursing each other out while you fuck like enemies who never want to stop. And if your brother finds out? Well, that's a problem for later.

Word count: ~5.2k

Author's note: this is the filthiest smut I've ever written in my entire life. jesus christ. i even needed a moment to actually get out of my house and breath some fresh air cause what the fuck??? it's 5 am in the morning I almost screamed. please lord have mercy I need bucky so bad it huuuuuuurrrttttssssss. comments, reblogs, screams-in-tags all deeply welcomed!!! <3 anyone who wants to join my bucky/sebastian taglist comment below!! i might make this into a little series too cause I love the dynamic between loki's sister!reader and bucky <333333 ugh I'm so obsessed this is concerning, might need to bill someone my therapy bill.

masterlist.

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Bucky Barnes lay awake, shirtless, sweat-slicked skin glistening beneath the pale moonlight that filtered through his bedroom window. The dog tags resting on his chest rose and fell with every frustrated breath.

He couldn't sleep. Every single time he closed his eyes, all he saw was you. You had managed to bury yourself deep beneath his skin, taunting him, tormenting him, becoming an itch he couldn't scratch no matter how hard he tried.

You were chaos personified—Loki’s younger sister, a literal goddess, Asgardian royalty, a princess—and from the moment you had walked into the Avengers' compound, carrying yourself with a confident smirk and blazing fire in your eyes, he'd known you would be trouble.

You were so goddamned infuriating—self-entitled, bratty, cocky, reckless, and hypnotizingly beautiful. Everything he fucking hated. You drove him insane with every single word, every glance, every smirk.

And God, he hated himself even more for wanting you. He wanted to slap those annoying fucking smirks off your pretty face. But a part of him wanted to taste those plump lips every time a sly smile curled at the corner of your mouth

Growling irritably, Bucky swung himself out of bed, walking barefoot down the silent hallways of the Avengers compound. His mind echoed with the last fight you both had had hours before.

The mission had gone to complete shit. Somehow, the blame had fallen on both of you—naturally. You had rushed recklessly into enemy fire, your magic blazing emerald flames and crackling energy that nearly brought down half the building you both were in. He'd chased after you, dodging bullets and debris, trying desperately to keep you alive despite your reckless disregard for your own safety. That had always been your goddamn problem—acting as if you were untouchable, invincible, above it all. And it drove him fucking insane.

He could still feel the heat radiating from you as you both stood chest to chest, your eyes blazing with an emerald glow, your magic rippling dangerously beneath your fingertips. But he wasn't afraid of you, of what you could do. No. He was fucking furious.

"You had no fucking right!" You shouted, slamming your hands into his chest. "I knew what I was doing! I don't need your help, Barnes!"

He didn't care that the entire team was watching both of you. He was fuming. His hands snapped out, seizing your wrists roughly, pulling you into him, "What you were doing was nearly getting yourself fucking killed! You think just because you're some goddamn goddess you’re invincible?"

You laughed mockingly. "I'm certainly not fragile enough to need protection from an asshole like you. Stop being my fucking guard dog, Barnes!"

His grip tightened, leaning in close enough to feel your breath mingle with his own. "Careful, princess," he growled darkly, his voice dangerously low. "Keep running that bratty little mouth, and I'll gladly show you just how fucking ruthless I can be."

Your eyes narrowed, emerald fire flaring brightly around your fingertips, daring him to push further. You hated when he called you that—princess—like you were some spoiled child throwing tantrums.

"Call me that again, Barnes," you hissed, "and I’ll make sure it’s the last word you ever fucking say."

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips, his eyes darkening. "Is that supposed to scare me, princess?" he drawled, deliberately taunting you, his voice dripping mockery. "I'd love to see you try."

Your powers ignited in an instant, your body and eyes blazing, an emerald hue washing over you. You were so close—so fucking close—to unleashing it all on him, just to wipe that smug smirk off his arrogant face.

"Hey!" Steve's voice suddenly snapped through the tense silence, forcing its way between the two of you. "Enough! You two better stop this now!"

You and Bucky froze, locked in a heated stare over Steve’s shoulder. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, emerald sparks still flickering along your fingertips, struggling to regain control.

It took Steve physically dragging him off to the Quinjet to stop Bucky from completely losing control.

Now, drinking alone in the dark kitchen, Bucky scowled bitterly as he downed his whiskey.

He'd been through enough battles in his lifetime, enough trauma and violence, but none had prepared him for the chaos you unleashed every time you entered a room. For the chaos you unleashed the moment you entered his life. And fuck—he shouldn't have been attracted to you. He shouldn't have wanted you, craved you, desired you. You were everything he despised, everything he fought against, and yet… he couldn't get you out of his goddamn head.

"Fuck," he growled under his breath, pouring himself another generous measure of whiskey, desperate to drown out thoughts of you.

But the whiskey did nothing to ease the ache, nothing to ease the overwhelming tension that gripped him tighter and tighter. He was already on his third glass. With a frustrated sigh, Bucky slammed his glass down onto the countertop, deciding he'd had enough. The alcohol clearly wasn't going to solve anything tonight.

He pushed himself up from the counter and stalked back toward his room, his footsteps heavy, his breathing ragged as anger and frustration still rippled through him

He stepped quietly through the hallway, right in front of your bedroom door. He froze suddenly, his heart skipping a beat at the unmistakable sound coming through your door.

A moan.

Your moan.

His breath caught in his throat, every muscle in his body going rigid as the realization hit him like a train.

You were moaning.

He swallowed hard, a ringing sound in his ears, his heart hammering against his chest. He knew he should keep walking. Fuck, he should've just ignored it, kept moving past your door and pretended he never heard a thing—but for fuck's sake, he couldn't. He physically couldn't move. His body was frozen in place.

Slowly, he leaned in closer, heart pounding even louder as he pressed his ear to your bedroom door. He held perfectly still, catching his breath, trying not to make a single sound.

Another moan filled his ears, louder this time, needier, filled with unmistakable desire.

Your voice nearly made him choke.

"Fuck, Bucky—"

Holy. Fuck.

Bucky jerked backward from the door like he'd been burned, his chest falling rapidly as your desperate moan echoed in his ears, searing straight through him. His cock throbbed, painfully hardening against his sweatpants. He pressed the heel of his palm to it, groaning low in his throat, eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck," he muttered softly.

You were thinking about him.

You. The spoiled, reckless, bratty, infuriating goddess who drove him absolutely insane—lying in your bed, just a few feet away from him, fingers buried between your thighs, moaning his fucking name like he was your salvation.

You were moaning his fucking name.

And fuck if that didn't shatter every shred, every ounce of self-control he barely had left.

He let out a harsh pant, his metal arm flying out to grab the door handle. He froze for a second. He shouldn't—he knew he shouldn't—but goddamn it, he was beyond caring about what he should do.

Not when you were begging for him on the other side.

But his other mind—the darker part of him, the part that burned every time you smirked at him, rolled your eyes at him, teased and taunted him—that part wanted to kick the door down and claim you.

You wanted him. He could see it in your eyes. In the way your eyes found his in the midst of the battlefield. In the way your eyes lingered on his lips for a little bit too long during heated arguments.

And now? You were fucking touching yourself to the thought of him.

That drove him insane.

“Fuck it.”

Before he could second-guess himself, his hand gripped the handle. He pushed the door open and slipped inside quickly, jaw set, expression dark. He shut the door quietly behind him—click—and turned the lock without even looking.

His eyes were glued to you.

And what a fucking sight.

It only lasted a few seconds but god, did he enjoy them.

You were laying on your back, completely bare, your fingers playing with yourself. Your mouth parted sinfully as another moan escaped your lips, hips arching to meet the delicious touch of your fingers on your clit.

One look at you was enough for him. He was obsessed.

Your eyes flew open, pupils blown wide with shock and fury. You bolted upright, grabbing the sheet and dragging it over your bare chest, breath ragged, lips swollen from biting them, cheeks flushed.

"Barnes?! What the fuck—"

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, voice rough, closing the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps. Climbing right on top of you. “Was enjoying the show.”

Your nostrils flared as you clutched the sheet tighter, glaring at him. “Get the fuck out, Barnes.”

He laughed. Laughed. That low, condescending, cocky sound that made your blood boil and your thighs clench.

“Oh, now you wanna play shy, princess?” he mocked. “You didn’t sound so shy when you were moaning my name like a desperate little whore.”

Your jaw dropped, “I hate you.”

His smile grew wider.

"No, doll," he murmured, his metal hand reaching out to wrap around your throat just enough to tilt your chin up. "You want me, don't you? You've been dripping all over those pretty fingers for me."

You trembled beneath his touch, anger and desire making your body shake.

"If you wanted me so fucking badly, doll," he growled, leaning in until his breath ghosted across your lips, “all you had to do was ask nicely."

"Fuck you," you spat.

"You're about to, baby" he growled, before yanking the sheet away with one brutal pull.

God, you were perfect. Every inch of your skin flushed and glowing. Your legs slightly spread, your pussy slick and shiny with the aftermath of your own fingers—and the sound of you moaning his name still echoed in his brain like a goddamn curse.

He shouldn’t be here.

He hated you. He really fucking did.

But fuck, he couldn’t stop now.

Not when he had you right underneath him, bare and dripping, so ready for him.

His metal hand slid down your body, cool fingers tracing your sweat-slicked skin, and you shivered, glaring at him like you wanted to kill him.

He loved that look.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t want me, princess?” he mocked, caressing your nipple with his thumb and watching it pebble under his touch. “Still gonna act like your pussy wasn’t soaked from thinking about me? Gonna act like you weren't moaning my name?”

“Please, don't fucking flatter yourself," you snapped. “You caught me on a bad night. Could’ve been thinking about anyone. Maybe I just needed anyone to get me off.”

His head dropped with a low chuckle, and then he was between your thighs, spreading them with both hands, pulling you open for him like he had every goddamn right.

You gasped. “What the fuck are you—”

“Shh, princess, be a good little goddess,” he purred, eyes locked on yours as his breath ghosted over your dripping heat, “and shut the fuck up while I ruin that pretty pussy with my mouth.”

You were about to curse him again—but the second his tongue touched you, all that came out was a high, wrecked moan.

"Bucky—!”

He groaned—loud, filthy, like he’d just gotten a hit of something he’d been craving for years. His tongue was hot and relentless, dragging up your slit, flicking over your clit before sucking it hard enough to make your hips jump.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned against you, mouth messy and open. “Taste even better than I fucking dreamed.”

And oh, he had dreamed about this. So many times. Late at night, fist wrapped around his cock, imagining you beneath him like this—flushed, panting, wrecked. But nothing had prepared him for how sweet you actually tasted. How soaked you were. How your thighs trembled when he sucked a little harder, flicked his tongue a little faster.

He hated your guts. But god, he couldn���t bring himself to deny how much he wanted to bury his face between your thighs and be the one who would ruin you. Destroy you. Make you come so hard all over his face. Moan his name.

His moans were constant, vibrating into you as he devoured you like a starving man, tongue dipping into your tight hole before dragging back up to your clit again, again, again—

You moaned under him, fingers gripping his hair, pulling it like you owned him. And he let you. Fucking loved it.

“You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you panted, eyes fluttering. “Because you’re still an asshole. And I still fucking hate you”

He laughed. Right against your clit. It made you moan again.

He pulled back just enough to growl, looking up at you, lips soaked, chin glistening. Fuck, he looked so hot. “And you’re still a fucking brat.” His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles as he stared up at you. “But this pussy?” He leaned in and spat on it. Watched it drip down. You gasped and moaned. He spread you with two fingers, giving him full access to your clit. “This belongs to me now.”

You drop your head back with a loud moan.

“Still wanna pretend you don’t fucking need me? Wanna pretend you don’t fucking want me so bad? “he murmured, thumbing your clit again, rubbing tight circles as he licked into you like he was starving. “You were moaning my name, baby. Fucking crying for it.”

He was fucking starving. Starving for you. Starving for your body. And if he died right now, he’d die happily knowing your pussy was his last meal.

“Because you drive me insane,” you gasped, back arching, grinding your hips involuntarily against his face. “Not because I want you.”

“Bullshit.”

He growled it right against you, then sucked your clit into his mouth—hard.

You screamed.

He went back down—groaning deep, tongue working harder now, lips wrapped around your clit as he sucked and moaned into you like it was his only purpose on this planet.

He was addicted.

He moaned louder—grinding into the mattress beneath him, needing the friction. He was hard. So fucking hard just from eating you out. It was sick how much he was getting off on this.

If he kept eating you out like this he was sure he’d cum right there. You let out a whimper as he bit your clit softly. Enough for you to feel it but not enough to hurt you.

“That’s it,” he moaned, “God, you sound so fucking hot. So much attitude until you’re leaking all over my fucking tongue. Bet ya' touch yourself every night thinking 'bout me choking you and fucking you into your bed until you're nothing but a whimpering mess. That's what you want, isn't it, princess? You want my cock to destroy you. To fuck you hard."

You whimpered in response—because he was right.

And he fucking knew it.

And you hated that he knew it.

“Fuck, you’re shaking already,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to spit on your cunt again, then licked it up like it was honey. “You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna drench my face like a good little whore?”

You let out a loud moan.

He grinned.

“What was that, baby?" he drawled, fingers spreading you open for his tongue. "You were so cocky earlier. So fucking loud. What happened to that bratty little mouth?”

“Still here, asshole,” you snapped breathlessly, lips curling into a smirk even as your thighs trembled. “You’re just too pussy-drunk to realize I’m still winning.”

He dragged his mouth away from you with a wet filthy sound, staring up at you with wild eyes.

“Oh, is that right, baby?” he growled, his voice darker than you'd ever heard it. “Still think this is a fucking game?”

He stood.

No warning—just grabbed your thighs, strong hands locking around your hips as he yanked you down the bed like you weighed nothing. Your ass hit the edge of the mattress, legs dangling, body wide open beneath him.

He towered over you, jaw clenched, eyes black with lust.

Then his hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants.

He shoved his sweats down and—

Fuck.

You gasped.

His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, veiny, leaking. It slapped against his lower abdomen with a wet sound, and your mouth actually fell open.

“Oh, that shut you up real fast,” he sneered, stroking himself lazily, fist pumping over the thick shaft as he stared at your pussy like it owed him something. Like he owned it. “What happened to all that attitude, huh? Still winning, princess?”

Your jaw tightened. You didn’t respond—but your thighs pressed together just barely. He saw it and the bastard smirked.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

He reached down, grabbed your thighs and pulled them open, exposing you again to his hungry stare.

“Look at that, baby. So fucking pretty,” he muttered. “Soaked for me. Fucking glistening. And you still want to pretend this doesn’t drive you fucking wild?”

You glared up at him, breath ragged.

“I’d rather die than beg you, asshole,” you spat, venom laced through every word. “You think that cock’s special? I’ve fucking seen better.”

That pulled a low, growling laugh from him—deep in his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” he snarled, climbing over you, his cock dragging over your inner thigh. “Then look at it, baby.”

He grabbed your chin with his metal arm and forced your gaze downward.

"Look. At. It." He hissed. "Fucking look at the cock that's gonna wreck your bratty little cunt. The one you're gonna cum so hard on, you won't even remember your own name. The one you're gonna beg for."

He pressed the tip to your entrance and pulled back. Again. And again. And again.

You whimpered before you could even stop yourself.

“Fucking knew it,” he sneered, a smug dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Your mouth says ‘no,’ but this pussy?” He slapped the head against your clit and watched you twitch. “She's already begging.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, voice shaking, lip curled in fury. “You’re so fucking—”

He cut you off with a growl, grabbing your jaw again—hard—and shoving two metal fingers deep into your pussy without warning.

You screamed, the cold making your back arch as your walls clamped around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re squeezing my fingers like you need them, princess.”

"Shut up," you groaned.

He chuckled, eyes dropping to your chest as he slowly leaned down, tongue darting out to lick a long, wet stripe across your nipple.

You gasped, back arching, as his fingers pumped into you.

“Tell me to stop.”

His fingers curled deep, pressing against that perfect spot inside you as his mouth wrapped around your nipple—sucking hard. He moaned against your nipple, his eyes closing shut as he devoured it. God, he was addicted.

"Say it," he rasped, tongue still working torturously against your hardened bud. "Say the word, and I'll walk out that door and leave you right here, soaking and empty. We'll forget this ever happened just say the word. Tell me to stop."

You choked on a moan.

Then—a third finger.

“Fuck—Bucky!” you cried out, back arching off the bed, thighs shaking.

His eyes snapped open, still sucking your tit, and they locked with yours. You were panting, staring down at him like you could burn him alive.

He just smiled, teeth biting softly on your skin.

Motherfucker.

“Yes, baby?” he purred, tongue swirling your nipple, lips wrapped around it as he sucked and pulled, his fingers still working inside you. His eyes locked with yours.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

That little whimper of yours shattered whatever restraint he had left.

He growled, deep and guttural, pulling his fingers from your soaked cunt and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and moaning. You whimpered at the loss, but he was already lining his cock up, his tip pressing hot and hard against your dripping core.

“Oh, I’m not fucking stopping, baby,” he snarled, voice low and feral. “You asked for it, now you’re gonna take every inch like a good little slut.”

And then he slammed into you.

You screamed—choked and high-pitched, body jolting as his cock filled you deep, thick and unforgiving, stretching you open in one hard thrust.

“F-fuck—!”

“Goddamn,” he moaned, head dropping to your shoulder as he was fully inside you, hips grinding into you. “Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever had—shit, baby—it's like you were made for me.”

You reached up, clutching his hard back, fingernails digging into his delicious muscles.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust yourself to his size. He couldn’t. He was desperate.

He started ramming into you.

Hard. Brutal. Each thrust punched a ragged moan from your lungs, his balls slapping against your skin. His cock was deep, dragging along every sensitive nerve ending, forcing pleasure into you.

"You hear that, princess?" he growled, his metal hand grabbing your thigh and pushing it higher, spreading you wider. His cock hitting a spot far deeper inside you, making your eyes roll back. "That's the sound of your pretty wet pussy sucking me entirely. Fuck! Sounds so hot."

You were moaning nonstop now, his name falling from your lips between gasps and groans.

“Bucky—Bucky—f-fuck—oh my God—yes!”

He groaned, loud and proud, fucking into you harder. Faster.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, his dog tag slapping against your chin with every hard thrust. "Say my name. Louder. Let the whole fucking compound know who's fucking you so damn good."

You sobbed, back arching, legs locking tight around his waist, your hips meeting his every brutal thrust like your life depended on it. His cock hit deep, again and again, every slam stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Y-you’re such a fucking bitch—ah—”

His hand snapped around your throat, just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

“Say that again, you fucking brat,” he growled in your ear. "Call me a bitch one more time while you're fucking soaking my cock. Fucking do it."

He slammed into you harder, dragging a scream from your throat as your pussy clenched around him

“Go on, princess. Open that pretty mouth of yours. Say it again.”

You tried. God, you really fucking tried. Tried to stay defiant. Tried to curse at him. But all that came out was a high, broken moan.

“Fuck—Bucky yes!”

His smile was pure sin.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He growled, driving his cock even deeper, slamming into your soaked pussy with a rhythm that felt unholy.

Fuck Super Soldiers and their fucking stamina

Each thrust made your vision blur, your moans sharper, needier.

Your hands flew to his neck—nails raking down the sides, dragging red lines across his skin as your head fell back in ecstasy.

"Fuck—yes!—fuck you!” you whimpered, tears threatening to spill. "You motherfucker—you're so fucking full of yourself, Bucky Barnes."

He let out a dark chuckle. "Other way 'round, princess. You're so fucking full of me," he leaned down, face inches from yours as he sneered, "you're nothin' but a cockdrunk little brat now, aren't you?"

You opened your mouth to snap back, but he grabbed your chin hard and crashed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was brutal, messy, deep. Teeth clashing, tongues fighting. He groaned and moaned against your lips, and you opened your mouth further, letting his tongue explore its way inside. You bit his bottom lip hard until you tasted copper, and he pulled back with a snarl.

His hand snapped across your cheek. Hard but not hard enough to hurt you.

The slap echoed, followed by a loud moan that ruptured through your chest.

His eyes widened.

"Who would've fucking thought? Pretty little Asgardian princess loves getting slapped in the face and fucked like a slut."

Your hand was still around his throat—gripping him tight—and your glare was lethal through the tears.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

His hand shot up to mirror yours—gripping your throat in return.

His cock didn’t stop. The thrusts stayed hard. Relentless. Deep.

“Am I, princess?” he rasped. “You fucking hate me so much, don’t you?”

“Yes!—Fuck yes—I fucking hate your guts, Barnes”

He slammed into you again, then grabbed your chin tighter and forced your eyes downward.

“But look at you, baby. Look good your pussy is taking me," your eyes closed shut, a loud moan erupting from your chest. "Open your eyes baby," you obeyed, your gaze landing on how good his cock was driving into you, relentlessly, so hard it made you tremble. The wet sounds were so filthy, but you loved it. "Good girl, there you go. Look how fucking deep you're taking me. Look how good this asshole is fucking you."

He lifted your chin up once again, making you look at him directly in the eyes.

"Open that pretty little mouth of yours."

You stared at him, didn't move. He narrowed his eyes and growled.

"Open your fucking mouth."

He grabbed your jaw harder and slammed into you with such brutal force your lips parted, a moan escaping before you could stop it.

And then—he spat in your mouth.

Right on your tongue.

"Swallow”

You did. And when your throat moved, swallowing his spit, your eyes lifted back to his. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips.

He groaned—deep—his head falling forward, his fingers curling around your throat.

“Good girl.”

You moaned in response.

"Tell me what you want, princess," Bucky panted, his forehead pressed to yours as his hips slowed just enough to make you whimper. Your nails dragged down his chest, leaving red, angry lines. His breath stuttered. "I wanna make you cum so hard—fuck!"

He moaned as your fingers raked lower, palms flat, feeling every hard ridge of his muscles.

"God, baby, yes—Fuck! Do that again," he begged, his voice dipping to a growl as you scraped over his pecs again, your nails biting into his skin like you wanted to own him. Like you wanted to mark him. For him to remember who he belonged to. "Fuck—please, tell me what you need, just say it. I'll give you anything"

That's when you moved.

You shoved at his chest, hard, slid from underneath him and straddled his lap while grabbing his cock and sinking back down onto him in one filthy, wet motion that made you both cry out.

His head hit the pillow.

“Jesus Christ—baby—holy fuck!” he moaned, voice cracking, hips bucking up involuntarily as he felt you clenching around him. “Fuck yes, baby—ride that cock. Use me. Fucking take it. I’m all yours—oh shit!”

Your hands braced against his hard chest as you started to move—grinding, rolling, your hips working his cock deeper with every bounce.

“God, yes!” Bucky moaned, eyes glued to your bouncing tits as they moved with every slap of skin. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, voice ragged. “There she is. That’s it, baby—just like that.”

His hands flew to your waist, holding on for dear life as you bounced up and down.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot—”

"Mmhm," you gasped, grinding down hard on his cock. "You like that, soldier? Having me bounce on your cock?"

His head dropped back with a wrecked whimper.

“Yes—fuck, princess, you’re so hot—so fucking perfect—bouncing on my cock like a good little slut!"

You smirked, chest heaving, hands sliding down his abs.

"You feel so fucking good inside me, Bucky," you moaned. "Fuck! I fucking hate how good your cock feels."

His moan punched out of him like a sob. His hands moved to your tits, squeezing them hard, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they ached. He watched every twitch, every bounce, completely obsessed.

“Fucking say it again,” he begged. “Tell me how good my cock feels. Tell me how much you hate loving it.”

"Motherfucker," you groaned, your hips grinding over him, your clit dragging against his skin with every delicious roll of your body. "I fucking hate how much I love having you inside me."

"I fucking love it, princess," he cried, a desperate growl ripping from his throat. "Love being under you, baby—yours. This cock is yours. Do whatever you want with it—just don’t fucking stop—”

You whimpered, grinding down harder, your nails clawing at his chest.

"Fuck—fuck you—fucking hate you," you moaned. "Oh god, I'm gonna come—I can't!"

His hands flew to your hips, gripping hard, slamming you down onto him over and over as he started bucking up into you.

"No, princess," he growled, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. "You can, and you fucking will. You wanted it so bad—now you fucking take it."

He started thrusting up into you with a force so brutal that it made you see stars. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips—you were pretty sure he'd leave bruises and marks, but you didn't care. It felt so fucking good.

“Fuck—Bucky—wait! I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you fucking stop, baby,” he growled, dragging you down harder with each thrust, his voice shaking. You moved with him, bouncing up and down, meeting his thrusts. You felt him so deep it made your legs tremble. “There you go—such a good fucking girl riding my cock. Come on, baby—keep going.”

You sobbed, overstimulated and completely ruined, your hips still moving because you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. His cock dragged over every nerve, every spot that made you fall apart.

“Say my name, baby,” he moaned, voice breaking. “Fuck, yes—say it! Who’s fucking you, huh? Say it. Fucking say it!”

“BUCKY!” you screamed, head falling back as the orgasm slammed into you. “FUCK—BUCKY—”

Your pussy clamped down so hard it knocked the breath out of both of you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn't. The overstimulation made you dizzy. Even as you shook. Even as your legs gave out. Even as your moans became cries. You didn't stop.

You kept fucking riding him—desperate, moaning, mouth open, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He was gone. Far gone. Obsessed. Completely feral and at your mercy.

“I know you can give me one more,” he growled, voice raw, completely unhinged. “Come on, princess—keep riding that dick. Fuck—you’re perfect, baby, so fucking perfect—”

You groaned, desperately, your legs trembling uncontrollably. "You're gonna come inside me like a good little soldier, aren't you? Gonna fill me up real good while I fuck you. You want that, Bucky?"

“F-fuck—yes—yes, baby, pl-please—” he sobbed, eyes squeezing shut, his head dropping back, lips parting.

And then he screamed, his eyes fluttered open locking with yours right as he came.

“OH FUCK—YES!”

He came deep, cock twitching violently as he spilled inside you, his moan wrecked, loud and filthy, vibrating straight through your body.

You felt it—every hot pulse of cum flooding right through you, dripping down your thighs as you kept riding him.

He didn’t stop either—his hands grabbed your hips and slammed you down again, and again, even as he came, desperate to keep the connection, to feel all of it.

"Jesus—fuck yes—you’re milking my cock fucking dry, baby!" he cried, his body twitching under yours.

Your entire body ached. Your thighs were shaking. Your pussy was sore and stuffed full—but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Because you hated him.

And because you needed him.

"You're really fucking lucky your dick's good, Barnes," you hissed, voice cracking with a moan as you grinded against him softly. "Because I still hate you."

He barked out a breathless raspy laugh, grabbing your ass.

"Right back at you, princess. You're the most insufferable fucking brat I've ever met—and the best fuck of my goddamn life.”

You collapsed fully on top of his chest, head tucked into his neck, breathing hard.

He sighed, his big hands resting on your ass and your lower back.

"You're gonna be the death of me, doll."

You let out a breathless chuckle, lips brushing his throat. Then your head lifted looking down at him.

"No, pretty boy," you murmured. "That's gonna be my brother when he finds out."

His grin stretched wide across his flushed face.

God, he looked so beautiful like this.

His hand resting on your back traveled down to grip your ass, possessively.

"If, baby." He kissed you, rough, deep, fucking filthy. Then he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips:

"If he finds out."

And then the bastard winked.

Oh, yeah. You two were absolutely fucked.

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taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug <3

[houseofaegon]

Say My Name ✩ Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Dom!Bucky x Asgardian!Loki's sister!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. no use of y/n. very filthy smut, enemies to lovers, rough/hate sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up irl, babes!!!), choking, spitting kink, hair pulling, orgasm denial/orgasm control, spanking, spitting, overstimulation, slapping, avengers compound setting, degradation and praise kink, possessive!bucky, dom!bucky, bratty!reader, power play, dirty talk, angst, name-calling.

Summary: Bucky Barnes swore he hated you. You swore you hated him more. But one sleepless night, he catches you moaning his name through your bedroom door—and hate turns to heat, fast. Now you're both tangled in sheets, dripping in sweat, cursing each other out while you fuck like enemies who never want to stop. And if your brother finds out? Well, that's a problem for later.

Word count: ~5.2k

Author's note: this is the filthiest smut I've ever written in my entire life. jesus christ. i even needed a moment to actually get out of my house and breath some fresh air cause what the fuck??? it's 5 am in the morning I almost screamed. please lord have mercy I need bucky so bad it huuuuuuurrrttttssssss. comments, reblogs, screams-in-tags all deeply welcomed!!! <3 anyone who wants to join my bucky/sebastian taglist comment below!! i might make this into a little series too cause I love the dynamic between loki's sister!reader and bucky <333333 ugh I'm so obsessed this is concerning, might need to bill someone my therapy bill.

masterlist.

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Bucky Barnes lay awake, shirtless, sweat-slicked skin glistening beneath the pale moonlight that filtered through his bedroom window. The dog tags resting on his chest rose and fell with every frustrated breath.

He couldn't sleep. Every single time he closed his eyes, all he saw was you. You had managed to bury yourself deep beneath his skin, taunting him, tormenting him, becoming an itch he couldn't scratch no matter how hard he tried.

You were chaos personified—Loki’s younger sister, a literal goddess, Asgardian royalty, a princess—and from the moment you had walked into the Avengers' compound, carrying yourself with a confident smirk and blazing fire in your eyes, he'd known you would be trouble.

You were so goddamned infuriating—self-entitled, bratty, cocky, reckless, and hypnotizingly beautiful. Everything he fucking hated. You drove him insane with every single word, every glance, every smirk.

And God, he hated himself even more for wanting you. He wanted to slap those annoying fucking smirks off your pretty face. But a part of him wanted to taste those plump lips every time a sly smile curled at the corner of your mouth

Growling irritably, Bucky swung himself out of bed, walking barefoot down the silent hallways of the Avengers compound. His mind echoed with the last fight you both had had hours before.

The mission had gone to complete shit. Somehow, the blame had fallen on both of you—naturally. You had rushed recklessly into enemy fire, your magic blazing emerald flames and crackling energy that nearly brought down half the building you both were in. He'd chased after you, dodging bullets and debris, trying desperately to keep you alive despite your reckless disregard for your own safety. That had always been your goddamn problem—acting as if you were untouchable, invincible, above it all. And it drove him fucking insane.

He could still feel the heat radiating from you as you both stood chest to chest, your eyes blazing with an emerald glow, your magic rippling dangerously beneath your fingertips. But he wasn't afraid of you, of what you could do. No. He was fucking furious.

"You had no fucking right!" You shouted, slamming your hands into his chest. "I knew what I was doing! I don't need your help, Barnes!"

He didn't care that the entire team was watching both of you. He was fuming. His hands snapped out, seizing your wrists roughly, pulling you into him, "What you were doing was nearly getting yourself fucking killed! You think just because you're some goddamn goddess you’re invincible?"

You laughed mockingly. "I'm certainly not fragile enough to need protection from an asshole like you. Stop being my fucking guard dog, Barnes!"

His grip tightened, leaning in close enough to feel your breath mingle with his own. "Careful, princess," he growled darkly, his voice dangerously low. "Keep running that bratty little mouth, and I'll gladly show you just how fucking ruthless I can be."

Your eyes narrowed, emerald fire flaring brightly around your fingertips, daring him to push further. You hated when he called you that—princess—like you were some spoiled child throwing tantrums.

"Call me that again, Barnes," you hissed, "and I’ll make sure it’s the last word you ever fucking say."

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips, his eyes darkening. "Is that supposed to scare me, princess?" he drawled, deliberately taunting you, his voice dripping mockery. "I'd love to see you try."

Your powers ignited in an instant, your body and eyes blazing, an emerald hue washing over you. You were so close—so fucking close—to unleashing it all on him, just to wipe that smug smirk off his arrogant face.

"Hey!" Steve's voice suddenly snapped through the tense silence, forcing its way between the two of you. "Enough! You two better stop this now!"

You and Bucky froze, locked in a heated stare over Steve’s shoulder. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, emerald sparks still flickering along your fingertips, struggling to regain control.

It took Steve physically dragging him off to the Quinjet to stop Bucky from completely losing control.

Now, drinking alone in the dark kitchen, Bucky scowled bitterly as he downed his whiskey.

He'd been through enough battles in his lifetime, enough trauma and violence, but none had prepared him for the chaos you unleashed every time you entered a room. For the chaos you unleashed the moment you entered his life. And fuck—he shouldn't have been attracted to you. He shouldn't have wanted you, craved you, desired you. You were everything he despised, everything he fought against, and yet… he couldn't get you out of his goddamn head.

"Fuck," he growled under his breath, pouring himself another generous measure of whiskey, desperate to drown out thoughts of you.

But the whiskey did nothing to ease the ache, nothing to ease the overwhelming tension that gripped him tighter and tighter. He was already on his third glass. With a frustrated sigh, Bucky slammed his glass down onto the countertop, deciding he'd had enough. The alcohol clearly wasn't going to solve anything tonight.

He pushed himself up from the counter and stalked back toward his room, his footsteps heavy, his breathing ragged as anger and frustration still rippled through him

He stepped quietly through the hallway, right in front of your bedroom door. He froze suddenly, his heart skipping a beat at the unmistakable sound coming through your door.

A moan.

Your moan.

His breath caught in his throat, every muscle in his body going rigid as the realization hit him like a train.

You were moaning.

He swallowed hard, a ringing sound in his ears, his heart hammering against his chest. He knew he should keep walking. Fuck, he should've just ignored it, kept moving past your door and pretended he never heard a thing—but for fuck's sake, he couldn't. He physically couldn't move. His body was frozen in place.

Slowly, he leaned in closer, heart pounding even louder as he pressed his ear to your bedroom door. He held perfectly still, catching his breath, trying not to make a single sound.

Another moan filled his ears, louder this time, needier, filled with unmistakable desire.

Your voice nearly made him choke.

"Fuck, Bucky—"

Holy. Fuck.

Bucky jerked backward from the door like he'd been burned, his chest falling rapidly as your desperate moan echoed in his ears, searing straight through him. His cock throbbed, painfully hardening against his sweatpants. He pressed the heel of his palm to it, groaning low in his throat, eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck," he muttered softly.

You were thinking about him.

You. The spoiled, reckless, bratty, infuriating goddess who drove him absolutely insane—lying in your bed, just a few feet away from him, fingers buried between your thighs, moaning his fucking name like he was your salvation.

You were moaning his fucking name.

And fuck if that didn't shatter every shred, every ounce of self-control he barely had left.

He let out a harsh pant, his metal arm flying out to grab the door handle. He froze for a second. He shouldn't—he knew he shouldn't—but goddamn it, he was beyond caring about what he should do.

Not when you were begging for him on the other side.

But his other mind—the darker part of him, the part that burned every time you smirked at him, rolled your eyes at him, teased and taunted him—that part wanted to kick the door down and claim you.

You wanted him. He could see it in your eyes. In the way your eyes found his in the midst of the battlefield. In the way your eyes lingered on his lips for a little bit too long during heated arguments.

And now? You were fucking touching yourself to the thought of him.

That drove him insane.

“Fuck it.”

Before he could second-guess himself, his hand gripped the handle. He pushed the door open and slipped inside quickly, jaw set, expression dark. He shut the door quietly behind him—click—and turned the lock without even looking.

His eyes were glued to you.

And what a fucking sight.

It only lasted a few seconds but god, did he enjoy them.

You were laying on your back, completely bare, your fingers playing with yourself. Your mouth parted sinfully as another moan escaped your lips, hips arching to meet the delicious touch of your fingers on your clit.

One look at you was enough for him. He was obsessed.

Your eyes flew open, pupils blown wide with shock and fury. You bolted upright, grabbing the sheet and dragging it over your bare chest, breath ragged, lips swollen from biting them, cheeks flushed.

"Barnes?! What the fuck—"

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, voice rough, closing the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps. Climbing right on top of you. “Was enjoying the show.”

Your nostrils flared as you clutched the sheet tighter, glaring at him. “Get the fuck out, Barnes.”

He laughed. Laughed. That low, condescending, cocky sound that made your blood boil and your thighs clench.

“Oh, now you wanna play shy, princess?” he mocked. “You didn’t sound so shy when you were moaning my name like a desperate little whore.”

Your jaw dropped, “I hate you.”

His smile grew wider.

"No, doll," he murmured, his metal hand reaching out to wrap around your throat just enough to tilt your chin up. "You want me, don't you? You've been dripping all over those pretty fingers for me."

You trembled beneath his touch, anger and desire making your body shake.

"If you wanted me so fucking badly, doll," he growled, leaning in until his breath ghosted across your lips, “all you had to do was ask nicely."

"Fuck you," you spat.

"You're about to, baby" he growled, before yanking the sheet away with one brutal pull.

God, you were perfect. Every inch of your skin flushed and glowing. Your legs slightly spread, your pussy slick and shiny with the aftermath of your own fingers—and the sound of you moaning his name still echoed in his brain like a goddamn curse.

He shouldn’t be here.

He hated you. He really fucking did.

But fuck, he couldn’t stop now.

Not when he had you right underneath him, bare and dripping, so ready for him.

His metal hand slid down your body, cool fingers tracing your sweat-slicked skin, and you shivered, glaring at him like you wanted to kill him.

He loved that look.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t want me, princess?” he mocked, caressing your nipple with his thumb and watching it pebble under his touch. “Still gonna act like your pussy wasn’t soaked from thinking about me? Gonna act like you weren't moaning my name?”

“Please, don't fucking flatter yourself," you snapped. “You caught me on a bad night. Could’ve been thinking about anyone. Maybe I just needed anyone to get me off.”

His head dropped with a low chuckle, and then he was between your thighs, spreading them with both hands, pulling you open for him like he had every goddamn right.

You gasped. “What the fuck are you—”

“Shh, princess, be a good little goddess,” he purred, eyes locked on yours as his breath ghosted over your dripping heat, “and shut the fuck up while I ruin that pretty pussy with my mouth.”

You were about to curse him again—but the second his tongue touched you, all that came out was a high, wrecked moan.

"Bucky—!”

He groaned—loud, filthy, like he’d just gotten a hit of something he’d been craving for years. His tongue was hot and relentless, dragging up your slit, flicking over your clit before sucking it hard enough to make your hips jump.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned against you, mouth messy and open. “Taste even better than I fucking dreamed.”

And oh, he had dreamed about this. So many times. Late at night, fist wrapped around his cock, imagining you beneath him like this—flushed, panting, wrecked. But nothing had prepared him for how sweet you actually tasted. How soaked you were. How your thighs trembled when he sucked a little harder, flicked his tongue a little faster.

He hated your guts. But god, he couldn’t bring himself to deny how much he wanted to bury his face between your thighs and be the one who would ruin you. Destroy you. Make you come so hard all over his face. Moan his name.

His moans were constant, vibrating into you as he devoured you like a starving man, tongue dipping into your tight hole before dragging back up to your clit again, again, again—

You moaned under him, fingers gripping his hair, pulling it like you owned him. And he let you. Fucking loved it.

“You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you panted, eyes fluttering. “Because you’re still an asshole. And I still fucking hate you”

He laughed. Right against your clit. It made you moan again.

He pulled back just enough to growl, looking up at you, lips soaked, chin glistening. Fuck, he looked so hot. “And you’re still a fucking brat.” His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles as he stared up at you. “But this pussy?” He leaned in and spat on it. Watched it drip down. You gasped and moaned. He spread you with two fingers, giving him full access to your clit. “This belongs to me now.”

You drop your head back with a loud moan.

“Still wanna pretend you don’t fucking need me? Wanna pretend you don’t fucking want me so bad? “he murmured, thumbing your clit again, rubbing tight circles as he licked into you like he was starving. “You were moaning my name, baby. Fucking crying for it.”

He was fucking starving. Starving for you. Starving for your body. And if he died right now, he’d die happily knowing your pussy was his last meal.

“Because you drive me insane,” you gasped, back arching, grinding your hips involuntarily against his face. “Not because I want you.”

“Bullshit.”

He growled it right against you, then sucked your clit into his mouth—hard.

You screamed.

He went back down—groaning deep, tongue working harder now, lips wrapped around your clit as he sucked and moaned into you like it was his only purpose on this planet.

He was addicted.

He moaned louder—grinding into the mattress beneath him, needing the friction. He was hard. So fucking hard just from eating you out. It was sick how much he was getting off on this.

If he kept eating you out like this he was sure he’d cum right there. You let out a whimper as he bit your clit softly. Enough for you to feel it but not enough to hurt you.

“That’s it,” he moaned, “God, you sound so fucking hot. So much attitude until you’re leaking all over my fucking tongue. Bet ya' touch yourself every night thinking 'bout me choking you and fucking you into your bed until you're nothing but a whimpering mess. That's what you want, isn't it, princess? You want my cock to destroy you. To fuck you hard."

You whimpered in response—because he was right.

And he fucking knew it.

And you hated that he knew it.

“Fuck, you’re shaking already,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to spit on your cunt again, then licked it up like it was honey. “You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna drench my face like a good little whore?”

You let out a loud moan.

He grinned.

“What was that, baby?" he drawled, fingers spreading you open for his tongue. "You were so cocky earlier. So fucking loud. What happened to that bratty little mouth?”

“Still here, asshole,” you snapped breathlessly, lips curling into a smirk even as your thighs trembled. “You’re just too pussy-drunk to realize I’m still winning.”

He dragged his mouth away from you with a wet filthy sound, staring up at you with wild eyes.

“Oh, is that right, baby?” he growled, his voice darker than you'd ever heard it. “Still think this is a fucking game?”

He stood.

No warning—just grabbed your thighs, strong hands locking around your hips as he yanked you down the bed like you weighed nothing. Your ass hit the edge of the mattress, legs dangling, body wide open beneath him.

He towered over you, jaw clenched, eyes black with lust.

Then his hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants.

He shoved his sweats down and—

Fuck.

You gasped.

His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, veiny, leaking. It slapped against his lower abdomen with a wet sound, and your mouth actually fell open.

“Oh, that shut you up real fast,” he sneered, stroking himself lazily, fist pumping over the thick shaft as he stared at your pussy like it owed him something. Like he owned it. “What happened to all that attitude, huh? Still winning, princess?”

Your jaw tightened. You didn’t respond—but your thighs pressed together just barely. He saw it and the bastard smirked.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

He reached down, grabbed your thighs and pulled them open, exposing you again to his hungry stare.

“Look at that, baby. So fucking pretty,” he muttered. “Soaked for me. Fucking glistening. And you still want to pretend this doesn’t drive you fucking wild?”

You glared up at him, breath ragged.

“I’d rather die than beg you, asshole,” you spat, venom laced through every word. “You think that cock’s special? I’ve fucking seen better.”

That pulled a low, growling laugh from him—deep in his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” he snarled, climbing over you, his cock dragging over your inner thigh. “Then look at it, baby.”

He grabbed your chin with his metal arm and forced your gaze downward.

"Look. At. It." He hissed. "Fucking look at the cock that's gonna wreck your bratty little cunt. The one you're gonna cum so hard on, you won't even remember your own name. The one you're gonna beg for."

He pressed the tip to your entrance and pulled back. Again. And again. And again.

You whimpered before you could even stop yourself.

“Fucking knew it,” he sneered, a smug dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Your mouth says ‘no,’ but this pussy?” He slapped the head against your clit and watched you twitch. “She's already begging.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, voice shaking, lip curled in fury. “You’re so fucking—”

He cut you off with a growl, grabbing your jaw again—hard—and shoving two metal fingers deep into your pussy without warning.

You screamed, the cold making your back arch as your walls clamped around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re squeezing my fingers like you need them, princess.”

"Shut up," you groaned.

He chuckled, eyes dropping to your chest as he slowly leaned down, tongue darting out to lick a long, wet stripe across your nipple.

You gasped, back arching, as his fingers pumped into you.

“Tell me to stop.”

His fingers curled deep, pressing against that perfect spot inside you as his mouth wrapped around your nipple—sucking hard. He moaned against your nipple, his eyes closing shut as he devoured it. God, he was addicted.

"Say it," he rasped, tongue still working torturously against your hardened bud. "Say the word, and I'll walk out that door and leave you right here, soaking and empty. We'll forget this ever happened just say the word. Tell me to stop."

You choked on a moan.

Then—a third finger.

“Fuck—Bucky!” you cried out, back arching off the bed, thighs shaking.

His eyes snapped open, still sucking your tit, and they locked with yours. You were panting, staring down at him like you could burn him alive.

He just smiled, teeth biting softly on your skin.

Motherfucker.

“Yes, baby?” he purred, tongue swirling your nipple, lips wrapped around it as he sucked and pulled, his fingers still working inside you. His eyes locked with yours.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

That little whimper of yours shattered whatever restraint he had left.

He growled, deep and guttural, pulling his fingers from your soaked cunt and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and moaning. You whimpered at the loss, but he was already lining his cock up, his tip pressing hot and hard against your dripping core.

“Oh, I’m not fucking stopping, baby,” he snarled, voice low and feral. “You asked for it, now you’re gonna take every inch like a good little slut.”

And then he slammed into you.

You screamed—choked and high-pitched, body jolting as his cock filled you deep, thick and unforgiving, stretching you open in one hard thrust.

“F-fuck—!”

“Goddamn,” he moaned, head dropping to your shoulder as he was fully inside you, hips grinding into you. “Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever had—shit, baby—it's like you were made for me.”

You reached up, clutching his hard back, fingernails digging into his delicious muscles.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust yourself to his size. He couldn’t. He was desperate.

He started ramming into you.

Hard. Brutal. Each thrust punched a ragged moan from your lungs, his balls slapping against your skin. His cock was deep, dragging along every sensitive nerve ending, forcing pleasure into you.

"You hear that, princess?" he growled, his metal hand grabbing your thigh and pushing it higher, spreading you wider. His cock hitting a spot far deeper inside you, making your eyes roll back. "That's the sound of your pretty wet pussy sucking me entirely. Fuck! Sounds so hot."

You were moaning nonstop now, his name falling from your lips between gasps and groans.

“Bucky—Bucky—f-fuck—oh my God—yes!”

He groaned, loud and proud, fucking into you harder. Faster.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, his dog tag slapping against your chin with every hard thrust. "Say my name. Louder. Let the whole fucking compound know who's fucking you so damn good."

You sobbed, back arching, legs locking tight around his waist, your hips meeting his every brutal thrust like your life depended on it. His cock hit deep, again and again, every slam stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Y-you’re such a fucking bitch—ah—”

His hand snapped around your throat, just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

“Say that again, you fucking brat,” he growled in your ear. "Call me a bitch one more time while you're fucking soaking my cock. Fucking do it."

He slammed into you harder, dragging a scream from your throat as your pussy clenched around him

“Go on, princess. Open that pretty mouth of yours. Say it again.”

You tried. God, you really fucking tried. Tried to stay defiant. Tried to curse at him. But all that came out was a high, broken moan.

“Fuck—Bucky yes!”

His smile was pure sin.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He growled, driving his cock even deeper, slamming into your soaked pussy with a rhythm that felt unholy.

Fuck Super Soldiers and their fucking stamina

Each thrust made your vision blur, your moans sharper, needier.

Your hands flew to his neck—nails raking down the sides, dragging red lines across his skin as your head fell back in ecstasy.

"Fuck—yes!—fuck you!” you whimpered, tears threatening to spill. "You motherfucker—you're so fucking full of yourself, Bucky Barnes."

He let out a dark chuckle. "Other way 'round, princess. You're so fucking full of me," he leaned down, face inches from yours as he sneered, "you're nothin' but a cockdrunk little brat now, aren't you?"

You opened your mouth to snap back, but he grabbed your chin hard and crashed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was brutal, messy, deep. Teeth clashing, tongues fighting. He groaned and moaned against your lips, and you opened your mouth further, letting his tongue explore its way inside. You bit his bottom lip hard until you tasted copper, and he pulled back with a snarl.

His hand snapped across your cheek. Hard but not hard enough to hurt you.

The slap echoed, followed by a loud moan that ruptured through your chest.

His eyes widened.

"Who would've fucking thought? Pretty little Asgardian princess loves getting slapped in the face and fucked like a slut."

Your hand was still around his throat—gripping him tight—and your glare was lethal through the tears.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

His hand shot up to mirror yours—gripping your throat in return.

His cock didn’t stop. The thrusts stayed hard. Relentless. Deep.

“Am I, princess?” he rasped. “You fucking hate me so much, don’t you?”

“Yes!—Fuck yes—I fucking hate your guts, Barnes”

He slammed into you again, then grabbed your chin tighter and forced your eyes downward.

“But look at you, baby. Look good your pussy is taking me," your eyes closed shut, a loud moan erupting from your chest. "Open your eyes baby," you obeyed, your gaze landing on how good his cock was driving into you, relentlessly, so hard it made you tremble. The wet sounds were so filthy, but you loved it. "Good girl, there you go. Look how fucking deep you're taking me. Look how good this asshole is fucking you."

He lifted your chin up once again, making you look at him directly in the eyes.

"Open that pretty little mouth of yours."

You stared at him, didn't move. He narrowed his eyes and growled.

"Open your fucking mouth."

He grabbed your jaw harder and slammed into you with such brutal force your lips parted, a moan escaping before you could stop it.

And then—he spat in your mouth.

Right on your tongue.

"Swallow”

You did. And when your throat moved, swallowing his spit, your eyes lifted back to his. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips.

He groaned—deep—his head falling forward, his fingers curling around your throat.

“Good girl.”

You moaned in response.

"Tell me what you want, princess," Bucky panted, his forehead pressed to yours as his hips slowed just enough to make you whimper. Your nails dragged down his chest, leaving red, angry lines. His breath stuttered. "I wanna make you cum so hard—fuck!"

He moaned as your fingers raked lower, palms flat, feeling every hard ridge of his muscles.

"God, baby, yes—Fuck! Do that again," he begged, his voice dipping to a growl as you scraped over his pecs again, your nails biting into his skin like you wanted to own him. Like you wanted to mark him. For him to remember who he belonged to. "Fuck—please, tell me what you need, just say it. I'll give you anything"

That's when you moved.

You shoved at his chest, hard, slid from underneath him and straddled his lap while grabbing his cock and sinking back down onto him in one filthy, wet motion that made you both cry out.

His head hit the pillow.

“Jesus Christ—baby—holy fuck!” he moaned, voice cracking, hips bucking up involuntarily as he felt you clenching around him. “Fuck yes, baby—ride that cock. Use me. Fucking take it. I’m all yours—oh shit!”

Your hands braced against his hard chest as you started to move—grinding, rolling, your hips working his cock deeper with every bounce.

“God, yes!” Bucky moaned, eyes glued to your bouncing tits as they moved with every slap of skin. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, voice ragged. “There she is. That’s it, baby—just like that.”

His hands flew to your waist, holding on for dear life as you bounced up and down.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot—”

"Mmhm," you gasped, grinding down hard on his cock. "You like that, soldier? Having me bounce on your cock?"

His head dropped back with a wrecked whimper.

“Yes—fuck, princess, you’re so hot—so fucking perfect—bouncing on my cock like a good little slut!"

You smirked, chest heaving, hands sliding down his abs.

"You feel so fucking good inside me, Bucky," you moaned. "Fuck! I fucking hate how good your cock feels."

His moan punched out of him like a sob. His hands moved to your tits, squeezing them hard, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they ached. He watched every twitch, every bounce, completely obsessed.

“Fucking say it again,” he begged. “Tell me how good my cock feels. Tell me how much you hate loving it.”

"Motherfucker," you groaned, your hips grinding over him, your clit dragging against his skin with every delicious roll of your body. "I fucking hate how much I love having you inside me."

"I fucking love it, princess," he cried, a desperate growl ripping from his throat. "Love being under you, baby—yours. This cock is yours. Do whatever you want with it—just don’t fucking stop—”

You whimpered, grinding down harder, your nails clawing at his chest.

"Fuck—fuck you—fucking hate you," you moaned. "Oh god, I'm gonna come—I can't!"

His hands flew to your hips, gripping hard, slamming you down onto him over and over as he started bucking up into you.

"No, princess," he growled, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. "You can, and you fucking will. You wanted it so bad—now you fucking take it."

He started thrusting up into you with a force so brutal that it made you see stars. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips—you were pretty sure he'd leave bruises and marks, but you didn't care. It felt so fucking good.

“Fuck—Bucky—wait! I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you fucking stop, baby,” he growled, dragging you down harder with each thrust, his voice shaking. You moved with him, bouncing up and down, meeting his thrusts. You felt him so deep it made your legs tremble. “There you go—such a good fucking girl riding my cock. Come on, baby—keep going.”

You sobbed, overstimulated and completely ruined, your hips still moving because you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. His cock dragged over every nerve, every spot that made you fall apart.

“Say my name, baby,” he moaned, voice breaking. “Fuck, yes—say it! Who’s fucking you, huh? Say it. Fucking say it!”

“BUCKY!” you screamed, head falling back as the orgasm slammed into you. “FUCK—BUCKY—”

Your pussy clamped down so hard it knocked the breath out of both of you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn't. The overstimulation made you dizzy. Even as you shook. Even as your legs gave out. Even as your moans became cries. You didn't stop.

You kept fucking riding him—desperate, moaning, mouth open, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He was gone. Far gone. Obsessed. Completely feral and at your mercy.

“I know you can give me one more,” he growled, voice raw, completely unhinged. “Come on, princess—keep riding that dick. Fuck—you’re perfect, baby, so fucking perfect—”

You groaned, desperately, your legs trembling uncontrollably. "You're gonna come inside me like a good little soldier, aren't you? Gonna fill me up real good while I fuck you. You want that, Bucky?"

“F-fuck—yes—yes, baby, pl-please—” he sobbed, eyes squeezing shut, his head dropping back, lips parting.

And then he screamed, his eyes fluttered open locking with yours right as he came.

“OH FUCK—YES!”

He came deep, cock twitching violently as he spilled inside you, his moan wrecked, loud and filthy, vibrating straight through your body.

You felt it—every hot pulse of cum flooding right through you, dripping down your thighs as you kept riding him.

He didn’t stop either—his hands grabbed your hips and slammed you down again, and again, even as he came, desperate to keep the connection, to feel all of it.

"Jesus—fuck yes—you’re milking my cock fucking dry, baby!" he cried, his body twitching under yours.

Your entire body ached. Your thighs were shaking. Your pussy was sore and stuffed full—but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Because you hated him.

And because you needed him.

"You're really fucking lucky your dick's good, Barnes," you hissed, voice cracking with a moan as you grinded against him softly. "Because I still hate you."

He barked out a breathless raspy laugh, grabbing your ass.

"Right back at you, princess. You're the most insufferable fucking brat I've ever met—and the best fuck of my goddamn life.”

You collapsed fully on top of his chest, head tucked into his neck, breathing hard.

He sighed, his big hands resting on your ass and your lower back.

"You're gonna be the death of me, doll."

You let out a breathless chuckle, lips brushing his throat. Then your head lifted looking down at him.

"No, pretty boy," you murmured. "That's gonna be my brother when he finds out."

His grin stretched wide across his flushed face.

God, he looked so beautiful like this.

His hand resting on your back traveled down to grip your ass, possessively.

"If, baby." He kissed you, rough, deep, fucking filthy. Then he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips:

"If he finds out."

And then the bastard winked.

Oh, yeah. You two were absolutely fucked.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug <3

[houseofaegon]

i need bucky like i need air to live

the spaces between us [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: A storm brews between you and Bucky—one fueled by fear, frustration, and the ghosts of your pasts. As tensions reach their breaking point, you seek solace in the one person who understands what it means to have your agency stripped away. But while you and Yelena prepare for the battle ahead, Bucky and his team are setting fire to the past—unaware that you’re walking straight into its ashes.

Word Count: 5000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content, employer x employee, p in v, office sex 2.0!!!, this is angst city and i am they mayor - sorry in advance :), domestic bucky <3, jealous bucky <333, posessive bucky <333333

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

You woke up to the sound of something sizzling. Then popping. Then—

“Shit.”

You cracked your eyes open and realised Bucky wasn’t in bed. The space beside you was still warm, but the man himself was gone—and judging by the scent of charred batter wafting into the bedroom, he’s on a one-man mission to burn down the kitchen.

You grabbed the first thing in reach—one of his old, gray shirts with frayed sleeves and a faint coffee stain on the hem—and slipped it over your body. It hung off you like a dress, swallowing your frame in warmth and his scent, a mix of cedarwood, gunmetal, and syrupy sleep.

Padding barefoot down the hall, you found him shirtless at the stove, his hair still messy from sleep. He held a spatula in one hand and stared down at a very, very burnt pancake.

He didn't notice you at first. You leaned against the doorway and folded your arms, biting back a laugh. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to summon the fire department.”

Bucky turned, startled—and then grins, sheepish and boyish, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “This was not how it was supposed to go.”

You raised a brow and walk into the kitchen. “Were you trying to surprise me with breakfast?”

“I was,” he muttered, dumping the blackened pancake into the trash. “You ruined the surprise by waking up early.”

You smirked and came to stand beside him. “You ruined the surprise by setting off every smoke alarm in the building.”

He laughed, low and raspy, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Let me help.”

The next ten minutes were a blur of flour-covered hands and stolen kisses. You took over the stove while Bucky insisted on cutting the strawberries “perfectly,” which turned into him stealing half of them before they even made it to the plate. He sneaked his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, humming along to some old Sinatra song playing softly in the background.

“Bucky, no—” You giggled, ducking as flour puffed into the air when he slammed the bag down a little too hard.

He huffed, frowning at the white dust covering his hands. “I don’t remember pancakes bein’ this damn complicated.”

You grinned, shaking your head as you swiped some flour from his cheek. “You’ve fought intergalactic warlords, but pancakes are your downfall?”

His eyes narrowed, and before you could react, he smudged flour across your nose.

You gasped. “James Buchanan Barnes—”

Bucky smirked. “Somethin’ on your face, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Before you could retaliate, he trapped you against the counter, pressing a quick, flour-dusted kiss to your lips.

You melted into it for a second before groaning. “Okay, okay, truce. Let’s just eat before we both look like ghosts.”

You settle at the kitchen table with your stack of uneven but edible pancakes. Bucky loaded his with strawberries and a very generous pour of syrup before nudging his knee against yours beneath the table.

“I like this,” you murmur. “Just… you and me. Peace and pancakes.”

“I could get used to this,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You smile and tilt your head, catching his lips in a slow, lingering kiss before setting the last pancake on a plate.

A mischievous thought struck you, and you grabbed your phone. “You know what you need?” You asked with a mouthful of pancake.

He looked up warily, mid-bite. “…A nap?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. An Instagram.”

Bucky groaned immediately, setting his fork down. “Oh, hell no.”

You pouted. “Come on! You’re running for president, Buck. You need social media.”

“I don’t need social media. I need coffee. And maybe a whiskey.”

You sighed dramatically, placing your chin in your hand. “Firstly, it’s barely ten in the morning. No whiskey. Secondly, imagine how many people would love seeing you post. They love you, Bucky.”

He scoffed, but you could see the way his ears tinged pink. “No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do. And if you don’t believe me, we’re making an account right now.”

Bucky groaned as you slid your phone toward him. “This feels like a trap.”

“It’s a campaign strategy,” you corrected, opening the Instagram app. “Here, type in a username.”

Bucky eyed the screen like it was a foreign object. “How do I—”

You laughed. “Just type your name.”

“…Just my name?”

“Well, obviously not just ‘Bucky.’ It’s taken.”

“Who the hell else is callin’ themselves Bucky?”

You snorted. “I don’t know. Maybe the guy who owned your apartment before you.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath, but he took the phone, typing in @jamesbarnesofficial.

“See?” you said encouragingly. “You’re already a pro.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Now what?”

You took the phone back. “Now we take your first post.”

Bucky raised a brow. “What kinda post?”

“A selfie.”

Bucky groaned. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

You pouted, scooting closer. “Please, Buck? Just one.”

He sighed, shaking his head, but there was amusement in his eyes. “…Fine.”

You grinned, shifting so you were right beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Okay, look at the camera.”

Bucky hesitated, then gave a small smirk as you snapped the photo.

Looking at it, you had to admit—he looked good. Blue eyes soft, lips slightly curved, his metal arm catching the morning light. You, beside him, looked equally lovestruck.

“Perfect,” you said happily. “Now, caption ideas…”

Bucky stared at the screen, frowning. “People really care about captions?”

You laughed. “Of course they do! What about something presidential? Like ‘A new chapter begins’?”

Bucky made a face. “Cheesy.”

You snorted. “Fine, what do you wanna say?”

He thought for a second, then typed: Good morning.

“…That’s it?” you asked, blinking.

“Yep.”

You laughed. “Okay, Grandpa. Hitting ‘post’ now.”

The moment the photo was up, your notifications exploded. Likes, comments, shares—it was immediate.

Bucky’s brows lifted. “That’s normal?”

You nodded, scrolling through the replies. “‘MY PRESIDENT!’ ‘The hottest man in America.’ ‘Bucky Barnes world domination when?’”

Bucky flushed slightly, clearing his throat. “People are crazy.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him. “Told you they love you.”

Bucky scrolled through the comments, the screen of his iPhone flashing as each one popped through. By the second, his Instagram was inundated with messages. “Hey, look, this person said good morning back,” Bucky smiled proudly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, cutting some more fruit to go with the pancakes. “What’s their name?”

Bucky squinted as he read the username. “BuckyIsDaddy6969.” He said flatly.

You let out a chortle. “Oh, agreed.” You grinned. Bucky stood up, collecting the plates to clear the table. 

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Only one person’s opinion matters to me.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest.

Then, like clockwork, the morning news kicked in from the living room. And just like that, the warmth of the morning was replaced with something much, much colder.

Bucky barely registered it at first—until the words Ethan Halloway echo through the safehouse.

He stiffened.

You glanced at the screen. The anchor was mid-sentence, voice polished and rehearsed. Behind her was a photo of Ethan standing in front of a podium, American flag rippling behind him.

“…in a stunning announcement early this morning, Ethan Halloway has declared his candidacy for President of the United States. The philanthropist and former CEO promises a campaign focused on renewal, unity, and transparency—”

“Bullshit,” Bucky muttered.

You frowned, setting your fork down and sinking back into your chair. “Did you know he was planning this?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “I knew he was a snake. Didn’t think he’d be this bold.”

Onscreen, Ethan smiled, waving to a crowd of supporters. He looked polished, confident, practiced—like the camera’s been his friend for years.

You watch Bucky’s face. His eyes darken, expression unreadable, that Winter Soldier edge flickering beneath the surface.

“I never liked him,” Bucky said, voice low. “Something about him… always felt off. Like he knew too much. Watched too closely.”

You raised a brow. “You mean he looked at me.”

Bucky shot you a look. “He stared at you.”

You laughed into your coffee. “You were jealous.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans in close, metal fingers tracing down your thigh beneath the table. “Can you blame me?”

You met his gaze, heart fluttering at the intensity there. “You never had to be jealous, Buck.”

“I know,” he said softly, brushing your hair from your face. “But I also know men like him. The kind that smile with teeth but always want what isn’t theirs.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek. “I’m not something to be taken.”

He kissed you then—slow but possessive, like he needs you to feel every part of what he can’t say out loud. You melted into him, anchoring yourself in his warmth.

When he pulled back, you pressed your forehead against his. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

His eyes softened. “Together.”

The news faded into background noise as you clear the plates and rinse off sticky hands. But even as he stole another kiss behind the sink, you can see it on his face—he’s already planning the next move. And so are you.

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The ride to Bucky’s office was quiet, but not tense. It was your first day out of the safehouse. You rested your head against the window while Bucky tapped the steering wheel in rhythm to some classic Marvin Gaye tune humming low on the radio. There was thoughtful look in his eye—he’s planning, thinking, already one step ahead. You knew that look. And you also knew it’s partially hiding the anxiety knotted beneath the surface.

You reached across the centre console, and laced your fingers with his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. You didn’t need to say anything. Neither did he. Sometimes, silence between you says more than words ever could.

When you stepped inside his office, you’re hit with the scent of cedarwood, old books, and ink—his scent, the one that clung to his clothes, to your skin, to the back of your throat when he kisses you deep. The rich mahogany desk stood like a centrepiece at the room’s heart, polished and dignified, as out of place in modern politics as Bucky himself sometimes feels.

He tossed his jacket over the back of the leather couch and watched as you walked in, eyes lingering on your legs peeking out beneath his shirt—because yes, you wore the same one from this morning, claiming, “It’s comfy,” even though you knew exactly what it did to him.

He leaned against the door, watching you with that look. The one that strips you bare without touching you.

He’s on you in three long strides, grabbing your waist and backing you into the desk. His hands find your thighs, lifting you easily until you’re perched right where it all started.

The rich mahogany of the desk felt smooth beneath your fingertips, as Bucky stood between your parted thighs. His touch was firm, his lips insistent, like he was trying to ground himself in you, to drown in the feel of you before the weight of the world came crashing back down.

“Remember our first time? Here, in the office? It was a late night and I was trying to be professional,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, your neck. “You were wearing those red heels…”

You laughed breathlessly. “You were flustered.”

“I was wrecked.” He nipped at your earlobe. “You had no idea what you were doing to me.”

“Oh, I did,” you whispered, threading your fingers into his hair.

His mouth crashed into yours with hunger and heat, his hands sliding up your thighs, beneath the hem of your shirt. You gasped as his metal hand grips the edge of the desk, bracing himself, while his other hand presses against the small of your back, arching you into him.

“I’ve been thinking about this all damn morning,” he growled against your lips. “Pancakes and politics be damned—this is where I want you.”

He kissed you deeply, his hands spreading over your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself. The air between you crackled with something raw, something urgent—like he needed this, like he needed you, like there was no room for hesitation.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough.

Your breath hitched as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Oh?”

His smirk was dangerous, his blue eyes dark with something primal. “Every damn time I sit at this desk.”

The confession sent a thrill through you. Your heart pounded as he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“You bent over it—” His voice was gravel, full of sinful promise. “—spread out for me, taking everything I give you.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “Bucky—”

“Yeah, baby?” He dragged his mouth down your throat, hands slipping beneath your shirt, palms hot against your bare skin.

You swallowed hard, barely able to think with the way he was touching you. “You gonna stop talking about it and do something, or—”

He cut you off with a growl, yanking your shirt over your head in one fluid motion. His mouth was on you instantly, warm and wet and hungry, tracing a path of open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin as you arched into him.

The cold air against your exposed skin made you shiver, but the heat radiating from him burned hotter. His hands roamed freely, kneading, squeezing, memorizing.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, dragging his lips down your stomach. “You know that?”

You grinned, threading your fingers through his hair. “Good.”

Bucky let out a breathless chuckle before gripping your hips, pulling you closer. His belt clinked as he unbuckled it, the anticipation making your pulse skyrocket.

His lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, slower, as if savoring the moment. His forehead rested against yours as he guided himself to your entrance, his breath warm against your mouth.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

You did.

And as he pushed inside, stretching you inch by inch, the world outside the office faded into nothing.

Your gasp mingled with his low groan, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

“Jesus, you feel perfect,” he rasped, pressing his lips to your jaw.

He started slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of you. The desk creaked beneath you, the rich wood warm against your back as he moved, each thrust pushing you further into the surface.

Your nails dragged down his back, and he groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “Fuck, baby.”

You moaned as he snapped his hips, deep and controlled, his pace toeing the line between sensual and desperate. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless plea, and it only spurred him on.

Bucky lifted one of your legs, hooking it around his waist, sinking deeper, hitting a spot that had you clenching around him.

His mouth found yours again, swallowing your cries as he chased both your releases, the rhythm between you relentless and intoxicating.

He was losing himself in you—right there, on the desk where he made decisions that changed the world.

And right now, the only decision that mattered was this.

Because if the world outside this office was going to war against the two of you, then Bucky Barnes was damn sure going to claim you as his first.

And he did. Over and over again.

The only sound in the office was the slowing rhythm of your breaths, tangled together, heavy with the remnants of what just happened.

Bucky didn’t move right away. He kept you pinned to the desk, his forehead resting against yours, as if the moment he pulled away, the world would come crashing back in.

His hands, still gripping your waist, loosened slightly, smoothing over your skin, tracing gentle circles against your hips. His lips ghosted over your cheek, your jaw, then finally your lips—soft, lingering kisses that made you shiver.

“You okay?” His voice was low, raspy, still thick with the weight of it all.

You nodded, exhaling shakily, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. “Yeah. More than okay.”

His lips quirked, pressing another kiss to your forehead before finally pulling back, his hands still resting on either side of your hips. The absence of his warmth made you whimper slightly, and he chuckled.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart,” he teased, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You smirked, stretching out on the desk, utterly satisfied, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks. “You’re the one who said you think about this every time you sit at this desk.”

Bucky scoffed, reaching for his discarded shirt on the floor and tossing it over you.

He leaned down, his nose nudging yours, lips brushing in a whisper of a kiss. “You—laid out right here, looking like a fucking dream—” He groaned against your skin. “I swear to God, you’re gonna ruin me.”

You grinned, pulling him down for another slow, lazy kiss, letting him savour you.

For a few perfect moments, there was no Ethan, no election, no Hydra—just the two of you tangled together in this stolen moment.

Bucky’s fingers traced idle patterns over your bare thigh, his other hand bracing against the desk as he just looked at you, drinking you in.

A quiet sigh left your lips, your fingers weaving through his hair, absentmindedly playing with the strands. “We’ll figure this out, you know.”

He hummed, skeptical but appreciative. “Ethan running against me isn’t just about politics. You know that, right?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You never trusted him.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly. “Damn right I didn’t.”

You smirked. “You were just jealous.”

His eyes darkened, and in a second, he had you pinned beneath him again, his lips brushing over your ear. “Can you blame me?”

A shiver ran through you as his mouth moved to your throat, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses against your pulse. “Bucky—”

“I hate how close he got to you.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “Hate that he thought he had a chance.”

You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair. “He never did.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand coming up to cup your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, blue eyes searching yours like he needed to hear it again.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, firm but reverent. “Yeah?”

You smiled softly, tilting your head into his touch. “Yeah, Buck. I’m yours.”

For a moment, he just looked at you—like he wanted to memorize this exact moment. Then he kissed you, slow and deep, like he was sealing a promise neither of you dared to speak aloud.

The world outside could wait.

Because right now, nothing else mattered but this.

Until—

Knock, knock.

“Barnes! Open the damn door!”

Bucky groaned into your mouth, his forehead dropping against yours. “Are you fucking kidding me.”

You burst out laughing, pushing at his chest. “You should probably get that.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t move, his lips grazing yours one last time.

“I swear to God, if this isn’t important—”

The knocking got louder, followed by Sam’s unmistakable voice.

“Don’t make me break this door down, man. I got the shield with me!”

Bucky let out a defeated groan, resting his hands on either side of you before pulling away. He stood, grabbing his shirt off the floor, but not before shooting you a lingering, heated glance that promised this wasn’t over.

“You owe me,” he muttered, making you laugh.

You sat up, adjusting his oversized shirt over your bare skin as he finally moved to open the door—

And the world came rushing back in.

Bucky tensed immediately, eyes cutting toward the door. You adjusted your shirt and smoothed your hair as he crossed the room.

When he opened it, Sam Wilson stepped inside like a man on a mission, followed by Joaquin Torres, who gave you a sheepish wave.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam said, eyes flicking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. “But we’ve got intel. The kind that can’t wait.”

Bucky leaned against the edge of the desk, posture straightening. “What is it?”

Sam didn’t waste time. “President Ross has been transported to The Raft. Isolated. Banner’s serum’s stabilizing his gamma sickness, but he’s off the grid for now—maximum security.”

“Good,” Bucky muttered. “Means he’s out of the way.”

You watched quietly, pulse still steadying from earlier, but the energy in the room had shifted. Something tense hung in the air, and it only thickened when Joaquin stepped forward.

“We’ve got a plan,” he said. “To burn Hydra’s Russia base to the ground. Wipe it off the map.”

Your stomach dropped.

Bucky tilted his head. “You’re sure it’s time?”

Sam nodded. “We’ve got the layout, the personnel counts, the weak points. If we move fast, we can dismantle it before Hydra regroups. We’re talking tonight.”

You didn’t speak at first. You just stared at the floor.

Bucky nodded. “Okay, I can be there.” 

Your gaze snapped up to your boyfriend and you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bucky… can we talk about this first?” You asked in a hushed tone. Bucky said nothing, he just gave you one of those stoic, empty looks, his ocean blue eyes edging for you to continue. So you did. Softly, you said, “I don’t think we should destroy it yet.”

Silence filled the room.

Bucky turned to you, brows pinching together. “What?”

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “I—I need to know what happened to me there, Buck. I need to remember.”

“What are you suggesting?” Bucky shared a glance with Sam and Joaquin, who looked equally as perplexed.

“I can go and investigate myself. I know the room they kept me in, I can find answers… I just need a little time.” You explained, your voice trailing away. Bucky didn’t know it yet, but you had learned to fight for this very reason; you had been training with Yelena for this very moment. Now was your chance. It had to be now. You couldn’t let the guys destroy the one thing that would give you the closure you needed to heal and move on. 

Bucky let out an exhale. “It’s not safe—”

You felt a sting in your chest. “You don’t get to decide that,” you cut in before he could finish, voice rising before you could stop it. “You don’t get to erase it like it never happened just because it’s easier for you.”

His expression shifted. From concern to hurt. Then anger. And you felt your heart ache when you knew what was coming. “You think this is easy for me?” he snapped. “You think I don’t wake up every night wondering what they did to you in that hellhole? You don’t even remember yourself!”

“Then why won’t you let me go back?” You stepped forward now, shaking, feeling the confrontation bubble inside of you. “You, of all people, you should understand why I need this.”

His jaw clenched. “And why is that?” He beckoned.

“Because— you are the Winter Soldier.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips.

The colour drained out of Bucky’s face. 

“Were— you were the Winter Soldier,” you corrected yourself but your voice was merely above a whisper. The damage had already been done.

“So that’s who you see me as?” Bucky asked, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. He took a step back from you, a frown set deep in his face. The look of betrayal. 

“No—Bucky, I misspoke. I just—” Your voice cracked. “I’m scared. I don’t know what they did to me. There are pieces missing. Yelena has noticed things about me and I’m afraid something is wrong. It’s like I’m changing. And I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d shut me down, just like you are doing right now.”

Bucky ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“That’s not protection, Bucky. That’s control.”

“I’m not trying to control you—”

“But that’s what it feels like!” You didn’t care that Sam and Joaquin were still standing there. “You don’t listen. You don’t ask what I want. You just decide.”

His voice dropped to a low growl. “Because what you want might get you killed.”

“Then let it be my choice.”

The silence that followed was thunderous. No one moved. No one breathed.

Joaquin shifted uncomfortably. Sam stepped forward. “Maybe we should give them a minute—”

Bucky didn’t even look at them. He was still staring at you like you’d just torn something out of his chest.

When the door clicked shut behind them, you finally turned away, blinking hard.

“Don’t walk away,” Bucky said behind you.

You faced him with fire in your chest. “Then listen to me. You’re not the only one with trauma, Bucky. You’re not the only one who had to survive something.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, to take it back, to say anything else—but he didn’t.

You didn’t wait.

You stormed past him, tears spilling hot and fast, and slammed the door behind you as the skies outside opened up with rain. The sound of it swallowed your sobs as you ran through the street, heart aching, chest heaving.

You didn’t see Bucky until he burst into the corridor, following after you.

“Wait!” he shouted, half-soaked already. But before he could chase you, Sam grabbed his arm.

“Give her space, Buck.”

Bucky looked like he might explode from it. “She’s—she’s out there in the rain, I can’t just—”

“She’s hurting,” Sam said firmly. “And you’ve gotta let her breathe.”

Bucky stood there for a long second, fists clenched, chest heaving.

But he didn’t move.

And you didn’t stop running.

You didn’t remember how you got to Yelena’s place.

The rain had soaked through every layer of your clothes, your shoes squelched with every step, and your fingers trembled as you fumbled with the keypad outside her apartment door. By some miracle, you’d remembered the code she always grumbled about changing but never did.

The door creaked open before you could knock.

Yelena stood there, eyes narrowing at the sight of you — dripping wet, shaking, eyes red from crying. She didn’t say a word. Just stepped aside, letting you in.

You left puddles across her hardwood floors, your coat peeling off with a sickening wet slap. Your arms wrapped around yourself, more to hold yourself together than to stay warm.

“I was wondering when you’d come knocking,” she said quietly, moving to grab a towel from the linen closet.

You sank onto her couch, chest still rising and falling too fast. You didn’t know where to begin. The fight replayed over and over again in your head, Bucky’s voice, your own, the look in his eyes—like you’d broken something sacred.

Yelena tossed the towel at you, then walked into the kitchen. You heard cabinets opening, the clink of mugs, the comforting hum of her old kettle. A few moments later, she returned with a steaming cup of tea and a dry blanket. She didn’t press you. Didn’t interrogate. She just sat beside you and let the silence fill the room.

“I said some horrible things,” you mumbled, throat raw. “To Bucky.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just sipped her tea.

“I told him he didn’t understand,” you continued, your voice cracking. “That he was trying to control me. I stormed out.”

Yelena exhaled softly, setting her cup down. “You’re allowed to want answers.”

You turned your head toward her. “He was trying to protect me.”

“Protecting you and deciding for you are not the same thing,” she said, her accent thick but even. “Believe me. I know what it’s like to have people make decisions for your body without your consent.”

You flinched. That hit a little too close to home.

“Red Room?” you asked quietly.

Yelena nodded, eyes darkening. “I spent years being told what I was. What I wasn’t. The scariest part wasn’t the pain. It was the not knowing where they ended and I began.”

You swallowed hard. Your hands curled around the mug in your lap like it was the only thing tethering you.

“I feel like I’m unraveling,” you whispered. “Like something is in me and I don’t understand it. I want to look Bucky in the eye and know he’s not afraid of me.”

Yelena gave you a long look. “He’s not afraid of you. He’s afraid of losing you.”

Your lip trembled. “I’m afraid of that too.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. “So don’t lose yourself first.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

“I have to go to Russia,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “I need to find out what happened to me in that place.”

Yelena didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m coming with you.”

You blinked, surprised.

She smirked. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you get all the fun intel, did you? Besides, I’ve got a few ghosts to burn.”

You let out a soft, broken laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said simply. “But you’re my friend. And we’re going to get you answers. Then we can blow the place to hell.”

You exhaled, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you.”

Yelena stood up, cracking her neck. “Now come on. You can’t cry into your tea all night. I’ve got a spare catsuit that’ll fit you, and we’ve got a plane to catch.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me one of your catsuits?”

“Temporarily. You ruin it, I kill you.”

Despite everything, you smiled. Just a little.

You would get the answers you needed, no matter what. You were unstoppable.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave@pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway @flowerluvr @calzone-d @lil-riddle-kiddle @nameless-ken @ladyvenera @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @josis-teacup @marissa8208 @houseofaegon

[houseofaegon]

i always forget that i actually have a masterlist LOL I just updated this with all my posted fics/shots and also I have added the ones that I have on my drafts that I will be posting (very) soon!! <3

masterlists ༻ ☆༺

!! smut.

** angst.

☆ OUTER BANKS

jj maybank

rafe cameron

 ៹ ─` please don't kill me mr. ghostface !! (coming soon)

☆ WEDNESDAY

tyler galpin

☆ STRANGER THINGS

steve harrington

eddie munson

☆ STAR WARS

anakin skywalker

kylo ren

☆ HARRY POTTER/FANTASTIC BEASTS

draco malfoy

cedric diggory

theseus scamander

☆ MCU

bucky barnes

 ៹ ─` one night in madripoor pt.1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4 !! **

 ៹ ─` say my name !! ** (coming soon)

☆ SHADOW AND BONE

kaz brekker

the darkling

☆ GOT/HOTD

aegon targaryen

 ៹ ─` wear the hat, ride the cowboy (modern!aegon) !! (coming soon)

 ៹ ─` i can't live without you !! (coming soon)

jacaerys velaryon

daemon targaryen

☆ FORMULA 1

charles leclerc

 ៹ ─` family reunions !! ** (coming soon)

lando norris

george russell

mick schumacher

carlos sainz

☆ FOOTBALL

mason mount

☆ SCHOOL SPIRITS

wally clark

 ៹ ─` skinny dipping pt. 1, pt.2, pt.3 !! **

 ៹ ─` 00's baby !! (coming soon)

☆ OTHER

aaron warner

pedro pascal

aaron taylor johnson

sebastian stan

 ៹ ─` wicked game series

tyler owens

 ៹ ─` adrenaline pt. 1, pt. 2 !! (coming soon)

⊱☆⊰ requests are always open! read rules and guidelines before requesting!

[houseofaegon]

omg rach!!!🥺🥺 i love you, tysm i love thiisssssss!!!!💘💘💘💘💘 this warmed my heart thank you thank you thank you!!!!!! i can’t wait for you to read moreee omgggg!!!!!

One Night In Madripoor pt. 1 ✩ Bucky Barnes

Pairings: FATWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. explicit language, heavy sexual tension/suggestive themes, alcohol use and references, protective and possessive behavior, implied violence and danger, mentions of strip club setting, pole dancing, dom!bucky, power play, rough sex, semi-public setting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, neck kissing and biting, dirty talk (heavy), overstimulation, use of pet names, reader in lingerie, praise kink, manhandling, non-consensual manhandling/touching (from side character)

Summary: Infiltrating a club in Madripoor was not what Bucky Barnes had signed up for. Tension has always defined your complicated partnership, banter, stolen glances, constant teasing, pushing and pulling. But this mission? It threatens to tip everything over the edge. When Sam sends you undercover as a dancer, and Bucky finds out the hard way, lines blur, tempers flare, and control is the first thing to go. He's always called you infuriating. You've always called him an asshole. But under the neon lights of a strip club in Madripoor, he might just call you his.

Author's note: my maladaptive daydreaming is working 24/7 full speed lately yall I cant take it anymore. I'm so obsessed with this shot, possessive bucky is so hot!!!!! if anyone wants to be tagged lmk! <333 I had this one written down a whileeeee ago I just had to fix some stuff, hope yall like it!

Word count: 2467

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

Sam Wilson crossed his arms, leaning against the briefing table. His expression was carefully neutral, but the subtle tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

"Alright, listen up," he began, glancing between you and Bucky. "Joaquin has traced intel on the Power Broker to a nightclub in Madripoor. A very influential associate frequents this club regularly. Your mission is to infiltrate it, gain his trust, and extract the intel."

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously, arms folded tight against his chest. "What's the cover?"

Sam hesitated briefly, eyes flicking to yours before returning to Bucky's. "You're going in as a wealthy buyer and frequent client at the nightclub. I need you to stay discreet, Bucky. No matter what."

Bucky raised a brow, clearly sensing Sam's hesitation. "What about her?" He jerked his chin toward you.

Sam cleared his throat. "She'll handle the direct infiltration. She's in charge of gaining the associate's trust. You just keep your eyes on her."

Bucky looked unconvinced but he said nothing, shooting you an irritated glare instead.

Sam had called you in way before Bucky arrived at the safe house. He wanted to brief you alone. The reason? Let's say the part you were going to play in this mission wasn't going to make Bucky too happy.

When you had arrived earlier, Sam had been pacing the floor anxiously. He wasn't very thrilled at the idea himself.

"I need you to listen very carefully," he said. "This mission, it requires you to—"

"Sam," you urged, sensing his hesitation. "Just spit it out."

He sighed. "I'm not sending you two to a regular nightclub, Y/N. It's a strip club. And I need you to go undercover for this, as one of the dancers. Joaquin found out that our target has a particular... How can I put it? Our target has a weakness for dancers, and he only talks to the ones he likes."

You froze, blinking at him for a long, silent moment before letting out a strained laugh, disbelief flooding your expression. "You're kidding, right?"

Sam shook his head slowly, his lips pressed tightly together, seriousness etched into every line of his face. "I wish I was."

Your stomach dropped slightly at his confirmation, anxiety knotting uncomfortably beneath your ribs. "Does Bucky know about this?"

"No," he admitted carefully. "That's why I called you in first. He can't know until it's already happening. You can't tell him. He's too… protective of you—"

"Protective?" You scoffed, trying to hide the flutter in your stomach at that word. "You mean infuriatingly controlling."

Sam raised an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. "I mean protective. You know damn well how he gets when you're involved."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. He was right. Sam was always right when it came to Bucky, especially to Bucky and you. It had always been complicated between you and the former Winter Soldier—ever since the first day Sam introduced you as his new partner on the team. Since the first day he'd laid eyes on you. You remembered that day vividly, the guarded and icy look Bucky had given you, the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he'd folded his metal arm tightly across his chest as if to ward you off. To scare you away. From that very first moment, you knew working with him would never be easy.

Damn right, it wasn't.

Bucky Barnes was the most frustrating, arrogant, and insufferably stubborn partner you'd ever expected him to be. He challenged you at every turn, questioned every decision you made, and argued relentlessly with your every strategy. Every mission quickly escalated into tense disagreements that Sam often had to mediate and pull you two apart before you started throwing punches. You drove each other insane.

But beneath all the surface-level hostility, there had always been something else, something intense, something undeniable. An attraction neither of you wanted to admit. You always caught him staring when he thought you weren't looking, his gaze lingering too long, too heated, too possessive. You felt it every time his fingers accidentally brushed yours in the field, sparks of electricity that made you ache with need.

He was protective—fiercely, almost possessively so. He'd thrown himself into harm's way more times than you could count, stepping between you and danger without a second thought, his eyes darkening with something primal and intense whenever your safety was threatened. You were younger, more naive, a little bit more impulsive, and very goddamned stubborn. And that made him insane. Every time you argued afterward, he always growled the same things: "You take too many damn risks." "You're so fucking stubborn." "Stop being so impulsive and think before you act," and each time it sent a thrill down your spine.

Seeing him so angry. So possessive. So feral over you—it lit a dangerous spark deep inside your chest, a craving you couldn’t deny, no matter how desperately you tried.

But it wasn't just anger that fueled him—it was jealousy. A jealousy you deliberately provoked, if only to witness the carefully crafted composure of Bucky Barnes shatter to pieces right before your eyes. Every time you flirted with someone else, every time you let another man touch your arm or laugh at their jokes just a bit too long, Bucky's jaw would tighten dangerously, his hands clenching at his sides, knuckles turning white. His eyes would flash with fury, burning brighter and hotter than you'd ever seen them. He wouldn't speak, not in those moments—but he didn't have to. His silence, his darkened gaze, said more than words ever could.

And god, it was intoxicating.

Maybe you were just too reckless, too dangerous. The way you pushed him, constantly testing his boundaries, seeing how far you could push him before he finally snapped. You couldn't help it. God, you actually wish you could. You loved it. Seeing him lose. Loved watching his carefully maintained walls come crumbling down slowly.

But you knew—somewhere deep down, you knew—that if he ever truly lost control, there would be no turning back.

A part of you wanted it. Craved it so fucking bad.

But another part of you, the far more rational part of you, was terrified of what it could mean. Of what the consequences could be. You were terrified of the outcome, of losing whatever fragile relationship—if you could even call it that—you had managed to forge with him.

And now? This mission threatened to change everything.

This wasn't just teasing or banter, or meaningless push and pull between two people who secretly, desperatelyand furiously desired each other. This wasn't just you pushing his buttons, hoping for a reaction, a sign. No. This was real danger, real risk. You knew Bucky would react badly. Dangerously badly. Because underneath all that rage, underneath all that hostility, underneath all that possessive protectiveness, Bucky Barnes cared.

Maybe more than he'd ever let himself admit.

And the thought terrified you.

But—despite the fear, despite the anxiety creeping up on you crawling its way inside you—you couldn't deny the rush of anticipation pulsing through your veins at the thought of his reaction when he saw you step onto that stage, the thought of what he'll do if another man laid hands on you, the thought of what he'll do to you.

It was fucking reckless, and you knew it—but maybe you were just as impulsive and stubborn as he accused you of being.

Maybe you wanted to see him finally snap.

You needed to see exactly what would happen when Bucky Barnes finally lost all control.

"Listen," Sam continued. "If Bucky finds out right now, he'll blow the entire mission. You know it. He's never gonna let you go through with it. So you can't tell him. Not yet."

You shook your head slowly. "He's going to be furious."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know. Trust me. I'll deal with him when the time comes. But right now, this is our best chance of finding the Power Broker's weaknesses and we need that intel. We have to take it."

You swallowed hard. It wasn't the mission itself that worried you. You'd done this a million times, risking yourself, putting yourself right in the middle of the warzone. It was practically second nature now. You were a Widow after all. Born, raised, and trained precisely for moments like this. You were trained to crave the adrenaline. Crave the trouble. Crave danger.

But this? This was far different than any mission you'd ever been to.

This wasn't just some high-risk op with an unpredictable target. No. This was about him. About Bucky and how he was going to react when he found out exactly what you and Sam had planned behind his back. He hated to be left behind, for things to be hidden from him.

It wasn't the mission—it was knowing how Bucky would react. How he'd look right at you, his blue eyes boring holes into your eyes. How he'd speak to you, growling and groaning once he realized you had deliberately kept him in the dark, intentionally gone behind his back, and conspired with Sam. You knew exactly what he'd say—that you were reckless, careless, irresponsible, immature—and you knew exactly how he'd look when he said it, eyes blazing, the tense set of his jaw, the way his voice would drop into a dangerously low growl—rough, protective, possessive.

Finally, you met Sam's gaze again. "Fine. I'll do it."

Sam nodded slowly, looking relieved and concerned. "Alright. Your safety is priority one. I need this to be believable but don't risk yourself. If Bucky knows ahead of time, he'll blow the entire thing up. And please, don't push him too much."

"You know I'm always safe," you smile. "But I can't promise you the last."

Sam rolled his eyes and nudged you in the arm, "You're gonna give him a heart attack one of these days."

You laughed softly, "Maybe it'll loosen him up a little."

Sam shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Yeah, or finally push him over the damn edge. Look, just promise me you two will at least try not to kill each other tonight. I need you both back in one piece in two days."

You waved him off. "Relax, Wilson. I've got this under control."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "It's not you I'm worried about."

"He'll be fine. He's handled worse."

Sam gave you a humorless laugh. "It's not him handling the mission I'm worried about. It's him handling you."

Now, sitting next to Bucky in the briefing room, you felt a sense of unease. He was silent, rigid beside you, jaw clenched tight as he listened to Sam's instructions. His posture was stiff, every muscle tight beneath his leather jacket.

Occasionally, his piercing gaze flickered toward you—sharp, intense, and suspicious. He knew you were keeping something from him. He knew you so well. It was infuriating how easily he could read you, how easily he could see straight through you.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hyper-aware of his presence and his eyes lingering on you for a minute too long. You refused to meet his eyes directly, knowing that if you did, he'd read right through you. He'd know the truth. And right now, you couldn't afford to let him now. Not yet.

He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing on you as he studied you. He knew you better than anyone else—better than you'd ever wanted him to. He always did that. Watched you closely, observed your every move, analyzed your body language, cataloged each nervous tic.

You risked a quick look in his direction, catching his stormy blue eyes locked firmly on you. Your breath caught, pulse quickened, and for one fleeting second Sam's words faded away leaving only you and Bucky's eyes boring into you.

Then he raised a brow, slowly, his expression hardening with suspicion and clear irritation. His eyes spoke a thousand words, as if he was saying I know you're hiding something from me. And I'm going to find out what it is.

The briefing ended abruptly, Sam's voice breaking through the suffocating tension between you and Bucky, making you snap your eyes back to Sam.

"Alright, you two have your instructions. Keep communication clear, and please," he sighed heavily, shooting both of you a glaring look," try not to kill each other."

Bucky rose from his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Without another word, he strode toward the exit.

"Good luck," Sam murmured quietly, giving you a sympathetic glance. "And please behave."

"I always do," you winked as you stood from your seat and followed Bucky out into the hallway. He was already halfway down the dim hallway, his back stiff, shoulder tense. You hurried your steps to catch up.

"Hey, Soldier," you called out, voice dripping with sarcasm, "eager to get away from me already?"

He halted suddenly, turning on his heel making you stop abruptly right in front of him. "I don't appreciate being kept in the dark. What aren't you telling me?"

You raised a brow, faking innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't bullshit me, Y/N," he growled, taking a step closer to you, his voice dropping dangerously low. "I know you. You've got that look on your face. The one you always have when you're about to do something either fucking insane or reckless."

Your heart skipped a beat, heat rising in your chest as his gaze bore into you. He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

You tilted your chin up stubbornly, refusing to yield. "What's wrong, Barnes? Worried about me?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, narrowing as he closed the distance between you another inch, forcing you back to meet the cold wall behind you. His metal hand flew to the wall behind your head, trapping you between the wall and his body.

His jaw tightened visibly. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for just a second too long before snapping back up to yours.

"You wish," he growled softly, leaning in so close his breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm worried about having to clean up whatever fucking mess you are about to make, doll."

Your breath caught sharply in your throat.

Doll.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you that—always had. It was a nickname reserved for those moments when arguments turned dangerously heated, or when he'd had a bit too much whiskey after long mission, when the walls he kept so firmly in place started to crumble, letting you see small glimpses of the man beneath the distant soldier. The man who sometimes would let himself relax just enough to tease you, flirt with you, push boundaries he normally kept under control. I was in those rare, vulnerable moments—when the alcohol softened his edges, turning his gruff voice into something smooth and intimate—that he'd call you doll.

Because when Bucky Barnes called you doll, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier; he was just a man—a dangerous, complicated, undeniably attractive man, who knew exactly how to unravel you with a single word.

You smirked. "Relax, Barnes," you whispered. "I know how to take care of myself."

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching tighter as he leaned in even closer. "Yeah? That's exactly what worries me, doll."

He was too close now, his scent invading your senses—a faint smell of whiskey, leather, and cigarettes. It made your head spin just a little bit too much.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You said, pushing your chin up defiantly.

"It means you're fucking stubborn, reckless, and to damn eager to run headfirst into trouble," voice dripping into a rasp that sent a shiver down our spine. "You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"

"And yet," you breathed out, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips, eyes locked onto his," you still can't seem to stay away from me."

His jaw ticked. "Yeah, maybe that's the fucking problem," he rasped, his eyes blazing with intensity as they swept over your face, lingering once more on your lips. Then a slow, wicked smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. "But I think we both know I'm not the only one with that issue."

You tilted your head, letting out a soft chuckle before your voice dropped to a taunting whisper. "Careful, Barnes. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me."

His entire body tensed instantly, his playful smirk vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. He abruptly stepped back, clearing his throat, his walks snapping back into place, his cold demeanor reasserting itself like a shield.

You watched as the man who had just been leaning so close, breathing you in like a sin he couldn’t resist, turned into the soldier again. Eyes hard. Cold. Jaw set. Shoulders tense.

"Let's go," he muttered, not meeting your eyes as he started walking down the hallway, his voice low. "We have work to do."

You took a shaky breath, swallowing hard, pushing yourself off the wall, and walking slowly behind him.

Tonight was going to change everything—and somehow, you weren't sure whether that thought filled you more with dread or excitement.

[houseofaegon]

Bucky Barnes as president?? Give me 10, hot to go please!!!!

the making of a king [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: As Congressman Barnes steps into the political arena, he realises the battle for power is only just beginning. As he claims his place in the race, unseen forces move against him—forces that know exactly where to strike. The war for the presidency isn’t just about policy. It’s about control. And the only way to control Bucky Barnes… is through you.

Word Count: 6380

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content, employer x employee, anal, fingering, m recieving oral, buttplay/butt stuff, bucky eats ass, f recieving oral, biting, canon typical plot devices and politics

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The soft hum of the kitchen fan filled the quiet safe house as you moved around, fixing lunch for Bucky. After the intense, heated moment you’d shared earlier, your body still buzzed with warmth, but your mind was steady, content. He sat at the small dining table, watching you with that quiet, observant gaze of his, elbows resting on the wooden surface as his vibranium fingers drummed lightly against the grain.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, voice low and rough from the weight of the morning.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the way his gaze softened when you met it. “I know,” you teased, “but someone’s gotta take care of you. And I like it being me.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue. You finished plating the sandwiches and set them down in front of him, taking the seat beside him. For a moment, it was just the sound of the cutlery scraping against the plate, the occasional clink of a glass being set down. The moment felt… domestic. Safe. But there was something lingering in the air—something unspoken.

Bucky was the one to break the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, looking at him. “Better,” you admitted. “I think I just needed a moment to breathe.”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded, accepting your answer. It wasn’t what he meant. “And… about Russia?”

You hesitated, setting down your cutlery and thinking hard. “I wish I could tell you more, but… I don’t remember anything.” Your brows furrowed. “It’s weird. I know I was there, but it’s like someone took an eraser to my memory and just… wiped it clean.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on his fork. He set it down with a deliberate motion and leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. “That’s not normal,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. Your admission sent shivers running down Bucky’s spine, and naturally, he thought about all the times he was put into cryo, every time he came close to remembering something he shouldn't have. And then, he’d wake up, be activated, and have no recollection of his life prior. It was haunting. 

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over the cool vibranium. “I know. But I’m okay now.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

When you finished eating, you stretched your arms over your head. “Alright, time for me to get dressed for the press conference.”

Bucky’s expression shifted immediately. “You’re not coming.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I need you to stay here,” he said firmly. “It’s not safe.”

Your lips parted, caught between offense and understanding. “Bucky—”

He reached for his phone, already dialing. “Yelena’s gonna come keep you company.”

You groaned. “So, I don’t even get a say in this?”

He arched a brow. “No.”

You crossed your arms, sighing dramatically. “The assistant in me wants to fight you for taking away my work duties,” you admitted, tilting your head. “But the girlfriend in me…” Your voice softened as you reached out, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Well, she doesn’t want to do anything that would make you unhappy.”

You were really starting to like this domestic life with Bucky; a life that you never believed would have suited you. You loved waking up in his arms, basking in the morning glow of the sun. You loved cooking for him and having the house clean for when he gets home. Of course you missed going to work, those late nights spent in the office with the Congressman, but you would have never expected to love this calm and quiet life even more. Bucky took care of you, and made you feel good, and you found pleasure in doing the same for him. 

Bucky’s lips twitched, and then he leaned in, catching your mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand came up, fingers sliding through your hair, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeper, longer.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ll be back soon.”

You exhaled softly. “You better be.”

He smirked, squeezing your waist before stepping back. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone.”

You huffed. “No promises.”

And with that, he slipped out of the door to the safehouse and out into the street. His personal driver was waiting for him a few blocks away, as usual, and as Bucky navigated New York’s bustling nature, he thought about you.

This fight wasn’t even about him anymore, it was about you. He wouldn’t let Hydra take away the most important thing in his life; but when you said you couldn’t remember, and when he saw you get injected with that unnaturally dark, syrupy serum, his stomach twisted. As Bucky slipped into the back of the car, his phone vibrated.

Bruce: I have Ross’ serum. I’ll be handing it over to Sam later today. Best of luck with this, Buck. You know you got my support. 

Bucky sighed an air of relief as the car spun down the road. He closed his eyes, thinking over the press conference, thinking over his life. Bucky’s life was cruel and long, filled with chaos and misadventure, from getting unwillingly drafted in the war, to spending seventy years in captivity, to being freed and forced to take time to recover, learning to navigate a world where he was hated. Feared, even. Entering the world of politics came as a surprise for Bucky too, but he was so glad he did, for if it wasn’t for being a member of Congress, he would have never have gotten this close to you. 

The air was thick with anticipation as the press conference began. The White House briefing room was packed—journalists squeezed shoulder to shoulder, cameras flashing, recorders held high. The entire world was watching.

Bucky watched from the sidelines. “Relax man,” Sam Wilson appeared out of nowhere, placing his palm flat against Bucky’s back. Bucky breathed an air of relief and turned to his friend who was doting the full red, white and blue hero get up. Bucky stifled a laugh.

“Nice outfit.” He sniggered.

Sam rolled his eyes, which were shaded by red tinged goggles. “Well someone had to go save the world before attending this conference,” he said sarcastically. “When duty calls.”

“Did Banner get the serum to you?” Bucky asked quietly.

Sam nodded silently. “I will deliver the package to him after the conference, on the condition that Ross does what is right.”

Bucky nodded knowingly and as the loud introductory music started playing, Bucky and Sam watched eagerly as Thaddeus Ross walked onto the stage. There was no telling how this was going to go. 

At the podium, President Ross stood stiffly, his hands gripping the sides like a man awaiting his own sentencing. His face was drawn, lined with exhaustion. He cleared his throat, the microphone amplifying the small sound before he finally spoke.

“Good afternoon,” he began, his voice steady but worn. “I stand before you today not as a leader, but as a man who has made mistakes. Grave mistakes.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Bucky stood off to the side, back in the shadows, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Ross continued. “For years, I have served this country under the illusion of control. But I was never in control—not truly. Hydra was.”

The room erupted into shocked whispers, cameras flashing at a rapid pace. Ross was really doing it. He was telling his truth and reaffirming everything that Bucky had come out with. 

Ross held up a hand, silencing them. “I was a pawn, manipulated and coerced through means I do not wish upon any man. Their reach… it extended further than I ever imagined. And because of my weakness, because of my inability to fight back, I allowed their influence to fester within our government.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he watched Ross shift, his grip tightening on the podium.

“I will not stand here and pretend I am blameless,” Ross admitted. “But I will not allow Hydra to win. Effective immediately, I am stepping down as President of the United States.”

The room was chaos. Shouted questions overlapped, journalists scrambling to process the breaking news.

Ross exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “Before I go, I must do one last thing. I owe an apology to this nation. To every citizen I have failed. And to my daughter… Betty.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Ross’ eyes glistened, but he held himself together. “I know that stepping down does not absolve me, nor does it erase the damage done. But I promise you this—Hydra will fall. And I place my faith in the man beside me to make that happen.”

Ross turned to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes.”

The weight of the moment was heavy as Bucky stepped forward. He and Ross exchanged a nod—one of reluctant respect, of understanding.

Ross leaned closer. “I sent you the coordinates,” he muttered under his breath.

Bucky gave the barest of nods before taking his place at the podium. Ross stepped back, the former President now just a man walking away from the mess he helped create.

Bucky let the room settle before he spoke. “I’m not here to clean up Ross’ mess,” he stated plainly. “I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

A tension-filled silence stretched across the room.

“For years, Hydra has hidden in the shadows, manipulating governments, infiltrating organizations, and turning good men into weapons. No more.” His voice was firm, resolute. “This country deserves transparency. It deserves leaders who will fight for them, not control them.”

A journalist raised their hand. “And do you believe President Ross was one of those controlled men?”

Bucky met their gaze. “Yes,” he said simply. “Ross acted under duress. But let me make one thing clear—this is not me defending him. This is me stating the truth. If we are to dismantle Hydra, we need to understand their reach. Their tactics. Their power.”

More voices piped up, more questions fired. Then, one cut through the noise.

“Congressman Barnes—will you be running for President?”

The room fell silent.

It was the question the world had been asking; the question that had hounded Bucky for days. It had been all over social media, the theories and conspiracies…

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard for the first time. His steel-blue eyes narrowed, scanning the sea of eager faces. “Is that what you people want?” His question was almost timid as he measured it up in his head.

A roar of agreement surged through the crowd.

Bucky exhaled, staring at the podium as if he was weighing the weight of the world. Then, he straightened his spine and looked up.

“Then consider this my official announcement.”

The briefing room was in chaos. Ross had stepped down. Hydra’s grip on the government was exposed. And now—Bucky Barnes had just announced his candidacy for President of the United States.

The roar of journalists was deafening. Everyone wanted answers.

Bucky stood firm at the podium, gripping the edges like a man holding his ground in a battlefield. He let the noise settle just enough before he spoke again.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said, his voice calm but unwavering. “What qualifies me to lead? I’m not a politician. I don’t have a history in government. What I have is a history of fighting against tyranny. And I promise you, I will not stop until Hydra is wiped from every corner of this world.”

The flashes of cameras made the room flicker like a storm of lightning. Hands shot up, but Bucky wasn’t finished.

“I won’t turn my back on Ross,” he continued, his tone firm. “Despite his mistakes, despite the past, I will stand by him. Because I know what it’s like to be used. To have your actions dictated by someone else’s agenda. He may have worn the title of President, but he was never truly in control. And that’s exactly what Hydra wanted.”

Another uproar. A cacophony of voices. But this time, Bucky motioned toward the crowd. “Go ahead. Ask.”

The first journalist jumped in immediately. “Congressman Barnes, do you truly believe President Ross is a victim in all of this?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly before he answered. “I believe in accountability. But I also believe in the truth. Ross was manipulated, same as I was. You all know what Hydra did to me. How they used me. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world isn’t black and white. So no—I’m not absolving him. But I am choosing to protect him. Because that’s what I do.”

More questions fired at once.

“Speaking of your past—how can the American people trust a man once known as the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky exhaled slowly. “Because I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore.” His vibranium fingers flexed against the podium. “That name—it was given to me by Hydra. It was their way of erasing the man I used to be. But I fought my way back. And now I choose who I am.” His blue eyes scanned the room, daring anyone to challenge him. “I am James Buchanan Barnes. And I will fight for this country until my last breath.”

Another journalist cut in. “What about Russia? What happened there? Reports suggest you were involved in classified operations. Can you confirm or deny?”

Bucky’s face remained unreadable. “I can confirm that I was there. And I can confirm that Hydra’s reach extends far beyond what any of us realized. But details of that mission? That’s not information I can disclose just yet. What I can tell you is that we uncovered evidence that changes everything.”

Murmurs spread through the press.

Someone else shouted, “What about Steve Rogers? Do you think he’d support this decision?”

Bucky’s lips pressed together at the mention of Steve’s name. He tilted his head slightly, thinking. Then, he smirked—just barely. “I think Steve would’ve laughed his ass off if he knew I was standing here.” A small chuckle rippled through the room. “But yeah. I think he’d be proud.”

Another journalist jumped in. “Your past isn’t just linked to Hydra. You have… a complicated history. Criminal accusations, past assassinations, war crimes—”

Bucky’s smirk disappeared. His expression turned stone-cold.

“I’ve answered for my past,” he said evenly. “Every crime, every action I took under Hydra’s control—I have spent years making amends. You think I don’t live with it? You think I don’t remember every name, every face?” His voice hardened. “But let’s get one thing straight. I will never be controlled again.”

The room stilled.

Then, the next question came. And this one was personal.

“Congressman Barnes — we just love your relationship with your assistant. But don’t you think your candidacy as president will endanger her?”

Bucky’s fingers drummed against the podium. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced down, lips twitching slightly before looking back up. “Next question.”

The journalists weren’t having it.

“Come on, Congressman Barnes—" “Is it true she was taken by Hydra?” “There are photos of you two—" “Are you together?” “Is she safe?”

Bucky’s smirk faded. His jaw clenched as his eyes swept across the sea of reporters, his patience thinning. Finally, he spoke. And his voice was low. Steady.

“She is none of your concern.”

Another stunned silence.

Then, a final question rang through the room.

“Congressman Barnes, you’ve spent your life as a soldier. You’ve fought wars, toppled regimes, dismantled Hydra’s operations. But can you lead a country?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly. He let the question settle, let the weight of it press against his chest.

Then, he exhaled. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “I won’t stand here and pretend I’m some perfect candidate. But what I do know is this—I will fight for this country. Not as a soldier. Not as a weapon. But as a man who refuses to let history repeat itself.”

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I won’t let them take control again. Not while I’m still breathing.”

With that, he stepped away from the podium.

The room exploded.

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The sound of fists meeting padded mitts echoed through the safe house’s underground training room. The air was thick with exertion, each strike sharp and precise. You threw a jab, followed by a cross, then a sharp kick. Yelena barely flinched, catching your movements with ease.

“Again,” she ordered.

You rolled your shoulders, exhaling before launching another attack. This time, Yelena let your fist hit the mitt before twisting, knocking you off balance with a quick leg sweep. You hit the mat with a sharp thud.

“You punch like my guinea pig," Yelena commented, standing over you. "If I was someone else, you’d be dead."

You groaned, pushing yourself up. “What does that even mean: I ‘punch like your guniea pig’?”

She smirked. “I don’t know, but it’s not good. I’m alive, which is more than I can say for you if you keep fighting like that."

You shot her a glare but took the offered hand, letting her yank you to your feet. “You’re annoying.”

Yelena circled you, assessing. "Something feels… off about you."

You frowned. "Off how?"

She tilted her head, scrutinizing. "You’ve always been strong, but now? It’s like you’re holding back without realising it. The way you’re fighting… it’s like something has shifted.”

Your stomach twisted. "That doesn’t make sense."

"Doesn’t it?" Yelena mused. Then, in a flash, she lunged.

Instinct kicked in before thought. Your body moved on its own—ducking, twisting, countering—until you caught her wrist, yanked her forward, and threw her.

Hard.

Yelena slammed against the mat with a force that sent a tremor through the room.

Silence.

You blinked, breathing heavy, realising what you’d done.

Yelena just laid there for a moment, stunned. Then, she laughed. "Oh. Shit."

You took a step back. "I—I didn’t mean to do that."

Yelena sat up, rubbing her spine. "Well, damn, sweetheart. If you wanted to kill me, you could have just said so."

Panic fluttered in your chest. You weren’t supposed to be that strong. That wasn’t—

Yelena squinted at you. "Okay. New plan."

She shot to her feet and before you could react, she grabbed a 25-pound weight plate from the rack and tossed it at you.

Your hands snapped up instinctively—catching it with zero struggle.

Yelena whistled. "Okay. Yeah. That’s not normal."

Your heart pounded as you slowly lowered the weight. "It’s just adrenaline," you insisted. You swallowed hard, setting the weight down like it was nothing.

Yelena crossed her arms. "So… when were you planning on telling Bucky that you’re basically a baby super-soldier now?"

You bit your lip. "I—I don’t think it’s anything. I’ve just been training harder."

"Yeah, no," Yelena deadpanned. "That’s not training. That’s serum level strength, babe. And unless you’ve been hitting the gym like Captain America on steroids, I think you need to face the fact that something is very wrong."

You stared at your hands, flexing your fingers. They felt the same. You felt the same.

But Yelena was right.

Something was off.

Before you could spiral, your phone buzzed on the bench nearby. You reached for it, flipping it open.

Bucky: I have news. Be home in 20 minutes.

You: Good news? I hope.

Bucky: Wear something I can tear off you.

You could almost hear his dark, gravelly chuckle through the phone.

Yelena groaned again, grabbing her water bottle. You hadn’t realised she was watching you text. “Is this your new thing? I didn’t know Bucky had it in him to sext. I’m impressed, I think.”

You slipped your phone into your pocket and shook your head, heat flushing your cheeks with embarrassment. “Hardly sexting.” You muttered.

“Alright, whatever. I’m leaving before he gets home. Try not to break the bed with your new freakish strength."

You shot her a glare. "Shut up."

She winked. "See you tomorrow, baby Hulk."

Then, she was gone.

And you were left staring at your phone, heart hammering, knowing that in just a few minutes… Bucky Barnes would be walking through that door.

And you’d be waiting for him.

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You adjusted the strap of your black lace lingerie, a different set to what you were wearing yesterday, exhaling as you checked yourself in the mirror. The dim lighting cast soft shadows over your skin, the anticipation humming through you like a live wire. You painted your lips a crimson red and looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t usually one to be modest; but you looked incredible. 

Bucky’s text was still burning in your mind.

Wear something I can tear off you.

Your stomach tightened, heat spreading through your chest at the sheer authority in his words.

And then—

The sound of the front door unlocking sent a jolt of excitement straight through you.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. The air in the room shifted, like it knew he was here.

Then, Bucky stepped into the doorway, holding a boquet of roses in the crook of his elbow and a small, teal blue Tiffany’s giftbag.

And when he saw you, sat at your vanity, he froze.

His ocean-blue eyes dragged over you, slow and devouring, like he was drinking in every inch of your body. His suit jacket hung open, his tie loosened like he’d ripped it off in the car, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the solid steel of his forearm.

And his jaw—his jaw—ticked as he took a long, slow inhale through his nose.

A dangerous, predatory silence stretched between you.

Then, suddenly—

You let out a sharp gasp as Bucky crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing you at the waist and hoisting you up against him. His lips crashed into yours, all-consuming, as his body pressed you back onto the bed.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his breath hot against your lips. His hands roamed, fingers tracing over lace and skin, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or devour you whole. “I love coming home to this.”

You giggled, bringing your hands to cup his face as he peppered delicate kisses along your jaw. “Bucky,” you said softly. “You said you had news?”

Bucky pulled away from you and handed you the bouquet of roses. “These are for you,” He announced. “I realised your my girlfriend and I have never bought you flowers and that’s just not right so…”

You beamed, your eyes sparkling at the gesture. “Oh, they’re beautiful. Let me go put them in water.” You went to stand up but Bucky’s hand came down to your shoulder and he pushed you back down into your seat.

“Wait, not yet, I have something else for you. Close your eyes.”

You heard the crinkling of tissue paper as Bucky dipped his hand into the bag. You heard the opening of a small velvet box and felt him move your hair out of your face, his warm fingers grazing your collarbones. Bucky delicately placed the thin gold chain around your neck, adorned with a heart shaped locket, and fastened it in place.

“Open your eyes.”

You looked at it in the reflection of yourself in the mirror. Bucky stood behind you, his gaze unable to leave yours in the reflection.

“Oh wow,” you whispered in disbelief. “This had to have been so expensive Bucky, I— you didn’t have to—“

“Do you like it?” Bucky asked quietly, his eyes filled with worry.

You turned around and kissed him hard. “I love it. And I love you,” You clicked open the locket to find it was empty. “I want to put a photo of you in it.”

Bucky chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. Don’t ruin it with a picture of me…”

You gasped and feigned shock, playfully smacking him on the shoulder. “Oh don’t you say things like that,” you warned him with a soft smile. You stood up and wrapped your hands around his face, letting them drift down his body to his chest. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”

Bucky swallowed nervously. “I know,” he breathed, his ocean blue eyes not leaving yours. “I uh— my news though, it might change this…”

His voice trailed off and you felt your heart drop in your chest. “What?”

And then—casually—he dropped the bomb.

“I’m running for president.”

Your brain short-circuited. You searched his eyes for elaboration but got nothing. 

You blinked. "You’re what?”

The Congressman couldn’t help but smile. You were so cute when you were surprised.

Bucky sunk down to your level, nuzzled into your neck, and pressed open-mouthed kisses along your pulse. "President," he murmured against your skin. "Big office. Oval-shaped."

"Yeah, I know what it means, you idiot!" You smacked his shoulder, shoving him just enough to look him in the face. "You’re seriously running?"

He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well I did consider it for all of five seconds. And it’s what the people want.”

You gawked at him. "The people—Bucky, you just announced this today?"

He nodded, completely unbothered. "Press conference."

"You didn’t think to maybe run that by me first?"

His lips curved, that infuriatingly smug little smirk that melted you every time. "Oh, I didn’t realize I needed my girlfriend’s permission.” He was teasing. 

Your breath hitched.

Girlfriend.

The word settled between you like a spark catching fire.

Bucky caught onto it instantly.

His smirk deepened, his nose brushing against yours.

"I do have your permission, don’t I?" he teased, voice dropping to something low and dangerous.

Your stomach flipped.

He was serious. He was really going to run.

And he wasn’t asking for your support.

He was claiming it.

And god, it made sense.

Of course he was running.

Of course he’d take this fight all the way.

And of course he’d come home and sweep you into his arms like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

So, you did the only thing you could.

You fisted the front of his dress shirt, dragging him back down into a kiss so hard it made you both gasp. Bucky groaned, deep and gravelly, and picked you up in his arms before dropping you down onto the bed. He pressed his entire weight into you, pinning you beneath him like he never wanted to let go.

He moved his lips to your ear, his voice thick with something dark and possessive.

“You okay with being my First Lady?” he murmured the question, his pupils blown big and dark.

Your pulse jumped and you nodded wordlessly. His fingers traced along the lace of your lingerie, slow, purposeful.

“Yes, Mr. President,” you bit your lip, fingers tangling in his hair. Your breath hitched.

His nose brushed your jawline as he exhaled, shaky and desperate. Your stomach flipped as you tilted your chin up, brushing your lips against his.

"I’m yours, Bucky."

Bucky exhaled sharply, like you’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

Then—

He kissed you senseless.

And you let him.

Bucky kissed you like he needed to prove something.

Like claiming you with words wasn’t enough.

Like he had to mark it into your skin, so deep that you'd feel it in your bones.

He rolled his hips against you, pinning you beneath his weight, and God—the sheer size of him made your breath stutter.

"You’re mine," he murmured between fevered kisses, voice rough, gravelly.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging hard, and his sharp inhale sent a rush of heat straight through you.

"You already won, Bucky," you teased, breathless. "No one else even stood a chance."

His blue eyes darkened, flashing with something dangerous.

"Say it again."

Your stomach flipped, something molten curling low in your belly.

"I’m yours," you whispered.

Bucky growled, pressing his lips to your jaw, your throat—anywhere he could touch, taste, claim.

Then, suddenly—

He bit you.

You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck, just enough to make you feel it.

Heat coiled in your stomach.

"Bucky," you whispered, voice trembling.

He licked over the mark, soothing it, before pressing another open-mouthed kiss right over the spot.

And then he did it again.

And again.

Until he was satisfied—until your skin was littered with his marks.

"Good girl," he rasped, lips brushing against your pulse.

A shiver ran through you.

Bucky exhaled, heavy, slow, before pulling back to look at you.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured.

You cupped his jaw, tracing your thumb along his stubble-roughened cheek. "Then show me," you whispered.

His breath hitched and he brought his hands down to his slacks, removing them, along with his boxer briefs, in one swift movement. He hung hard and you felt your mouth begin to water for him. 

Licking your lips, you took him in your hands, your fingers tracing the vein that defined his length. Then, you placed a kitten lick over his head, savouring the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. 

“Oh baby,” Bucky groaned, his cock twitching in your hand with agonising desperation. He brought one hand down to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other unoccupied hand down to your breast, cupping it through the material of your lingerie. Then, in a sudden movement, he yanked it down, exposing your skin to the cool air. His cold, steel Vibranium fingers brushed over your already hard nipples, pinching them only occasionally.

“There’s uh— there’s something I’ve been wanting to try,” you announced quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Bucky’s cock before standing up and pulling him up with you. You ran your hands over his chest, peeling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. You took him over to your vanity and you leaned against it.

“Yeah? What’s that doll?” Bucky asked quizically, his eyes dark with lust. 

You took a deep breath before leaning over the desk of your vanity and opening your legs, your glistening wet folds on full show for your boyfriend who was behind you. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, and looked at Bucky who was totally and utterly mesmerised by you. He brought his hand down to his cock, fisting at it.

“You want me to take you from behind?” Bucky asked with bewilderment. “We’ve done that before.”

You giggled shyly. “No, Buck,” you said. “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

Bucky swallowed, his eyes growing comically large at the realisation. “Oh. Oh.” 

You bit your lip. “Think you can do that for me, Mr President?” You asked, feigning innocent and fluttering your eyelashes. 

Bucky grinned, excitement flickering across his face before breaking the distance between you two. He started by running his fingers along your folds, gathering your slick so he could use it as lubrication. “Would be my pleasure doll,” he said, his voice rough with lust. “But I don’t wanna hurt you so lets start out easy.”

Bucky placed the tip of his index finger over your tight hole, rimming it teasingly before carefully sliding it in. He felt you clench around him as a small gasp escaped your lips at the pressure. Your back arched as you tried to press your ass back into his finger.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky muttered as you sinked into him. “Greedy girls get more than they can take.” He said plainly before suddenly sliding his middle finger in, stretching you open without warning. You gasped, air leaving your lungs as your fingernails scraped against your vanity desk.

“See, I can handle it,” you whimpered, your head dropping between your shoulders. Bucky curled his fingers inside of you, the digits hitting that sweet spot everytime. By now he knew your body like the back of his hand, but this was new, a journey he had not yet explored.

“Fuck, think I could just cum from doing this to you,” he chuckled darkly.

“Mm, not yet,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as he built up your high. “I want you to fill me up.”

Bucky mumbled something incoherent before sinking down to his knees and pulling out his fingers with a pop and almost immediately replacing them with his tongue. Your stomach coiled with pleasure as he ate your ass, lapping at it like a starved man. He kneaded your ass, fingers digging into it so hard you know it would bruise, but Bucky wanted exactly that. He loved claiming you as his, making his mark. It was predatory and it was so very him. 

Bucky’s tongue probed at your hole and his fingers lunged down to your pussy, circling your clit with intent. “Cum on my fingers,” his voice was dark with command as he continued tongue fucking you. You didn’t think you had ever been this wet in your life, your thighs slick with the mess he was making of you. Lewd, wet noises filled the room. As if on command, you buried your head down into the vanity and released yourself on his fingers, a desperate whine leaving your lips. 

Bucky pulled off you with ease before positioning himself between your legs, pushing his achingly hard cock against your tight ring. “Tell me if it hurts baby, tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your neck.

You can’t do much more than a nod. Bucky hisses as he sinks into you, and you practically bite back a scream as pleasure jolts through your body like a bolt of electricity.

“Ah fuck— too much,” Bucky grits out, holding himself still inside of you as you adjust yourself on his thick girth. “Feels too good.”

His mouth hangs open and his eyes are squeezed shut. “Nuh-uh, open your eyes,” you tell him, surprised you even managed to bite the words out. “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror — I want you to watch yourself as you fuck me.” Bucky followed your instruction without any further words and lazily slung his Vibranium arm around you, holding you in place, the coldness of the metal stinging your sticky hot skin. 

Bucky double backs almost barely before cursing under his breath. “I won’t last.” He warns and you hum knowingly.

“Move.” You requested, your voice aching with desperation. Bucky just about abided, snapping his hips into your ass slowly and carefully. You could tell he was overstimulated from the way his face was scrunched up, from the whine in his voice. 

“Cum inside me,” you whispered. 

Bucky managed to get a few more thrusts in, his hand holding your neck, forcing you to watch him in the mirror as he fucked your ass. 

When he spilled inside of you, you let out a cry, his seed painting your walls. You clamped down on him, feeling his cum warm you up, but he was still inside of you, and you had never felt so full. Bucky towered over you, placing a sloppy, hot kiss on your shoulder. “I don’t think I can pull out.” He whispered, the curve of his nose brushing against your neck, his stubble tickling at you.

“It’s okay,” you smiled, turning your head slightly so you could place a soft kiss on his jaw. “You can stay in me for as long as you need.”

Bucky moaned. “You are so perfect.”

In time, Bucky softened inside of you. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, talking about how he was so lucky to have met you, so lucky to have known you, and that he would do anything for you. All of this, he had already proven to you. When he finally was able to pull out, he picked you up in one sweeping motion and gently lay you down on the bed. He spread your legs open and sat in between them, peppering light, baby kisses to the inside of your thighs and watching as his cum leaked out of you. 

“I wanna get you cleaned up, sweet girl,” Bucky murmured.

“No,” you replied, holding your hands out and pulling Bucky down on top of you. “Just stay with me here. Lay with me. Please.”

Bucky obliged, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. In this moment, nothing else mattered because he had you, and he was never going to come close to losing you ever again. 

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Ethan sat stiffly in his chair, nursing a glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched. Across from him, Tara twirled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, watching him with thinly veiled disdain.

“You had one job,” she said coolly. “Get her on your side. And yet, here we are.”

Ethan exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. “It’s not over.”

Tara scoffed. “Please. She’s his now. He’d burn the world down for her, and you let it happen.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but then he smirked. “Doesn’t matter. My plan’s coming together. I’m running for president.”

That caught Tara’s attention. She studied him for a beat, then leaned in, interest piqued.

“You really think you can win?”

“I know I can.” He sat back, confidence creeping into his tone. “He’s not untouchable, no matter how much the world worships him.”

Tara hummed, swirling her wine. “Maybe not. But you’re thinking too small.”

Ethan frowned. “And what’s your grand idea?”

Tara’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Bucky doesn’t take orders. He follows one thing—her.” She set down her glass, tilting her head. “Control her, and you control him.”

Ethan’s smirk faltered slightly, like he hadn’t considered that angle.

Tara leaned back, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “You fight him in the public arena. I’ll make sure he’s too distracted to stop you.”

She stood, smoothing down her blazer. “Sit tight, Ethan. This game’s only just begun.”

And with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Ethan gripping his glass a little too tightly.

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Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave@pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway @flowerluvr @calzone-d @lil-riddle-kiddle @nameless-ken @ladyvenera @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @josis-teacup @marissa8208 @houseofaegon

[houseofaegon]

born to ride, or whatever Lana said🫦🫦🫦🫦

brooklyn baby [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: Hiding out in your Brooklyn apartment, Bucky finally lets his guard down, opening up about his past and the ghosts that still haunt him. As they navigate their growing connection, the threat looming over them becomes impossible to ignore. When an old friend shows up with a plan, Bucky is forced to decide—stay in the shadows or fight back before it’s too late.

Word Count: 3100

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, m!receiving oral, handjobs, riding, delayed gratification, edging, praise kink, you take care of your boss

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The fallout from the airport fight spiralled faster than either of you could have imagined. The media had latched onto the image of Bucky punching the man to the ground, and within hours, every major outlet was dissecting it. The headlines were brutal.

“James Barnes: Hero or Menace?”

“Ex-Winter Soldier Loses Control—Again.”

“Congressman Barnes’ Violent Outburst Sparks Controversy.”

The press swarmed as soon as you landed. Paparazzi lined the exits, their cameras flashing like a relentless storm, and reporters shouted over one another.

“Congressman Barnes! Was the attack premeditated?”

“Do you think your violent history makes you unfit for office?”

“Who was the woman with you? A secret lover?”

“Will there be an investigation?”

The tension sat thick between you. The worst part? The whispers were growing. Bucky wasn’t just under scrutiny for the fight—someone was leaking information. Photos of the two of you together, too close in quiet moments, grainy images taken from a distance that suggested something more than professionalism. A calculated attack.

You scrolled through your phone, reading the latest articles.

“Sources close to Barnes reveal he’s been engaging in an unprofessional relationship with a member of his staff.”

“Anonymous insiders claim the Congressman has been seen getting intimate with his assistant behind closed doors.”

“A political scandal brewing?”

Your stomach twisted. “Bucky…” You hesitated, then turned your screen toward him.

He barely spared it a glance. “I know,” he muttered. “I saw it this morning.”

Your heart pounded. “Who’s doing this?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling.”

And then there was Tara. She had been oddly distant all morning—no witty remarks, no passive-aggressive jabs. Just silence. That alone made your skin crawl.

Bucky’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then cursed under his breath. “I need to call Sam.”

You frowned. “Sam?”

“If they think they can silence me, they’re wrong.” His expression darkened. “This isn’t just about the fight. It’s bigger than that. Someone’s trying to control me. And I won’t let them.”

You swallowed hard. “Bucky… what are you planning?”

He finally looked at you, his blue eyes stormy and determined. “I’m going to find out who’s behind this. And I’m going to bring them down.”

The drive back to Brooklyn was quiet, but not uncomfortable. After everything that had happened—the fight at the airport, the media storm, the looming threats—you were both exhausted. The city lights blurred past the car windows, and Bucky’s fingers twitched on his thigh as if itching to reach for you.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Home. For now, at least.

Bucky followed you inside, scanning the surroundings like a soldier surveying new territory. He had been in your space before, but never like this—never in a way that felt so permanent, so inevitable.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you murmured, slipping off your coat. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

Bucky nodded but didn’t sit. Instead, he wandered over to the bookshelf near your window, eyes tracing over the spines of books and the small trinkets you had collected over the years.

“You’re a reader,” he noted, running his fingers along the edges of a few well-worn novels.

You smiled, handing him a glass of water. “Always have been. I used to spend hours at the library as a kid.”

He hummed, taking a sip. “Me too.”

That surprised you. “Really?”

Bucky leaned against the windowsill, a small, wistful smile playing at his lips. “Yeah. My ma worked long hours, so sometimes she’d drop me and Rebecca off at the library. I’d read anything I could get my hands on—adventure stories, war novels, even poetry.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Steve always made fun of me for that one.”

Your chest warmed at the thought of a younger Bucky, lost in books, before the war, before everything. “I think that’s sweet. Rebecca is…?”

“My youngest sister,” Bucky answered, his lips curling into a small smile. “She lives up in Indiana, in a care-home. I try and visit when I can but, it’s a busy life. I think she’d like you, actually.”

The last part made your heart warm. You walked over to the Congressman, passing him a glass of neat whiskey. His favourite. “You have more than one sister?”

“I have— had— three sisters. Rebecca, Betty, and Winnie. Becca is the only one still with us. I was the older brother, always doing my best to take care of them. I taught them how to read, actually.” Bucky laughed fondly at the memory and took a swig of his drink. You gazed up at him, mesmerised. He had never opened up like this before, and it felt good to know he was this comfortable around you. 

“I bet you were the most wonderful big brother,” you said, rubbing your hand on Bucky’s shoulder soothingly. You felt the knots under his skin, the tension.

“I tried to be,” Bucky replied. “I miss my sisters all the time. When HYDRA kidnapped me, my sisters had to bury me. They believed me to be dead. In the fifties, Betty passed away from a short-lived illness, and in the seventies, we lost Winnie too. I never got the chance to see them again.”

You were lost for words. No person should have ever gone through something like that. You were beginning to understand now why Bucky’s campaigning was so important to him, and why he was so worried about a Super Soldier revival. 

“I think… I think I’d like to meet Rebecca one day. I’m sure she has some funny stories about her big brother.”

Bucky laughed. “I’d like for you to meet her too. She’s so important to me, you know?”

“Of course.”  You replied. 

“When I came back, got my freedom, I tracked her down. When she saw me, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven,” Bucky revealed, his blue eyes wide with sadness. “I got to learn all about the life she lived without me. Got herself a husband and had kids, then grandkids, a dog too. She named her son after me, actually. I used to long for that sort of thing. A family. But I guess the universe had other ideas.” Bucky glanced at you, his gaze softer now that he had shared that. “What about you? What was your childhood like?”

You hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Not as interesting as yours, I’m sure. I moved around a lot. Never really had a place that felt like home until I came here.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “You got family?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but we’re not close.”

He didn’t press, and you were grateful for that. Instead, he simply said, “Then this is home.”

Something about the way he said it made your throat tighten. Home was never a place for you, not when you moved about so much. You couldn’t afford to make a place a home, but that comfort and care and love that a home was supposed to give, you had found with Bucky. No matter if you were in his office, flying on his jet or in a Tokyo hotel room. Bucky felt like home.

You looked away, clearing your throat. “You hungry?”

Bucky smirked. “Depends. You offering to cook?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Barnes.”

But the teasing felt good. Normal. Like, despite everything, the world hadn’t completely spun off its axis.

Eventually, after sharing stories of childhood mischief and Brooklyn winters, you both ended up in your bedroom. The weight of the past few days, the exhaustion, the tension—it all melted away as you curled into each other.

Bucky’s hands were warm as they traced your spine, and his breath was steady against your neck.

“You tired?” he murmured.

You should have been. But with his body pressed against yours, sleep was the last thing on your mind.

“No,” you whispered, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

His eyes darkened. “Good.”

His lips were on yours before you could say another word, slow and deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he rolled you onto your back. His hands wandered, exploring, claiming, but when his fingers brushed the hem of your sleep shorts, you pulled back.

“Let me,” you whispered, your hands already working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Bucky’s breath hitched. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

And God, you did. You had felt him before, had touched him, but you had never taken him in your mouth, never had the chance to make him fall apart beneath you.

Bucky swallowed hard, watching as you moved down the bed, your hands sliding his sweatpants and boxers down in one slow motion. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed, twitching slightly as the cool air hit him.

You licked your lips. “You’re so big…”

Bucky groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Fuck, sweetheart…”

You started slow, kissing the tip, licking a teasing stripe up his length. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to grab your hair.

When you finally took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deep, Bucky let out a strangled moan.

“Jesus—” His hand found the back of your head, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, savouring the way he twitched under your tongue. The weight of him in your hand was heavy, thick, veins pulsing against your palm as you gave him a slow, deliberate stroke.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck, baby…”

His voice was rough, edged with desperation, and it made you even wetter, the power of having him like this sending a thrill through your body. You flicked your tongue over the head, teasing the slit before wrapping your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper.

Bucky groaned, his hand sliding into your hair, not pushing, just resting there, fingers flexing every time you swallowed around him. His thighs were tense, his abs flexing under the soft glow of the bedroom light as you bobbed your head, letting saliva drip down his shaft, making everything slick and messy.

“Jesus—” His voice cracked when you took him even deeper, your throat constricting as you forced yourself to take more. “God, you’re—fuck, you’re so good at that.”

His praise made heat pool between your legs, and you moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk involuntarily.

“Shit, shit—” His grip tightened in your hair as you started to work him harder, stroking him with your hand in tandem with your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head, sucking him in deep before pulling off just to tease him with kitten licks.

Bucky’s breath hitched. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, sweat beading along his collarbone as he fought for control. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last.”

You pulled off with a wet pop, grinning as you pumped him with your hand. “Maybe I don’t want you to last.”

His eyes darkened. “You tryin’ to kill me, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “I want you to lose control.”

Bucky let out a strangled sound, his cock twitching in your grip. “Oh, fuck.”

Before he could even think about stopping you, you took him back into your mouth, sucking him even harder, your tongue tracing every ridge and vein, your hand twisting at the base. The lewd, wet sounds filled the room, mixing with Bucky’s harsh breaths, the curses falling from his lips.

“Shit—” His head fell back, eyes screwing shut as his thighs trembled. “I—baby, I’m gonna—”

You didn’t stop. You wanted it, wanted to taste him, to push him over the edge, and when you swallowed around him, that was it.

Bucky came with a broken moan, his body shuddering as he spilled into your mouth. You took it all, swallowing every drop, your tongue swirling to clean him up before you finally pulled back, pressing a teasing kiss to his sensitive tip.

Bucky was still catching his breath when you climbed up his body, straddling his lap. His hands found your hips instinctively, his fingers pressing into your skin as he looked up at you with blown pupils, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” he rasped.

You smirked, grinding your soaked core against his still-hard cock. “You’re still hard.”

Bucky groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “You ride me right now, I swear to God, I’ll—”

You didn’t let him finish. You reached between your bodies, lining him up before sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

Bucky’s jaw went slack. “Holy—fuck.”

You gasped, the stretch stealing your breath, your fingers digging into his chest for balance. He filled you so perfectly, so deep, the pressure overwhelming in the best way.

Bucky groaned, his hands dragging up your waist. “Goddamn, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

You started to move, rolling your hips, setting a slow, teasing rhythm that had Bucky cursing under his breath. His hands gripped your ass, guiding you, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding it together.

“Faster,” he gritted out.

You obeyed, picking up the pace, bouncing on him as your nails raked down his chest. He was so deep, hitting the perfect spot with every movement, and when he reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight circles, you cried out, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

The pleasure coiled tight, your body tensing before it snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You moaned his name, your walls pulsing around him as you clung to him, trembling.

Bucky wasn’t far behind. He gritted out a curse, his hands gripping you tight as he drove up into you a few more times before he spilled deep inside you, his whole body tensing beneath you.

You both stayed there, panting, your forehead resting against his.

Bucky let out a breathless laugh. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But what a way to go.”

Bucky let out a breathless laugh. “That was…”

You grinned. “Good?”

He reached for you, pulling you back up and kissing you, his tongue sweeping against yours. “More than good.”

You curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and for the first time in days, you felt safe.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’ve got you.”

And you believed him.

You closed your eyes and within minutes, you drifted into a well-needed sleep. But Bucky? Bucky was wide awake. He could not shake the thoughts of a new super soldier serum, and he could not rest until he got clarity. He didn’t even care about the campaign anymore, all he cared about was you and the possibility that more unconsenting people — more soldiers — would have to go through what he went through for seventy years.

Bucky lay there staring at the ceiling, occasionally picking up his phone to check the headlines, a reminder of the threats to you and your career.  When the room was dark and your breathing had evened out, Bucky slipped out of bed. He dressed quickly, his movements silent, and with one last glance at you, he slipped out the door.

Sam Wilson, none other than Captain America himself, was waiting for him in a parked car outside.

Bucky followed Sam through the dimly lit parking lot, the cool night air doing little to settle the storm in his chest. He hadn’t told you where he was going, just slipped out while you were sleeping, your body curled up in the sheets that still smelled like him. He hated leaving you like that, but this—this was bigger than both of you.

Sam leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed as he studied Bucky with sharp, knowing eyes. “You look like shit,” Sam remarked. “Rough night?”

Bucky huffed out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that.”

Sam nodded, then got straight to business. “There’s a gala happening for Ross tonight. Big event, all the right people in the room. And guess who got an invite?” He tapped his chest. “Captain America, plus one.”

Bucky arched a brow. “You asking me to be your date?”

“I’m asking you to help me dig up whatever the hell Ross is hiding,” Sam corrected. “I was gonna take Joaquin, but I think you need to be there more than he does.”

Bucky exhaled slowly. “You really think we’ll find something?”

Sam gave him a look. “I know we will.”

That was all the convincing Bucky needed.

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The sunlight creeping through the curtains was what finally pulled you from sleep. You reached across the bed instinctively, but your hand met cold sheets. Your brows furrowed as your fingers skimmed the emptiness beside you.

“Bucky?” you murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Silence.

You sat up, glancing around the dimly lit bedroom. His clothes were gone. The shoes he’d left by the door—gone. You reached for your phone, a strange weight settling in your chest as you unlocked it. No messages. No missed calls.

What the hell?

Your fingers hovered over his contact, debating whether to call him. Instead, you sent a text:

Where did you go?

A few minutes passed. No response.

Another message.

Bucky?

Still nothing. The weight in your chest grew heavier.

Frustration gnawed at you as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, standing abruptly. Did he just leave? No note, no explanation? After everything last night?

You pulled on a hoodie, shoving your phone in the pocket before heading toward the kitchen. You needed coffee. And maybe an explanation for why Bucky Barnes had a habit of disappearing on you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave @pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs @abitofblues @ferretferretferret @helen-2003 @notreallythatlost @opheliagreenaway

[if you want to be added or removed from taglist, lmk<3]

[houseofaegon]

I just finished editing the NASTIEST filthiest toe curling mouth watering back arching hole clenching Bucky Barnes smut I’ve eveeeeeerrrrr written in my entire life. God have mercy!!!!

[houseofaegon]

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” Me next me next me next!!!!!🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

classified desire [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: In Tokyo for an international conference, you watch Bucky command the stage with effortless confidence—until a question about his love life throws you off balance. His public denial of looking for love stings more than it should, leaving you questioning everything between you. But back at the hotel, tension boils over into heated confessions and even hotter passion, forcing you both to confront the truth you’ve been running from: this was never just a distraction.

Word Count: 1800

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, p in v, bit of bdsm vibes/slapping, rough sex, intimacy, miscommunications, slow burn with sex

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The conference hall was buzzing with flashing cameras and murmuring reporters, the air thick with anticipation. You stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, watching as Bucky Barnes took the stage with the effortless confidence of a seasoned politician. Dressed in a crisp navy suit, his tie perfectly knotted, he was the picture of control—composed, articulate, and undeniably commanding.

The panel began smoothly, with Bucky fielding questions about foreign policy, trade relations, and security initiatives. His answers were precise, measured, and laced with just the right amount of charisma. You knew he was good at this—of course, you did. But seeing him like this, holding an entire room captive with nothing but his presence and his words, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost unfair how attractive he was when he was in his element.

Then, the inevitable happened.

"Congressman Barnes," a journalist called out. "You’ve been in the public eye for quite some time now, and naturally, people are curious. Is there anyone special in your life? Any plans to settle down?"

The question sent a jolt through you, your grip tightening on your clipboard. You kept your expression neutral, but your heart pounded as you waited for his answer.

Bucky gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I appreciate the curiosity, but no, I’m not looking for love. My focus is on my work. There’s a lot to be done, and right now, that’s where all my attention is."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to remain composed. It was the answer he had to give, the one that made sense. But it still stung. You knew what last night had been—what all of this was. Just a distraction. You had told yourself the same thing, hadn’t you? So why did it feel like a punch to the gut?

The conference continued, but you barely registered the rest of it. Your eyes remained on Bucky, on the way he commanded the room, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t afford to let your feelings get in the way. You were here to do a job, and that was all this had ever been.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The car ride back to the hotel was silent. Bucky sat beside you, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh, but he didn’t say a word. You didn’t either. It was better that way.

By the time you arrived, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones. You should have gone straight to your room, should have put as much distance as possible between you and the man who had just reminded the entire world that love was the last thing on his mind.

But instead, you found yourself outside his door.

He opened it without a word, stepping aside to let you in. The tension was immediate—thick, suffocating. You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Nice answer today," you said, your voice clipped. "Really convincing."

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. The conference had fallen over an hour long, and yet Bucky knew exactly which question you were referring to. ”What did you want me to say?"

Your breath caught at the suddenness in his voice, but you recovered quickly. "I wanted you to be honest.” You said plainly. 

"I was honest," he shot back, stepping closer. "I can’t afford to be looking for love, remember? Isn’t that what you said? That this—whatever this is—needs to wait?"

You hated the way your stomach twisted at his words, hated the way you had set this boundary and were now resenting him for respecting it. "I don’t know what you want from me, Bucky."

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening. "I want you. Fuck, I always want you. But I’m not going to beg for something you’re not ready to give."

The room felt too small, the air too hot. Every muscle in your body was tense, fighting against the pull, against the overwhelming desire that had never gone away.

Then Bucky moved. One second, there was space between you. The next, he had you against the wall, his hands framing your face, his mouth crashing into yours.

The kiss was searing—deep, desperate, full of all the things neither of you had been able to say. You whimpered against his lips, fingers fisting his shirt as he pressed his body against yours, erasing every inch of space.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your skin, just like he had on the plane.

You didn’t.

When he kissed you, it was like the world stopped spinning, and nothing else mattered. Your job didn’t matter, his job didn’t matter, it was like you were the only two people and in this very moment you made up one whole. That was it — that was his superpower. 

Instead, you pulled him closer, capturing his lips again in a kiss that stole your breath. That was all the confirmation he needed. He lifted you easily, damn Super Soldier, carrying you across the room before lowering you onto the plush hotel bed. You sighed in contentment as you hit the warm sheets, enveloping into the softness of them.

Within seconds, your blouse and bra were off and discarded haphazardly on the floor. 

Bucky’s hands roamed, mapping every curve and every inch of skin he could reach. His mouth followed, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. When he reached the waistband of your skirt, he paused, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, voice thick with need.

“Well, it’s been about ten hours since the plane…” you retorted smartly, but he was quick to wipe the smirk off your face when he pinched at your nipple.

You shivered as he peeled away the rest of your clothes, his hands reverent, his touch almost worshipful. He took his time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that spilled from your lips as he explored your body with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue.

Bucky wasted no time, getting onto his knees and pulling your legs up so they rested on his shoulders. He towered over you, his metal hand reaching to cup at your face. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” He growled, pushing his cock between your folds teasingly. “Eye contact, doll.”

Just like the plane, by the time he finally slid inside you, you were already unraveling. He moved slowly at first, dragging out every sensation, making sure you felt every inch of him. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered your name like a prayer.

"You feel so fucking perfect," he groaned, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips tightening. "Like you were made for me."

Your nails raked down his back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Bucky—"

You closed your eyes briefly, and you felt a sharp sting come to your face. Bucky slapped you, and his thumb grazed your cheekbone as he kept you pinned down. “I told you, eyes open. On me at all times.”

“Eyes on you,” you repeated breathlessly, focusing extra hard. His eyes were so beautiful, blue like the ocean yet dark with lust. The eye contact made it feel even more intimate than it had before. It was like Bucky was reading your mind, staring into your soul. Often, you struggled to read Bucky’s expression, but he always knew exactly what was going on in your head. 108 years of experience on this planet would do that to someone, you guessed.

“Mhm, I’m close.” Bucky groaned, his dark brown hair sticking to his skin as he picked up his pace, faster and deeper.

“Fill me up,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to your lips for another messy kiss. “I want to feel you inside of me for the rest of the day, leaking out…”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky cursed before spilling his seed into you. You cried and arched your back into him, your walls clamping down on his cock, milking him for all he had. “You’re perfect.”

The words made you feel warm inside.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the words. 

As your bodies cooled and your breathing evened out, silence settled over the room once more. Bucky lay beside you, one arm draped over your waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

"Say something," he murmured after a while.

You stared at the ceiling, your heart still racing. "I don’t know what to say."

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. "Then just listen. Because I need you to understand something."

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Bucky exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. "I meant what I said today. I wasn’t lying—I can’t afford to look for love. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I don’t want you."

Your throat tightened. "Bucky—"

"No," he cut you off gently, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You keep saying this has to wait, that it can’t happen now. But you’re the only one putting those rules in place. Not me. I’m not afraid of what this means. I’m not afraid of loving you. So if you are, just tell me. But don’t pretend like this doesn’t matter."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You had spent so long convincing yourself that this couldn’t happen, that it would ruin everything. But lying here, wrapped up in him, listening to him say the things you had been too afraid to admit…

You realised you had already lost the fight.

You reached for him, cupping his face, pulling him into a kiss that was soft, lingering. When you pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but his grip on you tightened, as if afraid you would disappear.

"I don’t want to be afraid anymore," you whispered. “Bucky… I—“

A loud knock at the door startled both you and the Congressman. You flinched at the noise, and Bucky’s grip on you tightened. 

“Mr. Barnes, dinner reservation has been set for 7pm.” A soft voice called out. The voice belonged to Tara, Bucky’s campaign manager. She had flew out to Tokyo earlier in the day to organise the press conference. 

You lay there, frozen in his arms. “You were saying…?” Bucky coughed awkwardly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “We have dinner reservations?”

“I guess so.” Bucky sighed, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” You thought out loud.

“Well then, we best go shopping.” Bucky smiled before pulling both himself and you out of the bed.

You came so close. So close to admitting your feelings to yourself but maybe now wasn’t the right time. This felt so new and fresh, and the startling of Tara banging on the door just reminded you that your job had to come first. Without this job, you had nothing.

You just hoped that Bucky would understand. 

---------------------- <3

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @mybuckynotyours @sunday-bug @bunnyfella

[houseofaegon]

literally him

[houseofaegon]

I want to give Bucky Barnes the most nastiest, sickening, paralyzing, dirtiest, soul taking, mouth watering, leg trembling, jaw dropping, heart racing, toe curling, gut wrenching, stomach turning, eye rolling, tongue bitting, back breaking, finger twitching, ball clenching, messiest head know to man kind.

out of trouble

tfatws!bucky barnes x female!reader

summary: bucky and you had a thing for each other. there were always those looks and the tension between you—but you never crossed the line. until one night, in a club in madripoor, the walls started to break.

warnings: 18+ MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT !! smut, oral (m receiving), handjob, making out in a public place, you get veeery seductive, heavy dancing, bucky is kinda obsessed with you, idk if there’s more; i’m really bad at writing warnings

word count: 2.0K

note: holy shit, james bucky barnes. what the hell are you doing to us?? can’t stop thinking about him, he’s on my mind 24/7. maybe this has potential to be a series??—lmk what you think about it. 🙂‍↕️ now, enough of my talking and enjoy!! <3

english isn’t my first language.

❥ dedicated to @mandoalorian and @houseofaegon

The safe house was small—the perfect place to hide. Thanks to Sharon, you had survived the gunfire a few hours ago, and now had the chance to rethink your plan.

Slowly, you let your fingers glide over the clothes Sharon had in her closet. She had offered you to borrow some—so you could wear something other instead of the black dress.

And you were thankful for that, because it was so tight that it pushed several parts of your body together, especially your breasts.

"You good?"

The sudden sound of a voice made you turn around, and your gaze landed on Sam, who was watching you with a worried expression.

"Yes, everything’s fine, Sam," you replied with a soft smile, and he gave you a quick nod. He was always so caring when it came to you.

You shook your head still with a smile on your face as he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone again.

After another look into the closet, you found a black jeans, a matching shirt, and a pair of shoes you could wear instead of the high heels.

You were just trying to get out of the dress, fiddling with the zipper, when another knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," you said, and seconds later, you saw Bucky poke his head into the room.

"Just wanted to check if you’re okay," he explained, furrowing his brows when he saw you struggling with your dress.

"You need help with that?"

His question was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how far he could go. But you just wanted to get rid of the dress, so you nodded.

"Please. I can’t… get off the zipper", you murmured, and Bucky smiled as he stepped closer.

"C’mere…" he chuckled, and you turned your back to him, lifting your hair so he had better access.

Your breath hitched as he slowly pulled the zipper down, and the cold metal of his left hand brushed ever so lightly against your skin. A shiver ran down your spine, and you bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan of relief as you finally felt free again.

"Thank you," you murmured, turning to face him.

The second your gaze met his, you stopped breathing. His eyes had darkened, and his own breathing had quickened, as if he was fighting the urge to lose control.

You felt the tension growing between you, and you swallowed hard. It wasn’t the first time, that you and Bucky looked at each other like that—whether it was during a mission or when you argued with Sam over the most random things. But there had never been this. There had never been lust.

Not until now.

You let your hair fall back over your shoulders and looked up at him with innocent eyes. You had wanted him from the moment you first saw him. And now you knew that he wanted you too.

"That thing in the bar…" you whispered, raising your hand and placing it lightly on his chest. "Fighting those men, playing the role of the Winter Soldier… it was really hard to not want you…"

As you spoke, your hand drifted down his chest, over the fabric of his black shirt, which stretched deliciously over it.

Bucky closed his eyes, a low grumbling in his chest, and you smiled.

"Tell me… how bad do you want me?" you teased, and his eyes snapped open again.

"You have no idea."

Then he was on you, kissing the air from your lungs. You kissed him back just as fiercely, burying your fingers in his hair, clutching at it like your life depended on it. His hands gripped your face, holding it into place as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

A little moan escaped your lips, and he pushed you backward until your calves hit the edge of the bed.

"Bucky…" you gasped but he silenced you with another kiss.

"You asked me how bad I want you. Let me show it to you," he murmured.

You let out a soft laugh.

"Sam’s going to kill us. We’re supposed to find the man responsible for the serum," you whispered, nuzzling your cheek into his palm.

"I don’t care what Sam says," Bucky replied.

And suddenly, you were on your back and he was above you.

You laughed again, the quiet sound making the soldier smile, and you tilted your head slightly to the side.

"You do realize we’re lying on Sharon’s bed, right?" you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re unbelievable," he muttered, rolling off you and helping you sit up again.

"Yes but that’s why you can’t get me out of your head."

With a playful grin, you stood up and nodded toward the door.

"I need to get changed. See you outside."

Bucky let his gaze trail down your body one last time before shaking his head with a smirk and leaving the room.

The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and sex when you stepped into the club.

Flashing lights and the deep thrum of the bass made it nearly impossible to understand anything.

"I need to talk to some people to find what we’re looking for. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party," Sharon explained, raising her voice over the music, and let her gaze wander between each of you.

"And please, stay out of trouble. I see what i can find."

A final, intense look into your eyes, then she turned and disappeared in the sea of dancing bodies.

"Looks like we got to have some fun," you said with a tight smile, and started to turn away—only to be stopped by a firm grip on your wrist.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

Bucky’s voice was right next to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Staying out of trouble and going dancing, or what does it look like?" you hissed, trying to pull free. But his grip only tightened.

"The hell you will. You’re staying with me."

There was something in his tone. Something that awakened a rebellious spark inside you.

So you ripped your hand from his grasp, stepping backward slowly, your eyes never leaving his.

"I won’t. And there’s nothing you can do about it," you shot back, your voice barely hearable over the pounding of the bass.

Then, biting your lip, you turned your back on him and let yourself move with the crowd, bodies pressing in from all sides. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the rhythm.

And you knew that he was watching you. His gaze literally burned into your body—into your soul—as you swayed your hips to the music.

You let yourself over to the beat, your head falling back—and suddenly, he was there. His hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against his body.

"Damn, sweetheart. You said you wanted to stay out of trouble," he growled into your ear, making you smile wickedly. "How do you think this will end, if you keep driving me nuts?"

Slowly, you turned to face him, your fingers brushing over the smooth fabric of his suit jacket. Then, with a sudden tug, you fisted the material in your hands, pulling him down into a desperate kiss.

The moment your lips met, you opened your mouth, tongues colliding—fighting an endless battle for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, the sound lost beneath the bass, but Bucky felt it.

"Do you have any idea, what I want to do with you right now?"

You shook your head, playing innocent—but he wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

His hand slid down the side of your leg before slipping behind your knee. With one swift motion, he lifted your leg, pressing it against his hip.

He looked you in the eyes—so intensely that, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. Slowly, he let you dip backward, holding you firmly in his arms.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his mouth found your pulse point, sucking on it softly.

Then, without a warning, he pulled you upright again, his lips brushed against your ear. You shivered as you felt him—hard and pressing insistently against your core.

"You shouldn’t have taken off that dress," he murmured. "Would’ve made it so much easier for me to fuck you."

A soft bite into your earlobe made you whimper, and you decided you’ve had enough.

"Damn you, James," you hissed, yanking your leg down and stepping away from him.

While doing so, you grabbed his hand and pulled him with you—straight to the restrooms.

The moment that you were out of sight, your back slammed against the wall, and his lips were on yours again.

"Bucky—" you moaned as he kissed his way down your throat, his teeth grazing over the soft skin of your neck. "Please—"

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pulled back slightly. "So now you get needy?" he asked, amused, his lips brushing against your ear as he inhaled sharply. "You damn little tease."

"You damn Super Soldier," you breathed, your fingers already working at his belt as your lips met his in another desperate kiss.

A whimper escaped you as he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking it slightly into his mouth.

As soon as his belt was undone, you wasted no time, tugging his jeans and boxers down in one eager motion, freeing his already hard cock.

"You really think I’ll give you what you want after you were such a tease?" he mused, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes widened as he gently pushed you down onto your knees.

"Better hurry, sweetheart. Don’t know how much time we have before someone walks in," he murmured, watching as you licked your lips.

His cock stood thick and ready before you, precum already glistening at the tip. You pressed a soft kiss against it, making him hum in approval.

There was no time to waste. You dragged your tongue along the vein on the underside, feeling him twitch under your touch while your fingers closed around him, slowly moving up and down.

Bucky let out a low grunt, his fingers threading into your hair, gripping it tightly. "Damn, doll," he muttered as you liked up the curve before pressing another kiss to the swollen tip.

Then, without hesitation, you took him into your mouth—deep, all the way until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck—" Bucky let his head thud back against the wall, his breath hitching as you gagged slightly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Your nails dug into his things, making him hiss and buck his hips foward. A strangled sound escaped him—one you had never heard before—and you moaned around his length, sending vibrations through his body.

You set a steady rhythm, bobbing your head, and felt him against the back of your throat with each stroke.

It wasn’t long before Bucky lost control. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips moving on their own, mindlessly fucking your mouth.

"Oh god—" he groaned, and without any warning, his release spilled hot down your throat.

You swallowed every little drop he offered you, holding onto him as he trembled, his grip finally loosening from your hair.

As he caught his breath, you licked your lips, and got back on your feet again while Bucky pulled his boxers and jeans back up.

"You are really somethin’ else, you know that?" he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. Gently, he took your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that had streamed down your cheeks from the force of getting fucked in the mouth.

You bit your bottom lip, looking deep into his steel blue eyes, just as the restroom door swung open.

A young woman stepped inside, freezing mid-step. Her gaze flickered between the two of you, her face turning red before she hurried to the ladies’ room without a word.

A little smile was on your face when you looked back at Bucky, then you both burst into laughter.

When you had calmed down again, you found his gaze on you—soft, yet laced with something dark. Something promising.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper against your lips.

"Don’t think this was all. Just wait until we get back home."

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𑣲

© 2025 notreallythatlost

[houseofaegon]

Have you ever tried… this one?

[houseofaegon]

something’s off… oh nvm it’s my clothes!!!!🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

teaching lessons

bucky barnes x female!reader

summary: bucky gives you payback for what you did on a mission—much to your pleasure.

warnings: 18+ minors please do not interact !! smut only with a little plot, oral (f receiving), fingering, biting, some dirty talk, bucky is literally a warning for himself

word count: 0.9K

note: i got inspired by the scene from the gif and “you touch that again, i’ll kill you.” just a short drabble, but i think this could be the start of something great—i have soo many ideas! lmk if you liked it! your feedback is always welcome. xx

tags: @houseofaegon & @mandoalorian ఇ

english isn’t my first language.

Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier. To some, he might seem ice-cold; to others, rough.

But not to you.

He was nothing like this, when he was with you.

Not when he looked at you like your safety was the one thing in his life that really mattered. Not when you were beneath him, his hands and mouth on your body, or his head between your legs. Just like now.

Your moans filled the room, and echoed off the walls with your hands buried in his hair as his tongue thrust into you. "Bucky…" you whimpered his name, arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, and you were desperate for release. But he wasn’t ready to give it to you.

Not yet.

With a smug smile, the soldier withdrew from your core, letting his wet lips wander over the skin of your thigh. He smeared your arousal there, making you shiver with excitement. "Bucky—" His name was all you could think of and you sat up slightly, to look at him. His eyes were locked on yours, pupils blown, and you bit your bottom lip.

"You know why I’m doing this, right?" he growled, and you had to swallow hard. Of course you knew, but you decided to act innocent. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you answered, earning another low growl from him. "Wrong answer," he said, his voice dangerous and low. And just like that, he let a single finger slide through your folds, making your head fall back with a moan.

"Be a good girl and answer my question, doll." Something about the way he said that nickname he gave you made you shiver, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

Just like he wasn’t ready to give you yours.

Suddenly, he thrust his finger into you, and you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Another finger joined the first and started to move. Deliciously slow—and he knew exactly what he was doing to you with that.

Your body squirmed on the mattress as you tried to find a clear thought, but it seemed impossible. Your fingers clenched into the soft sheets underneath you, trying to find hold in them.

Then you heard his voice next to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want to hear what you did. Making me go halfway insane," he whispered, his voice deep with desire, making you whimper. A jolt of electricity went through your body, when his thumb brushed over your clit, and you knew that you could come right here and now. But Bucky could feel that you were getting closer and stopped moving his fingers.

"Don’t you dare cum, doll. First, I want to hear it from you." You could swear that his voice got even deeper, and you bit your bottom lip again.

"You know it was just for the mission, Bucky. Nothing more," you whispered, but he wasn’t quite happy with that. His lips found the skin of your neck, where he slowly started to kiss. "Yeah, just the mission…" he murmured, his breath hot, while his metal hand pressed into the skin of your hip. "It was just for the mission when you flirted with Zemo, like I wasn’t there. Making him blush like a little boy." You hissed when he bit into your neck, and your hand closed around his biceps.

"He’s fucked up and you know that," you said and Bucky let out a sarcastic laugh. "You haven’t seen the looks he gave you. Like he wanted to claim you. But you’re not his. You’re mine." With that he started to move his fingers again, making you moan even louder than before. Bucky buried his face in your neck, while he finger fucked you, having you soon shaking and whimpering beneath him again.

"Tell me, does he make you feel good like that? Does he give you the pleasure that I give you?" His mouth was on your skin again, sucking on the already sore place where he bit you before.

You knew that it would leave a mark. And you knew that everyone would look at it the next day. But it only showed to whom you belonged.

"Bucky— please—I’m gonna…" you cried out. "Cum for me, doll." You heard his voice, deep and raspy next to your ear, and with a breathless whimper, you felt your orgasm crashing down on you. Your body trembled underneath him, and a single tear escaped your eye, while he helped you through it.

A soft touch on your cheek made your eyes fly open, and you smiled at Bucky, who looked at you with a soft expression on his face. "You know that it meant nothing, right?" you whispered, and he brushed the tear away from your cheek. "I know," Bucky muttered, and his lips found yours in a soft kiss.

But seconds later he pulled away again, giving you a challenging look. "But if he touches you again, I’ll kill him," he promised, and you laughed quietly, until your lips touched in another kiss.

the end.

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𑣲

© 2025 notreallythatlost