#Marvel Fanfic

[barnesafterglow]

the art of missing someone

summary: bucky barnes was a lot, but he would always be yours

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief college then modern au, little bit of angst, don't ask if this is based off personal experience i will cry, smut (MINORS DNI!) [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)], confessions, idk man i'm just here

a/n: first fic of 2025!! this was a bitch and i still lowkey hate it but it is what it is

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole.

In a funny way, really, but an asshole through and through and, for some reason, that did it for you.

It did it for you so much, in fact, that you had been going in circles with him for years now. You met him originally at a party in college; you didn’t know anyone except for your roommate, Natasha, and she introduced you. You immediately gravitated towards him, with his quick wit and sharp opinions, you felt like you could talk to him about anything. He kept close to you the entire night, getting more touchy as the evening dragged on, until the tipping point came.

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared.

Searching your eyes for permission, he bent his head down and his lips met yours and that was really the beginning of it all. It was unlike any kiss you had ever had, sweet but a little desperate and you craved more.

It became a thing, after that. You would see Bucky at a party, make nice for a few hours, then end up in a closet or empty bedroom making out until someone came to find you.

But more than that, Bucky became your friend. He was who you talked to in your darkest moments, who you sent stupid videos to, everything, and you liked it like that.

That is, until everything got turned on its head.

It happened right after graduation. You had just moved into your own apartment and were waiting for Bucky to come over for movie night. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the communication very much lacking, but you figured it was just a busy time for both of you and once you got settled, everything would be fine.

That is, until you got a phone call as you closed the microwave door and started the popcorn. Immediately seeing Bucky’s name, you wiped your hands and answered.

“Hey, you almost here?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“I- I don’t know how to say this,” Bucky started, and you found yourself growing nervous. There was nothing you and Bucky couldn’t talk about. Well, almost nothing. “Me and Dot, well, we’ve been talking and…”

His voice trailed off, the line going quiet again. But you were going to make him say it.

“We’re getting back together. She really wants to make it work this time.”

And there it was. Dot was Bucky’s on again-off again for the last several years, stretching back to before you even knew him, and it was a sore spot in your friendship. They had mostly been “off” in the time you’d known him, save for a few memorable occasions where she wormed her way back into his life for a couple weeks just to break his heart all over again. It was safe to say she was not your favorite person, and you certainly weren’t hers.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I know what you’re thinking.” He actually probably had no clue how evil the thoughts you had were, but you weren’t going to enlighten him. “But it’s serious this time, we’ve been talking since graduation and we’re both ready to give this a real shot, without all the bullshit.”

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with.

You could hear his relieved laugh on the other end, and you felt your stomach give an odd lurch, like someone had pulled a carpet out from under you.

“I knew you would understand, thank you.”

“Of course, Buck. Now, what about movie night?”

Another beat of silence, then, just like you knew it would happen:

“I can’t, Dot is coming over.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

-

It didn’t even happen slowly, is the worst part. You didn’t see Bucky that night, or any night for the weeks that followed. It wasn’t until you saw him at the coffee shop by your apartment that you were able to talk to him.

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on.

“I’m just trying to keep Dot happy.”

“By staying away from me?” You were frustrated, sure, but under that really you were just hurt. “Listen, you know I don’t like her, but I would never ask you to choose between us. That’s not fair and if she cared about you like she said she does, then she wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not like that!” His voice was raising, just a little, so you knew he was just being defensive. He must have heard it too because he cleared his throat, voicing going back to normal. “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over.

As you passed the threshold to the coffee shop back onto the sidewalk, you pulled your headphones on, ignoring the bustle of the city and Bucky still watching you leave through the window.

-

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life. 

Almost a year passed, and you moved on in all the ways you could. You heard Bucky moved back across the river to Brooklyn and that was about all you knew; your friends avoided the mention of even his name if they could help it, even though you knew at the very least Steve and Natasha still talked to him.

You just hoped he was happy, no matter what he was doing.

It was a cold January night when the notification came through. Wanda had recently convinced you to get on a dating app, even though you were perfectly content being single, thank you, but you had to admit the attention didn’t hurt.

You weren’t expecting much when your phone chimed and you unlocked it without even looking at the notification. Which is how you came face to face with Bucky’s Hinge profile, and a message attached to a picture of you that you knew he had taken saying: hey, you look familiar.

Was that really how he was going to make amends, on a dating app?

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding.

oh, i know you?

if you want to

And, well, that was the thing. You did want to. No matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt you, he was still your best friend. Your Bucky.

Instead of answering, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t opened in months and pressed call. It rang one time before a familiar voice flooded the other end.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Buck.”

It was a healthy conversation, if you were being honest. Bucky apologized, told you he and Dot were done for good this time and, against your better judgment, you accepted it. You talked for hours after that, catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories, until you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s late,” you said as you put the phone back to your ear. “Almost midnight.”

And then, the words you dreaded but wanted desperately.

“Come over.”

“To Brooklyn? Buck I can’t take the subway this late.”

“I’ll pay for your Uber. Just come over.” You could hear the words he wanted to say, the ones on the tip of his tongue that he just wouldn’t force out.

“Well, I did miss you.” You tried to press it, to make him say it, but he only hummed on the other end.

“So is that a yes?”

You looked down at yourself, cozied up in sweatpants and a hoodie that you were almost entirely sure was Bucky’s, and sighed.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, your Uber will be there in 8 minutes.”

You didn’t have time to wonder how he got your new address - probably one of your mutual friends, maybe he had been keeping more tabs on you than you had on him - and shot up from the couch. With no time to change, you headed to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before taming your hair in the best way you could. As you were stuffing some clothes in an overnight bag - just in case, you told yourself - your phone chimed with a text from Bucky that your Uber had arrived. 

In a whirlwind, you rushed to the car where the driver seemed very put off at having to wait a whole 90 seconds for you to walk four flights of stairs, and slid in.

The whole ride there you were nervous. The thing with Bucky was, despite many drunken hookups, you’d never actually had sex. You weren’t really sure why, just that it had never happened and you had been grateful for it in the long run. You weren’t even sure if it would happen tonight, if he still wanted you like that. Even with all your talking and catching up, you hadn’t been brave enough to ask what this meant.

At nearly 1am, your Uber pulled up outside a beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and, there on the front porch, stood Bucky.

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you. 

“Hey,” he said softly into your hair. “Come on in.”

Bucky’s house was so far from his old college apartment it was frightening, yet it couldn’t have felt more like Bucky. More like home. 

You took in your surroundings, shelves of books and vintage furniture and warm tones, it was almost like stepping back into your own place, the aesthetics were so similar. That was the funny feeling in your chest, you were sure.

Eventually, you ended up on Bucky’s couch with some superhero movie on, not really watching it but still grateful for its background noise to fill the room with each lull in the conversation. Not that there were many, one thing that came easy with Bucky had always been talking - although neither of you did much of that when it really mattered; you figured you could put that out of your mind for now. 

Over the course of the movie, you and Bucky shifted closer together until your thighs were pressed flush and you could feel the air from each of his exaggerated hand movements. It wasn’t until a wayward wave nearly grazed your nose that you truly realized how close you had become, and the sight of Bucky’s eyes shifting subtly to your lips has your self restraint at an all time low.

Fuck it, you thought. You had wanted this for so long, but you also knew you could live without Bucky if everything went tits up. It was a sad thought, that, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go. With every bit of courage you had, you let your hand float up to cup Bucky’s cheek, eyes searching for any sort of hesitation. When you found none, you leaned forward to close the admittedly small gap between your lips.

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted. 

Suddenly you were pulled in Bucky’s lap, legs straddling his, lips desperate for a taste of what you’d missed for so long. It was everything you hadn’t let yourself wish for, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to be missing it again anytime soon.

It wasn’t until your shirts were on the floor and Bucky was making quick work of your clasped bra that you thought maybe it would be smart to just slow down. Just for a second, just to get your bearings. 

An honest to god whine fell from his lips as you pulled back, stopping his hands from undressing you any further. 

“Buck,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his, hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Though you supposed he was, to you at least. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” His voice trailed off, obviously unsure of himself even though this at least was familiar territory. What was to come next, however, was not. “I can’t go another day without making you mine.”

Your core tightened at the words, vivid memories of what Bucky’s hands and mouth could do; fantasies of what else he could do invaded as well as suddenly talking didn’t seem like a priority anymore. 

“Take me to bed.” And that was all he needed. 

Bucky scooped you up bridal style, carrying you across the threshold of his bedroom and laying you gently on his bed. Your eyes darted around, wanting more of snippets of the life Bucky had built here, but you were quickly distracted by his body covering yours, the weight of him pressed between your thighs was comforting and intoxicating. 

Bucky’s touch proved even more distracting as he shed you of your bra, mouth immediately latching to one nipple, the little nips and sucks enough to drive you crazy on their own, while his hands pinched at the other. He continued his assault until you were dizzy with want, then he trailed down your body with his mouth, not leaving an inch of skin undiscovered until he reached the waistband of your sweatpants.

He pulled them down just an inch, then his eyes shot up to meet yours at the discovery. 

“No underwear?” His voice was deep, husky, almost fucked out if you really thought about it. It was a thrill that your hold on him was so tight that just the thought of you without underwear was enough to leave him reeling just a little bit. 

You batted your eyes innocently. “Someone didn’t give me much warning about my Uber, I apologize.”

The giggle in your voice suggested the insincerity of your apology, but it didn’t deter Bucky as he pulled your pants from your body, mouth and hands still exploring. 

His fingers traced unknown patterns along your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart until you were fully exposed to him. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you had never been in this position before. You had, of course, but never sober, and never with Bucky looking at you so attentively - like he was going to eat you alive. 

It was intense, having Bucky’s eyes bore into you as he lowered his mouth to your core, starting with gentle kitten licks until your hips were bucking, searching for more friction. One of his hands pinned your hips to the bed, while the other slipped through your folds, spreading spit and slick, before he slipped one inside of you. Then two, then three, until you were begging for release.

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going. 

It was feverish, like he couldn’t get enough of your pleasure, and each twitch and moan encouraged him until your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away from your spent body.

He let out a protest, but you silenced it by pressing your lips to his, moaning at the taste of yourself as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You were lost in the sensation, letting yourself be manhandled until you were once again in Bucky’s lap. Sometime while you had been transported to another planet, his pants had been shed and you were oh so close to getting everything you ever wanted. 

With your mouth still pressed to his, you rolled your hips, feeling the weight of him sliding along you. You kept at it, teasing and grinding until he thrust his hips and there it was; one slight adjustment and the feeling of Bucky stretching you out to was more overwhelming than you could have imagined.

Your hips stilled, as did Bucky’s, letting you adjust to him until you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, your way of telling him that you were okay, that he could move.

His thrusts started slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until you were begging for more. When his hands stopped roaming to grip your hips tightly, you knew you were done for.

Bucky held you in place, his hips snapping up to fuck into you and all you could do was hold on for the ride. 

You were so overwhelmed you almost missed Bucky’s words, mixed in with his moans, but once you caught them, they were as clear as day:

I missed you.

Over and over, Bucky was repeating the words, interspersed with groans and heavy panting, but your heart restricted regardless 

He missed you. Bucky missed you.

With your thoughts such a jumbled mess, reveling in the fact that this was really happening, your orgasm snuck up on you. One second you were floating on the high of Bucky and the next you were crashing, falling, and he was right there to catch you as you came down.

His hips slowed, stuttering as he spilled into you with one final thrust.

For a moment, the world around you didn’t exist. All there was was this moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and your head buried in his shoulder. Everything came back at once: your harsh breaths, the noise of the TV far away in the living room, and Bucky’s hushed whispers as he held you.

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 64

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,775ish

Summary: Laura plans a movie night, hoping it forces you and Logan to start making moves.

Notes: It's definitely a shorter chapter, but I hope it's still good! I'm so excited to show you the rest of the series. Ending 2 will have two chapter 71's (the final chapter(s)). One will be an angsty ending and one will be a fluffy one.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Laura was watching you work in the kitchen the following morning.

“So…” She dragged out, “You’re calling him Lo now…”

“It’s just a nickname, Laura,” you brushed off. “Like how I call you kiddo and Wade calls me Buttercup.”

“But it’s not, mom. I see the way you look and act around him. It’s becoming more than a friendship for you.”

You shook your head. “You’re just seeing things.”

“May I remind you that I was there when you and dad got married. I think I know what you look like when you’re in love and when a Logan is in love with you.”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“Yet.”

“Laura,” you sighed.

“I’ll drop it. Well, until tonight.”

“Tonight? What’s happening tonight?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

~~~

Laura was coming home from work when she gave Logan a call.

“Laura?” He immediately picked up, sounding concerned. “What’s going on? Is something wrong? Is it your mom?”

She forced herself to not laugh at his rapid fire questions. “Mom’s fine,” she replied. “I’m fine. Just calling to make sure you’re coming for movie night tonight.”

“Didn’t think we were doing it without Wade.”

“I don’t see why not. Unless you don’t want to spend time with my mom and I?”

“No! Uh, I mean, of course I want to spend time with your mom… and you!”

Laura bit back a laugh once again. “Okay. So we’ll see you after work?”

“Yeah, of course. See you then, kid.”

Laura ended the call, finally laughing to herself as she thought about how fun this was going to be.

~~~

“Hey, mom,” Laura greeted as she entered the apartment.

“Hey, kiddo,” you replied. “How was your day?”

“It was good. I’m tired and ready for movie night.”

“Movie night? Are we still doing it? I don’t think Wade would be too happy about that.”

“Oh, come on, mom. It’s my turn to pick the movie and, besides, Logan already said he was coming.”

“Oh?”

Laura smirked. “Yeah, Lo’s coming over.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way she teased you. “What movie are you picking tonight?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not giving anything away until Logan’s over.”

“I swear, if you choose a horror movie,” you shake your head. “You know how I feel about those. We’ve seen too many horrors in our own lives to watch those. Plus, they are actually scary.”

“I told you, mom, you’re just going to have to wait.”

~~~

Logan stepped into your apartment, relishing in how fast the tension seemed to leave him. He was spending more time at your apartment than his, but he wasn’t complaining and, as of now, neither were you and Laura.

“Hey, doll,” he said as he came over to where you were in the kitchen. “Need any help?”

“Lo,” you smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but dinner’s all done. The homemade pizza is just keeping warm in the oven. How was work?”

“Fine. Just work. How was your day, darlin’?”

“It was good. Stuck around home today.”

“Good. You need days were you take it easy.”

The genuine concern shining in Logan’s eyes had you catching your breath. You could tell that he seriously wanted you to take it easier and rest more. You knew that he was constantly worried about you, but you didn’t know to what extent.

“Good! Logan’s here!” Laura broke the quiet moment that had fell between you and Logan in the kitchen. “Let’s get eating and then it’s movie night!”

“Gonna tell us what we’re watching, kid?”

“After dinner!”

~~~

“Okay, I picked a horror movie for tonight,” Laura stated as she and Logan finished up cleaning the dishes.

“What?” You questioned. “You know that I’m not a fan of those films.”

“Why not, doll?” Logan questioned.

“It’s just… I… Well…” you sighed. “I’ve seen enough horrors in my life. Yes, I know that it’s not exactly the same but it’s enough. I’m not a fan.”

“Don’t worry, mom,” Laura smirked. “Logan and I will protect you. Right, Logan?”

“Uh, yeah,” Logan nervously coughed, “of course.”

“It’s settled then! Horror movie it is! I’ll take the chair, you two can have the couch.”

Laura plopped down in the chair and pulled a blanket over her lap. You bit your lip as you slowly sat down on one end of the couch. Logan glanced at the spot immediately next to you, silently debating on if he should sit there. He decided to let you have some space, not wanting to force proximity upon you. Logan sat down on the opposite end of the couch. You were surprised at how disappointed you felt when he didn’t choose to sit right beside you. Laura leaned over and flipped off the lights after starting the movie.

Logan’s focus wasn’t on the movie, but on you. His hands were grasping at his jeans as he tried to prevent himself from reaching out and pulling you into his lap at every wince and whimper that came from you. He hated that Laura put this on, knowing that you didn’t enjoy these types of movies.

Suddenly, there was a big jump scare that practically had you jumping across the couch. You reached out and your hand gripped onto Logan’s bicep in a death grip. Even through his shirt, he could feel your skin heating up. Or was it his because you were touching him? Before his brain could fully short-circuit, Logan moved closer.

“Sorry,” you whispered, yanking your hand away.

He shook his head. “No need, doll,” he quietly responded. 

You kept your hands tucked between your thighs, feeling embarrassed for gripping his arm like that. But, all too soon, your were jumping again, scared of what was playing on the screen. Your arm seemed to have a mind of its own as it slipped through Logan’s. Your head buried into his bicep. Logan tensed, though you didn’t notice. You were using him to feel safe, right? That meant you felt safe with him. Logan kept still, not wanting you to pull away from him. 

“It’s… uh, over now,” Logan told you. “You can look.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling away and leaving Logan longing for your touch.

The two of you were sitting much closer than you were before, sides pressed together. Logan clenched and unclenched his fists as he tried to not overthinking it all. You were taking measured breaths, now thinking more about how close you were to Logan than the movie. Another scary moment had you jumping again and practically shoving yourself into Logan. His arm wrapped around you quickly as your face pressed into his shoulder.

“I got you, darlin’,” he whispered, absentmindedly pressing comforting a kiss to your head. “I’ll protect you.” You nodded as he pulled you closer.

For the next few scenes, Logan told you when to look and when to look away. Laura watched it all with a smirk on her face. Suddenly, she decided that her job was done and she stood up, faking a big stretch and yawn.

“I’m tired,” she announced. “I’m going to bed.

“What?” You questioned. “You chose this awful movie and now you’re just going to leave?”

“Logan’s here. You’ll survive. Night.” Then she quickly disappeared down the hall before anything else could be said.

“We could… uh,” Logan cleared his throat, “we could change the movie. If you want.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” You questioned. “I really don’t think I can sleep after that.”

“Of course.”

You leaned over and took the remote from Laura’s chair before leaning back into Logan, not even thinking twice. “You care what I put on?”

“Not at all.”

You nodded and quickly turned on your favorite Disney animated movie. Logan reached over to the basket of blankets on the side and threw it over the two of you. You tossed him a thankful smile before leaning further into him and focusing on the screen. As the movie played, Logan could feel you relax more and more until he heard the sound of soft snores coming from you. He looked down and you were sound asleep. You looked so peaceful. The lines on your face were relaxed. Your mouth was slightly open. Logan didn’t realize how in pain you always looked until this moment and it broke his heart. He figured you probably didn’t realize how much pain you were in all the time, growing used to it.

Logan thought about carrying you to your bed and tucking you in, but he didn’t want to break this moment just yet. He was enjoying having you in his arms, relaxed, and where he could protect you. It would put you to bed once the movie was done. At least that’s what he told himself. As the movie continued, Logan’s eyes grew heavier until he couldn’t fight it anymore. His head fell back and he was asleep.

~~~

Laura woke up in the morning to find the tv still on and you and Logan cuddled together, asleep on the couch. She smiled, happy to see her mom so relaxed. She took out her phone and quickly snapped  Deciding to go grab some breakfast for everyone, Laura slipped her jacket and shoes on. Before she could open the door, it swung open, barely missing her.

“Your Savior has arri—“ Before Wade could finish, Laura kicked him out into the hallway and carefully shut the door behind him. “Hey, Little Wolf, that wasn’t a very nice welcome! Especially after putting all that work in to find a cure for our Little Flame.”

“Don’t care,” she responded. “I can’t have you waking them.”

“Them? What are you talking about?”

She motioned towards the door with her head. “See for yourself.”

Wade went over to the door and opened it enough to peek his head in. “Oh, shit!” His eyes widened as he saw you and Logan asleep on couch. “Are they— Did they— when?”

Laura pulled him away from the door and shut it again. “Nothing’s happened. They’re still just friends. We had a movie night last night and they fell asleep, that’s all.”

“Glad I didn’t miss all the good stuff then.”

“There’s still plenty of time for you to help with the matchmaking.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

“So, did you do it? Did you find a cure for my mom?”

“I think so, Little Wolf.” He slipped a vial of red liquid out of his Deadpool suit. “If this works, she’ll have her full powers again and we will get our Little Flame for a long time.”

“I hope it works.”

“Me, too, Little Wolf. Me, too.”

next chapter >

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Ohhhh, I like this one. I like it a lot. It’s amazing! The fluff is AMAZING!!! And the angst leading into it always makes fluff that much better (in my humble opinion).

I’m finding myself intrigued by the lock systems. Like, why do they only open at a certain time? Is it actually her father that unlocks them? And why would he do that?

Honestly, that was the main detail that got my brain turning, but it’s all interesting. I love it!

Saved

This one is pure nonsense. I didn’t explain anything at all. I just started writing and here it was. I needed some fluff and this spewed forth. I’m so sorry. This is a mess. But cute, I hope. 

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1793

Warnings: Abuse, fluff, terrible plot execution, swearing

You watch the rain splatter against the window pane, hoping that the thunder doesn’t wake your father up. The door won’t unlock for another ten minutes. 

Just ten minutes.

Keep reading

[urbaebarnes]

be mine

summary: you were convinced life would never be the same again after losing Nat, but your life's never the same after Bucky either

post endgame bucky barnes x fem avenger reader

warnings: grief, curse words, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

i know people like flowers and everybody was so kind about it i couldn't wait to start writing this! this was also meant to be much shorter but here we are i guess

word count: 3.9k words

Grief was a scary thing. No matter who you were, realising that somebody is gone from your life is difficult. But it seemed to be double the blow for you and Bucky.

Natasha had been your lifeline, your only family. You came here with her, and part of you felt as though you left here with her too. It was supposed to be easy to understand, but no matter how many times people explained it to you, it didn’t quite make sense how everybody else got their families back and you just didn’t.

You figured Bucky must feel similar, the two of you never really ventured outside your designated people. He had Steve, and you had Nat. Sure, everybody else was still close, but they would never be able to fill the void that was left by the redhead assassin. Who were you supposed to run to after a good date- or a bad one at that?

It was fine, you tried to convince yourself, as everybody else moved out the compound, as everybody else moved on, you were stuck here.

The only other person who’d remained was Bucky, although that seemed to be partly down to the fact the government still wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to be paying him. It was a room, a bed, a constantly stocked kitchen. It made sense to stay.

After Bruce officially moved out, you were convinced you didn’t see Bucky for two weeks. He was good at being sneaky, you only ever caught glimpses of him, or often a still steaming mug of tea on the countertop when you’d abandoned your attempt to sleep and decided you wanted a glass of water. If you appeared in a room, he was gone before you could even open the door, only leaving a trail of proof behind him.

One day, it seemed to change. The solitude was starting to mess with your head a little, not like you weren’t used to it, but normally there was something, anything. An off hand comment, a morning or goodnight, the more time you spent around the compound, it felt like you were chasing ghosts. But seemingly, Barnes had gotten sick of dropping whatever he was doing and escaping.

It was late at night, or early in the morning - there never really was a cut off for that time - but either way, you were losing a race to sleep, constantly slipping from your fingers before your eyes opened, more awake than the last time. You’d grown to feel guilty about kicking Bucky out of every space you found yourself in, but you didn’t have it in yourself to sit in this room any longer, tracing every bump and scratch on the ceiling.

This time, however, it was different. As you pushed open the door, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the dark and wandered down the corridor, you could hear scuffling from somewhere down the hallway, and by the time you got to the kitchen, Bucky was still there.

As you pushed the door open wider, Bucky seemed to notice you, freezing like a criminal caught in an act. His stance was almost laughable, leaning slightly forward, a pink mug in his metal hand. His hair was scooped into a small bun at the back of his head, and the light blue vest top seemed to match his wide eyes.

You gave him a faint smile, still feeling sluggish despite your lack of sleep. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed once, eyes shutting for a moment before opening on a loud exhale of breath, straightening his posture. 

His shoulders seemed to hunch, looking between the mug, a newspaper on the small circular table, open a few pages in. “I can go-”

You tried to ignore the ache in your chest that the first words he’d said to you was him offering to leave. “Bucky.” You cut him off, voice sharp but with no malice behind it, “It’s okay, I’m just getting a hot chocolate. Don’t leave because of me.” 

Your head tilted as he seemed to look shocked at your words, bun bouncing as he shook his head at you. “I don’t want to bother you.” He kept the mug clutched close to his chest, other hand reaching for the newspaper.

“You’re not bothering me, I won’t even talk, sit down and read your newspaper in peace.” You walked around to the hot chocolate machine, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he hesitantly sat back down, gazing over his shoulder at you until he caught your eye, quickly turning around.

You smiled softly to yourself, stirring around the drink with the teaspoon, keeping your eyes trained on the brown liquid. Part of you feared to look back up, scared to make him uncomfortable. Really, his presence was comforting, even if the only sound in the room was you stirring the drink and the rustling of paper as he flicked through the pages in his newspaper.

When you did turn around, he was squinting at the text on the page, pulling a face at whatever he was reading before moving along. You took a seat on the barstools, blowing on it as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through some news stories, a few unanswered emails from Sam. The warm taste of the hot chocolate slipping down your throat was almost as comforting as Bucky’s hums at the newspaper every now and again.

You sat like that in silence for god knows how long, even with the brightness turned down on your phone, the white light still illuminated your face as you ventured through your photos app, venturing years and years back. One picture in particular caught your eye, you and Nat just before you had to leave for Wakanda. She was pulling a stupid face at the camera, so normal and usual. You feared you’d never feel that carefree again.

At first, you figured you were imagining the feeling of eyes staring into the side of your head, but as you placed your phone down and picked up your cup, you glanced over to Bucky. His face flushed a little as he coughed, looking at the floor before looking back at you, lips slightly parted.

“You good?” You questioned, switching off your phone as you took a sip.

He nodded slowly, swallowing thickly before frowning, “Did you have another nightmare?” His voice was quiet- it was quiet earlier, but this was the most hesitant you’d ever seen Bucky Barnes. Your eyes must’ve shown your shock, how did he know about your nightmares anyway? He quickly licked his lips, sitting forward, “I’m not trying to be weird, it’s just I can hear you after you wake up sometimes… with the whole super-hearing-thing.”

You smiled slightly, shaking your head at his immediate nervousness, “No, didn’t get the chance tonight. Just couldn’t sleep is all. You?”

“Nightmare.” His eyes flicked from your face to around the room, biting the inside of his cheek.

You instantly regretted your question, seeing as he seemingly built walls around himself. “You wanna talk about it?” You already knew the answer, even before he shook his head, eyes refinding your face. 

You gazed down into the now empty cup, feeling more relaxed than you had in a while. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” You stand up, placing it down next to the sink. Your legs moved before you could fully register that you were walking all the way around the counters to walk past Bucky. It was the longer way, the much longer way, but you couldn’t help but slow down next to him, noticing the bags under his eyes. “You should too.” You whispered, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder for a moment before quickly retracting it.

His face froze as your thumb laid over his collarbone, but just as quick as the warmth of your hand appeared, it left as you walked out the room, the door closing softly behind you as he stared at the door.

Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[⭐]

After that night, it was as if you couldn’t stop seeing Bucky everywhere you went. The times where he’d once ran out of rooms to avoid an encounter seemed long gone by now.

It started with him making you a coffee in the morning, even if he wasn’t around. Then came the books that he’d leave alongside them, sometimes he wrote in the very margins, little things that made you laugh, or notes in the very first page giving you a brief description. You made a point of reading them when he was there, you noticed that he liked to watch you read them. Then, every night, before bed, you’d sit together in the kitchen.

“Do you ever look at something and just think of her?” He asked you one night. His eyes looked heavy, his back hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. “Natasha?”

You looked over sadly at him, his eyes trained on the Iron Man mug in his hands. “Everyday.” You whispered with a bittersweet smile. “I go to show her things sometimes, things she would’ve found funny and then it hits me.”

“I do that with Steve.” His voice was barely audible despite the fact there was nobody else here. They found themselves whispering lite that often, as though everybody else was asleep and they didn’t want to wake them up. There was never anybody there. “I guess now I show you the things I’d show him.”

You hummed at that, shoulder brushing with his. 

Eventually, your lives became so intertwined that it seemed like you were shadows of one another. It wasn’t always intentional, but you’d both just show up at the gym at the same time, or go on a walk at the same time. It made sense, as you’d grown closer, that your everyday activities just fit together.

The first time after getting closer to Bucky that Natasha’s death really hit was when you realised how handsome he actually was. Sure, he’d always been an attractive man, but something about how peaceful he looked on a night, watching you so intently as you tilted your head at his snarky comment written in his loopy handwriting. 

You looked up at him, knowing he was already watching, and found his smile so intoxicating you forgot all about the little note for just a second, too busy being far too infatuated with his grin. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to run to Natasha, curl up with your head in her lap as you rambled about how his upturned lips made your heart feel as though it was preparing to make its grand escape out of your chest.

But you couldn’t, so you feigned a smile that you hoped he didn’t notice was fake and made some excuse to use the bathroom in an attempt to avoid the swirl of emotions. By the time the words had left your mouth, you’d already shut the door, taking deep breaths as you splashed your face with water, “Fuck, come on. Pull yourself together.” You murmured, drying your face on the navy towel.

When you exited, you peeked your head out first, hoping your heart would grow used to the sight of him if you watched him a little longer, even though all that did was accentuate the dull ache left by the thought of Nat. Though you quickly came to the conclusion that time couldn’t make this go away.

A few weeks after that, Bucky slept in your room for the first time.

You were a light sleeper and though you’d woken up to Bucky moving around after a nightmare many times, this was different. He’s told you recently in the kitchen one night over a cup of steaming lemon and ginger tea about how bad his nightmares could get. He explained most of them were memories, but the really bad ones, the ones where he couldn’t differentiate the real from the fake, had subsided a little after Wakanda. He’d also said he screamed sometimes.

If this was what he meant, then it was much worse than how he’d described them.

It felt as though somebody had fished around your body and found your heart strings, then tugging sharply. He sounded scared, and in pain, and it took everything in you not to run to his bedside, so instead you sat there, attempting to quiet your own breaths in hope of hearing him moving in the now silence.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been, time seemed to blur as you stared at where you figured the door would be, everything hazy in the dark, but however long it had been, the relief you felt when you heard the three sharp knocks couldn’t be matched.

Springing out of bed, your toes curled at the feeling of the cold wooden floor before feeling your way along the wall, switching on the wall lamp, flooding the room with light on your way to the door. As your hand grazed the doorknob, he knocked again, this time quicker, more desperate.

You pulled at the door quickly, letting the light grace his face like the sun on a soldier back from war. “Bucky?” You whispered softly, seeing his distraught face, his eyes raking over your body, head jerking in small movements as you stood there.

“You’re…” He trailed off, placing his flesh hand over your heart. “You’re okay.” His eyes closed, nodding to himself as his head dropped. You wrapped your own hand over his, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m okay, you’re okay.” Your voice was gentle as you watched his chest begin to stop moving so violently, letting his shoulders relax, or drop, it didn’t look overly relaxing or comfortable.

He mumbled something, opening his eyes slowly before pulling away his hand, even though he pinned your thumb in between his pointer and middle finger. “I’m sorry, it was just… I had to make sure…”

You walked backwards, pushing the door open with your back, letting your arm stretch out, “Come on.” You whispered, pulling your arm slightly as he still clutched your thumb. Bucky’s mouth opened, standing dumbstruck for a moment before he nodded, walking closer, letting the door shut softly behind him. 

Even as you bent down beside your bed, he never let go of your thumb, and you never tried to pull it away. “What are you doing?” He questioned, voice still shaky but a hint of something else rearing its head, trying desperately to escape his tone.

Smiling, you tugged out a mattress, standing up and letting the arm that was stretched rest for a moment, he tilted his head curiously at it, “You want a blanket?”

Bucky was too stunned to speak, looking between you and your overly kind gesture, “I can’t, you shouldn’t have to-”

“When are you gonna start believing that I’m doing this because I want to, Bucky?” You questioned faintly, wrapping the rest of your fingers around his. “Lay down, please?”

Your eyes seemed to win him over, begging a pleading with him to just let you take care of him. That night was the best sleep he’d had in a while.

The only problem was that after that, he couldn’t do anything without you anymore, he couldn’t fall asleep in his own room, he couldn’t concentrate if you weren’t around. If he thought he was dependent before, this was another level- not that you seemed to mind. He’d just gravitated to that mattress in your room, the next night, he knocked again and you’d left it where it was, almost as though it was waiting for him.

From there, your relationship flourished, even if neither of you ever referred to it as a relationship, or anything really. You were just you and Bucky, there didn't have to be anything else. Despite what Clint suggested when he came to visit, or the raised eyebrows you’d received from Sam.

Sam had committed a full day of trying to get a picture of Bucky looking at you. He seemed to figure it would ignite something in you two, but it proved a harder task than originally thought out. After a full day of hiding his face with his hand whenever Sam would pull out his camera - partly to hide his pink cheeks from you - and pulling a stupid face at the camera, he’d managed to snap one.

You were both in the kitchen, Bucky sat across from you on the barstools as you yapped away, half expecting them both to zone out, but Bucky didn’t. The only time he’d zoned out when words were coming out of your pretty mouth was when you were standing a little too close for his own self control.

In the picture, he was leant forward, resting his tilted head on his wrist, nails grazing his lips as he stared up at you. The very corner of his lip could just be made out, the flash of pink pointing upwards as you didn’t notice him at all, looking down at the pan in your hand, mouth slightly apart. 

When Sam showed it to you, he swore he could trace the hearts in Bucky’s eyes, but you quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head as he saved it to his favourites folder and murmuring something about how this would be shown at your wedding.

Sure, Bucky was everything, he was your everything, but you weren't about to ruin all of this just because you got selfish.

Sam, being the little shit he was, then tried to show Bucky, but he was even quicker to shove the phone away, insisting he delete it asap, despite the smirk on his face. 

The first time you were away on a mission felt like hell for Bucky. Whilst you could put on a brave face and spend three days in Germany, fighting alongside someone from S.W.O.R.D, his life was a mess without you.

It frightened him how much he seemed to depend on being able to see you while you were sleeping, or the fact that he couldn’t make anything but toast and pasta. Bucky wasn’t fully sure how he’d survived without you before. He’d already lost so many people and he didn’t think he could survive if you disappeared from his life too. You weren’t allowed a phone on the mission, so he couldn’t contact you, his only comfort was the small picture of you he kept in his wallet. 

It was stupid, but you were one of the few photos on his phone, and your face just looked too damn perfect not to fit in the small space. This way, every time he had to leave the house or got to the shops or be separated for the smallest amount of time, you were right there with him. It also helped him remember to bring his wallet- he couldn’t leave you in between the sofa cushions after all.

He’s been alerted of your arrival back an hour before your jet got back, and it seemed like the longest hour he’d ever known. Bucky sat on the bench, he stood up and paced in a circle, he leant against the wall, he sat on the ground, all within the space of ten minutes. But his dirty trousers were worth it as he spotted your face, a cut down your left cheek and a mark on your jaw.

But you were fine, and Bucky couldn’t care less about the agents who stopped and stared as he stepped forward and engulfed you in a hug. Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you froze before wrapping your arms back around him. The two of you were close, but this… this was different.

“I missed you, doll.” He murmured, squeezing you tightly as you hummed.

“Me too, Buck. Me too.” As you pulled apart, his hands cupped your face, careful to avoid the cut. His brows knitted together as he observed your face, eyes flickering around every part of you, only stopping as you let your hands rest on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t reply, just staring into your eyes, transfixed as people moved around you.

You took his head and led him inside to the compound, into the kitchen. Bucky could feel everything he’d ever felt rise to the very surface as you pushed his shoulders down so he’d sit in a chair as you set off, busying yourself around the kitchen as you tidied away his attempts at cooking something edible.

“I love you.”

The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think or do anything to stop himself. It was stupid, so very very stupid, but you made Bucky a stupid man. He hadn’t even told you he liked you, he felt like he’d skipped through steps that were fairly detrimental to any stage of a relationship, and god he really wanted a relationship. He wanted to call you his and wrap his arms around your body from behind, pepper kisses on your neck-

Bucky was quickly pulled out of his fantasies by you, you could pull him out of anything with one glance, even your presence alone could calm down the waves of self hatred that reared their pathetic heads every now and again. But there you were, a pan in one hand, stopped mid stride as you stared at home with parted lips.

This had to be a bad thing, he thought, you looked like a deer caught in headlights and that didn’t often end well.

He was too busy wrapped up in his whirlwind of feelings to even notice your upturned lips, or the way you neared him, saying his name so softly. He didn’t register anything until your hands found his cheeks, he looked up at you, eyes wide with confusion as he took in your smiling figure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think an-” His voice was a whisper, scared of losing you through his pure stupidity.

But all those thoughts were put to rest the moment your lips graced his, just a peck, a gentle brush of affection, but the moment he registered just what was happening, he wrapped his arms around your centre, pulling you in between his legs as you stood back up from bending down to his height. You let yourself be pulled in, his head resting against your body as he grinned to himself like a love drunk fool.

He stood up soon after, hands never moving from your back as he kept you flush against him, biting his lip as he looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world - maybe you were. “I had a plan in my head of how this was going to happen.” His words were strained, but the small chuckle that escaped his throat was enough to reassure any doubts in your mind. “But screw it, screw it all, just be mine, please be mine.”

His forehead rested against yours as he closed his eyes. The universe owed him this, it owed him his happy ending, and you yours.

After everything you’d lost in the past year, Bucky had made you smile, he’d made you laugh, he’d made you happy- something you weren’t even sure was possible after you snapped back, after you’d been told of what happened to Nat. But he helped. He didn’t try to fix everything, he didn’t try and bring a magic hammer and smash the broken parts of you back together, you grew together, you helped each other. You understand each other because even on your worst days, he was with you, and he would help, and love, and care.

“I’m yours.”

[lightlyblooming]

Allowed to Live

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Death decides to give the reader a second chance.

Words: 893

A sickly feeling churned to life in my gut as I stared down at my own body laid out on the ground before me.

There was something uncanny to it. The person I’d seen in the mirror every day was stretched across the dirt-covered forest floor, looking like just another casualty of battle. Too many open wounds to count littered the body. The largest gashes still leaked blood, adding to the muddy pool of darkening blood around the body. The eyes were still recognizably mine, but held none of the shine I was used to. The chest I had known to fill and move with breaths stayed completely still. 

The pain of all those wounds still echoed in the back of my mind. I could almost feel the unnerving warmth of blood as it grew around me. The icy fear was still fresh, swimming around in my gut.

I followed the body’s gaze and turned my attention to the sky. 

The inky black night, framed by the silhouette of towering trees, caused a deep tranquility to wash over me. The scattering of stars seemed engrained in my soul. The quiet companions to my final moments as a living, breathing person. I wished I had taken more time to learn the constellations, if only so that I could thank each of them for being there with me.

I looked back down, but my eyes caught on a shadowy figure standing in the treeline before my attention could fully return to the cooling corpse.

There was something oddly familiar about it. More comforting than any blanket of night could be. More distant than the array of stars. More familiar than the rise and fall of my own chest. More foreign than the name of those constellations that hung over my head.

Leaves crunched as the cloaked figure walked out of the deepened shadows of the forest. With every step, they grew closer, and my familiarity grew deeper. They brushed back their hood, and it was only then when I could put a name to that familiarity.

“Rio,” I breathed.

“Death,” she corrected, her voice a balm to my soul.

Death.

It was only a matter of time before I met her. Truly met her. I’d sent more people than I could count into her embrace. I’d bargained and begged for her to leave me alone and, for the most part, she had.

Death wore the face of Rio, a woman I had grown to know--and love--throughout my life. That was a mercy, I supposed. Death, my silent companion. Death, the only certainty there was in life. Death, walking hand-in-hand with Rio, the woman who had shown me how to live. Rio, the woman who had shown me what it meant to love so fiercely that it ached. Rio, the woman that had entwined herself into my heart so thoroughly that I feared it’d shatter if she tried to untangle herself.

“It’s been a while,” Rio said, her slow walk coming to an end at the head of my corpse. A small smile fluttered at the corner of her lips, but it didn’t stay for long.

“Too long,” I said, my voice far softer than I’d intended. I had no desire to correct it. There was no use in pretending. Not in front of Rio. Not in front of Death. “I missed you.”

Rio laughed, the sound hollow. “There’s a less dramatic way to get my attention.”

“That wouldn’t be as fun.”

Rio’s expression darkened. “No.” 

She looked down at my corpse, going so still that I nearly thought she’d turned into one of the trees looming behind her. Her stillness washed over me, turning my mind quiet. In the silence, I noticed the aching silence in my chest. The emptiness of my lungs, the absence of my thudding heart. 

Slowly, Rio’s eyes lifted to mine. A sorrow swam in the depth of her expression. Her pain hurt more than any of those wounds had.

She held my eyes as shadows started to wind their way around my corpse. Wandering, searching, caressing. I searched her eyes, trying to decipher what she was thinking, what she was doing. My muscles grew tight. I wondered why it was taking so long, why I hadn’t moved on into the empty darkness of the afterlife.

“I’ll call you for drinks next time, yeah?” she teased.

I blinked, my eyebrows furrowing. I opened my mouth, but before any sound could come out she snapped her fingers and the world fell away from around me.

For a split second, I was in that nothingness. There was nothing and no one.

Then, there was searing pain.

My bones, my blood, my flesh. It burned stronger than anything else ever had. The pain turned into a white-hot knife that cut through me.

I gasped for air, but my lungs protested. They refused to move. They refused to draw in that life-giving air. 

I tried to scream, to beg for help, to beg for Death. 

Darkness pressed in around my consciousness, that inkiness once again washing over me. I braced myself to fall back into it, but my lungs gave in first. Air rushed in, expanding my lungs, causing my chest to rise and fall. My chest ached, likely from a combination of broken ribs and atrophying muscles, but I was breathing. 

I was alive. 

[chiseplushie]

This fic is going to live rent free in my head for the next thirty years idk maybe forever.

A few honorable mentions:

Bucky's inner turmoil (I need a falling out between bucky and sharon and Steve's response to her driving a wedge between them)

Bucky's feeling sooo much that he can't even be rational about his jealousy and insecurity

Bucky being possessive bc that man is HIS DADDY TYVM

Even tho that boy is a walking work of art

Steve thinking bucky is an adult rn and they're gonna talk like adults lmaoo

Jokes' on you Steve, Bucky's only an adult when you're not in the room

Steve carrying bucky like a cave man in front of the other patrons

With a hard on

"I don't know this man! Help me!"

Steve's Big Dick Energy

Steve's Big Daddy Energy

Steve's Big Dick

Steve's Dick

Bucky's bedroom eyes

Steve being weak for Bucky's bedroom eyes

Steve being weak for bucky

"you're frothing at the mouth."

Arm 👏🏼 Across 👏🏼 His 👏🏼 Throat 👏🏼

Steve: I've got a dick with your name on it

Bucky: oh my God you're right

Steve giving bucky the reassurances he needs 🍆💦

Which bucky has to sit in for the rest of the night 🍑

I've never subscribed to a patreon so fast in my life

🥴🤌🏼

Rating: Explicit Pairing: 3DWD/Bunny Baby Word Count: ~4.9K Tags: Dom/Sub Undertones, Age Gap, Daddy Kink, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Budding Relationship, Brat Taming, Manhandling, Angry Sex, Possessive Behavior, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Coming on Ass, Spanking, Punishment, Feminization, Slight Humiliation, Comeplay, Crying, Dry Humping, Clothed Sex A/N: My god. I don’t think I’ve written anything like this before, but I’m not surprised these two did it to me. So dirty! So bratty! So them! I hope you enjoy.

Read here on Ao3

Bucky’s a fool. 

A fool for believing Steve was any different, a fool for thinking he’d be the one to show Bucky how he should be treated after so many experiences where he was in fact mistreated. 

A fool for believing in love. 

He’s such an idiot. 

“You know who he is, right? He owns companies, plural. He’s an extremely attractive, older, extremely wealthy man, Bucky. He’s seen with someone else on his arm every weekend. You’re sure he’s going to keep seeing you? I’m just looking out for you…” 

Hearing those words at the time made Bucky scoff, made him set his wine glass down on the bartop and excuse himself from the conversation with Sharon entirely. He was so offended by her words, by how they made him feel, that he left their dinner and walked right home. 

How dare she? Steve wouldn’t do that to Bucky, not after everything he’s promised Bucky. 

Turns out, she had been right. 

Bucky is indeed a fool. 

He watches Steve work the room from where he sits at a hightop table across the bar, a bar Steve chose, a table Steve directed him towards. Steve has had two beers, nursing them slowly over the past two hours, people engaging him in near constant conversation, drawn towards him like a flower to sunlight. Bucky is nearing his third glass of wine, Steve eager to fetch it from the bartender, and Bucky’s beginning to feel the alcohol in the form of sudden moodiness. 

Of course Steve would be more than eager to go talk to more people, go flirt his way through the crowd, put the moves on whoever is willing to embrace them.

Which is everyone. 

Who the fuck wouldn’t find Steve charming and attractive? 

Tall and broad, he towers over everyone else in the room, having easily parted the crowd to make his way through it. His hair is shorter than it was when Bucky first met him, but it still remains a bit shaggy and irresistible, both sun and wind swept. A dark colored polo and slacks to match, the touch of his glasses to add to his delicious age, a beard that is just beginning to grey that’s worthy of drool. 

Everyone’s eyes are on Steve. 

It’s like Bucky’s been summoned to go on this date with Steve just to watch him go on a date with everyone else. 

His vision blurs as he watches on as a handsome man reaches for Steve’s arm, smile stunning and eyes seductive as he cozies up next to Steve against the bar. It’s been women who have been approaching Steve up to this point in the evening, gorgeous, breathtaking women who have been all but falling to their knees for Bucky’s date. But once the entire room began to catch on that Steve wasn’t interested in the slightest, it seems men have begun to step forth and take their shot. 

And that’s different. 

That stings. 

“You’re sure he’s going to keep seeing you?” 

Bucky’s blurry vision turns red the moment he sees Steve’s hand come down atop that of the man that is flirting with him, watches as Steve smiles at him charmingly, a cocky grin. It’s a brief touch, a brief physical interaction that lasts maybe two seconds, but it’s the nail in the coffin for Bucky. 

He stands from his chair, pocketing his phone and reaches for his coat. 

He’s leaving.

There’s no need for him to let Steve know he’s leaving; he didn’t let Bucky know he was coming along on this date just to watch Steve flirt with anyone who even looked Steve’s way. 

Steve will be fine. 

Bucky knows he will be too. 

Eventually.

He turns his back on the bar and makes the decision to try and exit out through the back. He doesn’t want to risk Steve seeing him leave. Bucky scoffs out loud, an ignored sign that his wine may be getting to him. Who is he kidding? Steve wouldn’t be able to see anything past everyone trying to suck him off. 

He spots the exit sign glowing out of the corner of his eye and turns to make his way towards it. He’s passing the restrooms, moving at a brisk and angry pace, when he’s grabbed by the back of his neck. 

He jerks out of the familiar hand before Steve can spin him around himself. 

“Buck? Where are you…?” Steve begins to ask, trailing off when he sees the expression on Bucky’s face, when he’s met with a deadly combination of rage, alcohol, and embarrassment. His brow furrows in confusion. 

“Bun?” 

Bucky doesn’t even make an attempt to take the high road, not when he’s so hurt and feeling like a goddamn idiot. 

“Don’t,” is all he can hiss out right away, his pent-up emotions coming to a head. “Don’t say that to me. Don’t Bunny me.” 

When Steve immediately reaches for Bucky, makes a move to grab for him with urgency, Bucky steps back out of said reach. 

All he can see in his mind is everyone else’s hands on Steve.

“Everyone was right about us, about…about this not working. They’ve been in my ear for good reason, you know. Good fucking reason.” 

Bucky looks up at Steve and watches as a specific kind of stillness washes over him. 

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” 

When Steve reaches for him again, this time with a bit more of a bite to his actions, Bucky backs himself into the nearest wall to avoid his touch. 

He knows if Steve touches him, he’ll cave. He’s weak as fuck for Steve and he knows it. 

“Bucky, stop being ridiculous. Come on.” 

“I’m not being ridiculous!” Bucky all but shouts, standing up on his toes to shove his fingers into Steve’s chest. If he’s got nowhere left to run, he’s going to at least put up a damn good fight. 

“You’re the one that’s ridiculous. Bringing me here for the night, to what? To watch you lay it on thick for anyone that will look at you? To watch you let people touch you? To try and flirt their way into your fucking pants? I’m the one being ridiculous?” 

Where there was a furrowed brow before, it now grows stern with less confusion and more growing frustration. 

Steve crowds him against the wall, the move so sudden and intense that it has Bucky’s heart jumping up into his throat. He doesn’t know why he was the one to put himself against a wall, that he didn’t just keep making his way out the door. 

It’s a blatant lie to himself. 

Deep down, deep deep down, Bucky craves a good fight. 

Damn him. 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I don’t like your tone and I don’t like what you’re implying,” Steve tells him, mouth to mouth and pressing in tight. “You better slow down and get your head on straight, Bun, before you say somethin’ that’s really gonna make me angry.” 

Bucky’s head swims with the urge to be submissive fighting against the urge to bite back. Feeling Steve’s body on his, the many parts that are touching feeling warm enough to catch flame, pulls blood into his dick. Great. The way his body pushes into Steve’s is betrayal at its finest. Steve’s breath on his tongue, their differing sizes glaringly obvious and a specific weakness of Bucky’s, the confidence in which Steve tells him to be quiet. 

For a moment he wants to give in, wants to listen to Daddy, but then he’s remembering the past two hours, all the time Steve spent interacting with other people when he should have been showering Bucky in attention, and he’s back to spitting fire. 

“I’m going home.” 

“The fuck you are. What are you talking about? Who’s been in your ear about what?” 

“I’m going home,” Bucky repeats, baring his teeth as he speaks through them. He shoves at Steve’s chest and forces down the whimper that threatens to spill out when he’s met with solid and effortless resistance. 

“You’re going to talk to me like a fuckin’ adult.” 

“You’re gonna take your fuckin’ hands off me and go find another pretty boy to keep on your arm for the night. That’s what you like, right? Got a list of easy, pretty boys, one to call on each weekend, each night. I’m not going to sit here and watch you add to that list all evening, Steve. You can go to hell.” 

The seconds that follow Bucky’s harsh words are tense. They make Bucky immediately regret his outburst, regret his digs on Steve and his words. Steve all but glares down at Bucky, fingers clenched together where they rest on the wall on either side of Bucky’s head, chest heaving as he loses control of his breathing. That look alone almost has Bucky flinching away, has him wishing he didn’t always want to fight when he’s feeling weak.

He’s ready to make one more attempt at shoving at Steve and making for the exit when he watches a veil lift from Steve’s eyes, a moment of clarity it seems. 

Bucky’s own moment of confusion coincides with Steve bending, lifting him off the floor, and tossing Bucky right over his shoulder. 

“Steve!” Bucky squeals, but it’s useless. He hears a few whistles and claps, some jeers from people that have made his evening one from hell, and his face heats up with a thick blush in an instant. Rarely is he embarrassed, but this treatment has him feeling the emotion down to his core. 

Even if he is aroused at being manhandled in such a way. 

“I don’t know this man!” he urgently tells someone whose feet he sees shuffle past them. “Help me!” 

A swat on his ass makes him squeak again, his face burning with another round of a blush as Steve apologizes and reassures the stranger that he does in fact know Bucky. 

“Goddamnit, Bunny…” 

It takes Steve just a few steps before they’re entering the privacy of the dimly lit restroom and Bucky gulps, sweat forming on his upper lip. He’s going to have to face the mess he’s made head-on; there’s no running away now that Steve’s locked them in this restroom. 

A personal nightmare has become a reality. 

He’s plopped down onto the countertop next to the sink, Steve pushing his way between Bucky’s thighs to saddle in close. He reaches for Bucky’s chin with a firm grip and Bucky wants to whimper for a multitude of reasons when his eyes are forced to lock onto Steve’s. 

Sex. 

It’s all Bucky can think about when Steve touches him. When Steve’s confident and greedy hands are on him all he can think about are the times where Steve’s hands were on him just like this but when he was inside of Bucky. His legs spread around Steve’s stocky waist force Bucky into wanting to unbutton his pants to spread himself wide for Steve, to let him in and stretch him out. 

He knows he’s thrown a fit, a bit of a dramatic, end-all-be-all one, but now all he wants to do is rub all over Steve like a cat in heat. 

His body must give him away, his eyes specifically, because Steve is biting out a sharp noise and pulling Bucky right out of his head. 

“No no. You don’t get to say shit like you just did to me and then give me those eyes, Bucky Barnes.” 

The residual blush trails down his neck. 

Steve squeezes at his chin with a hell of a grip before moving to squeeze at the hinges of his jaw with one hand instead. 

“I don’t even need to know who told you all those fuckin’ lies and I don’t need to hear the extent of them,” Steve starts, voice low and serious. “Not when I’ve got other, more pressing matters to deal with.” 

Bucky doesn’t have time to be confused. 

“You jealous, Bun?” 

He sees red in an instant, makes a move to yank his face out of Steve’s hand. Steve only presses in harder, further. 

How dare he? 

“M’not fuckin’–”

“Ah ah,” Steve tsks, following Bucky’s mouth with his own, not letting up an inch. “It was a rhetorical fuckin’ question, sweetheart. You bothered by all the attention your Daddy’s gettin’?” 

Bucky simultaneously melts into the counter he sits atop and thrashes against the older man’s grip. 

Of course Steve would clock him and his bullshit immediately. 

He bares his teeth. 

“I’m not bothered.” 

Steve barks out a laugh. 

“Oh Bun…look at’chu, darlin’– you’re frothing at the mouth.” 

Bucky’s embarrassment makes its final shift, pulls tears to the edge of his eyelids. 

“I don’t need you to fuckin’ make fun of me,” Bucky spits, lunging forward to dig his teeth into Steve’s chin, it being the part of skin he has most access to. “Just get the fuck off of me and let me go!” 

Being shoved back against the bathroom mirror by an arm over the front of his throat isn’t what he expects. The most solemn version of Steve he’s seen to date isn’t what he expects. 

Bucky doesn’t know what he expects.

“Let me make this crystal clear for the both of us,” Steve murmurs after a few tense and silent seconds. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. The two of us aren’t going to let whatever bullshit lies someone has fed you come between us and what we’ve spent valuable, valuable time growing.”

He whimpers when he feels the betrayal of a hot tear sliding down his cheek, teeth still gritted like a cornered and frightened animal.

He’s never let anyone see him this weak. 

He hates being vulnerable. 

“I won’t dignify the accusations against me with a response because they’re fuckin’ ludicrous. Instead, I’ll just focus on this night proving to me that I need to continue to drill into your head that there’s no one else out there for me but you, Bucky. There’s obviously still trust left to be built between us that I’m more than willing to take the time to grow with you.” 

Bucky’s breaths are ragged and short. The relief he feels is tremendous, so much so it brings another wave of tears to his eyes.

“Do you understand me?” 

He’s nodding his head before he can contemplate an answer, body ready to listen to its Daddy. 

“You use your words and tell me you understand me.”

“I…I understand.”

“You understand what?” 

Damnit. 

“I…they’re lies. It was made up to hurt us and…and we’re not going to give into them.” 

Steve pulls his arm back and Bucky misses the weight of it immediately, the push of it grounding him in a way. 

“That’s my Bunny,” Steve bites out, tone serious and shifting into something hotter as he reaches for Bucky’s chin again and shakes it. “That’s my fuckin’ boy.” 

Bucky moans, both in relief and at Steve’s encouragement, his reassurance. 

“Now, put your hand on my dick.” 

What? 

Even though Bucky is feeling this shift in energy throughout his body, underlying and constant arousal manifesting into something dangerous for a public restroom, Bucky is taken aback. 

“W-What?” 

The arm is back on his throat in a heartbeat. 

“I told you to put your hand on my dick, Bunny.” 

Bucky whines as his hands scramble and reach to do as they’re told. The solidness his fingers are met with beneath the fabric of Steve’s slacks, the warm bulk of the older man’s cock, morphs his whine into a low moan. 

Steve’s dick is so hard. It’s so big. How is Bucky not used to it by now? 

His eyelids flutter shut as he squeezes at it, taking a moment to himself and imagining what it would feel like inside of him, stretching him out. Reprimanding him. 

“Mmm, that’s right. Go so dumb for this dick you don’t even question why it’s hard.”

Steve’s right– Bucky didn’t even stop to wonder. But he doesn’t care. He just whines again and curls his fingers further around Steve’s bulge, licks at Steve’s fingers holding his chin tight out of the corner of his mouth.

Steve rumbles and fuck, it makes Bucky’s own dick ache something fierce. 

“My dick is hard, Bucky Barnes,” Steve snaps, shoving his thumb into Bucky’s mouth, placating him, “Because it likes seein’ you get angry. You getting unnecessarily angry and possessive over your Daddy makes my dick hard as fuck.” 

Oh. 

Oh yes. 

Steve hooks his thumb over Bucky’s bottom row of teeth, pries open his jaw to lean in and lap at his tongue. 

Bucky’s head begins to spin. 

“And goddamnit, you bein’ a brat makes me stupid hard. You feel that? You feel how hard Daddy is for you?” 

Bucky moans around Steve’s tongue, drool slipping down his chin, hand moving down in an attempt to curl his fingers around Steve’s balls. The hand on Bucky’s jaw slides confidently to his hair, curling around his scalp and holding him there as Steve’s mouth works against his. 

These wouldn’t even qualify as kisses; they’re far too uncoordinated. Bucky sucks at Steve’s tongue to satiate the need to suck on his cock, his Daddy moaning into his mouth loudly, messily. 

“Yeah, you feel that load? Can feel it through my fuckin’ pants, can’t you? How heavy my nuts are just for you.” 

“Daddy…” 

Steve growls, letting out a low noise of warning, before he squeezes painfully at Bucky’s chin one last time. 

“Take me out. Take me out of my fuckin’ pants.” 

Bucky has it done in record time. He snaps Steve’s belt open so quickly it kicks back to knock him in the knuckles. The pain barely registers. Button through its hole, zipper shoved down, pants pushed down Steve’s hips just enough to give Bucky the room he wants to pull Daddy out. 

His hand is cupping Steve’s heavy sac in five seconds flat. 

Bucky’s groan grates against the front of his throat as he pulls himself to sit up, as he turns and sucks at Steve’s neck in an attempt to muffle his noises. 

Steve reaches for Bucky’s hips, mitts for hands cupping the meat of them with ease, fingers digging in greedily. 

With his legs still spread obscenely around Steve’s own hips, it almost feels as if he’s being fucked, the reminder of the position too real, too arousing. 

When Bucky wraps his fingers around his Daddy’s cock, his eyelids fluttering closed at yet another reminder of the size of Steve’s manhood, it’s Steve’s turn to suck on Bucky’s neck. 

“It’s so big isn’t it, baby?”

Bucky mewls, his hands full of just how big Daddy is. 

“You like how big your Daddy’s cock is? Huh? Look at it. Touch it and look at me and tell me you love how big my dick is.” 

An easily obliged request. Bucky is quick to look down between their bodies, quick to moan at the sight of such a girthy cock in his hands. It feels primal to squeeze his fingers around Steve’s balls then, instinctual to want to feel the fullness of them by the sight of his dick alone. 

He wants his Daddy’s cum. 

He wants to milk it out of him and rub it into his skin. 

“I told you to do something,” Steve reminds him with a nip to the hinge of his jaw. 

Bucky feels his brain begin to leak out of his ears. 

“Steve…” 

Steve growls. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ call me that. Who am I to you?” 

“Daddy,” Bucky quickly corrects, melting forward into Steve’s chest as he pumps at Steve’s cock. “Daddy.” 

“That’s right. Fuck. Tell me how much you love my big dick.”

Bucky moans, high and long. 

“I love your big dick. I love how hard your big dick is.” 

Bucky can feel how wet his hand is, how much Steve is leaking all over him. He feels a pulse in his ass because of it, in his hole. His mouth waters profusely. 

No one else could have this effect on Bucky.

“It’s big and hard for you,” Steve rumbles in his ear, moaning and kicking his hips forward into Bucky’s grip. “It’s hard for my Bunny.” 

Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat, the noise of it coming out as a sob he lets out into the skin of Steve’s neck. When he goes to squeeze at Steve’s balls again, he’s moved before he can even curl his fingers. 

He’s on his feet facing the mirror before he can catch his balance or process what’s transpired. Steve towers over him from behind, body lined up with Bucky’s, hot like fire against his backside. An arm cups Bucky’s chest from underneath his armpit, fingers curling around the opposite shoulder, while the other slides around his waist. 

If he weren’t held in such a way, Bucky’s certain he’d fall to the floor. 

But Daddy’s got him. 

The fingers curled around his shoulder move to the front of his throat, his jaw. Steve’s hips kick against Bucky’s backside, humping him. 

Fucking him. 

“Look at me.” 

Bucky barely finds Steve’s eyes over his shoulder in the mirror in front of him, moaning as he uselessly presses his hands against the sink to help hold himself up. 

“It’s hard for my Bunny,” Steve repeats, pressing in tight against Bucky’s backside so he can feel the girth of Steve’s dick against the curve of his ass. “This dick only gets hard for my Bunny. The one who rides it, who bounces on it. Who takes it, who owns it. ” 

Oh. 

Steve shakes at Bucky’s jaw, rubs his cock along Bucky’s ass. 

“No one else fucking matters but you, Bucky.” 

“Oh god…”

He has to feel. He has to feel the heat and weight and skin of Steve’s cock on his body. 

Bucky’s fingers are on his own belt once he has the thought, slow like syrup, half useless. He moans long and low as he pulls his pants and his briefs as far down his legs as he can manage, Steve’s grip not letting up in the slightest. 

He barely gets them down and around the bottom of his ass, his dick pressing hard against the counter he’s pushed against. 

The hot feel of skin on skin has them both groaning, both guttural in nature. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah. This is my dick, this is Daddy’s dick, but you own it, Bucky– you fucking own it. No one else makes it hard. No one else makes it ache. It doesn’t want anyone else. Only you.” 

When Bucky wails again, unable to pull the emotion from his noise, Steve shoves two fingers deep into his mouth from behind. 

He digs his teeth into the shell of Bucky’s ear, continuing to hump at Bucky’s now bare ass. 

His eyes roll deep, deep into the back of his head. 

“You’ll learn,” Steve tells him. “You’ll learn that I don’t give a shit about anyone but you. That every day all I fucking think about is you. That it’s fucking laughable that others make attempts. That this big, fat, Daddy dick is yours and yours only.” 

It’s everything Bucky wants to hear and more, the kind of praise he would have been too afraid to ask for. 

He makes an attempt to call out to his Daddy once more, but the fingers in his mouth garble his noises up. He locks eyes with Steve in the mirror instead, the connection shocking Bucky and adding to the eroticism of being physically owned while being told he is the owner of his Daddy’s dick. 

Steve’s eyes are on his as he grits out, “You’re perfect in every way. No one stands a chance against the feelings I have for you, Bucky.” 

Bucky sobs around Daddy’s fingers, sucks them down.

“And if I need to keep pulling you into bathrooms, carrying you over my shoulder to corners, showing up at your office just so I can remind you that you’re the only one that matters to me, that I see no one but you, then I’ll keep fuckin’ doing just that.” 

Bucky doesn’t even bother willing his tears away; he lets them flow. The comfort and shock of reassurance so deep, so moving– so erotic– is something he begs himself to not pull away from. 

He instead begs his Daddy for the unknown, for him.

“Daddy…Daddy, please. I’m sorry, I’m…I’m so sorry,” he pleads the moment Steve pulls his fingers from his mouth.

“I know you are, baby. Can be such a fuckin’ brat when you’re scared, but I know you are.” 

“I wanna come. I wanna come.” 

Steve reaches down and swats and Bucky’s leaking dick. 

Bucky’s vision swims. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Steve bites out. “You know I love you bratty, and you know I love you needy, but I wouldn’t be your Daddy if I didn’t teach you a lesson.” 

It’s instinct for Bucky to thrash against those words, to fight against a reprimand, but there’s little energy he has left. He practically hisses, pushing against the urge to throw his head back into Steve’s, body beginning to tremble from the creeping overstimulation and need he feels all over. 

“Ah ah,” Steve snaps, his grip turning vice-like in order to hold Bucky down.

Feeling the all over press of Steve’s strength, the show of it on his body, doesn’t help Bucky’s current state of mind. 

“You don’t get what you want when you act like a fuckin’ brat, when you don’t use your words and throw a fit instead. We talk to each other in this relationship. You don’t get to act like that and get yours too.”

Bucky is sure it will make sense to him later, that he’ll be appreciative of the reprimand, but right now in this moment, he disagrees wholeheartedly. Even as Steve lets go of his body and forces Bucky to stand on his own, he’s letting out a defiant whine, damn near stomping his foot. 

Steve’s hands on his ass ease some of the ache of being upset. 

Some of it. 

The harsh yet satisfying smack of one of those mitts on his ass cheek, the resounding noise of skin being slapped bouncing around the walls of the small restroom, helps as well. 

Bucky bites his bottom lip as he tilts his ass back into Steve, letting out another contradictory and resistant whine.

“Yeah, yeah– you’ll get yours too. You’re just gonna have to sit with your shame for a while, Bun. Sit with your shame while you help make Daddy come.” 

Bucky pouts as he watches Steve look down between their bodies, the noise pointless and not at all a reflection of his shifting feelings. 

He feels Steve’s hand begin to jerk himself off before he registers what he’s seeing in the mirror. 

It hits Bucky like lightning– 

Steve is going to come all over his ass in the restroom of this bar. 

Mark him up. 

Bucky’s moan is ragged as he tilts his ass back, as he spreads his legs as best he can, willing and eager. 

“You gonna sit in this the rest of the night?” Steve asks, voice low and dark as it gets when he’s about to come, fist rapidly brushing up against Bucky’s ass cheek. “Is it gonna keep you satisfied, sitting with your cum-covered ass knowing I’m your Daddy and no one else’s?” 

Oh, it’s fucked up but it’s perfect. It’s everything Bucky needs, everything he wants. 

Everything he’s never felt truly open asking anyone else for. 

“Do it right over my hole,” he rasps, neck going weak as he speaks these words. “Put…put that cum right over my hole. It’s yours.” 

He’s startled by the sudden grip on the nape of his neck, but he submissively gives into it nonetheless. It pushes him forward, bending him over the countertop, which leads him to do the one thing that makes sense–

He brings his hands back and spreads himself open for his Daddy. 

“Fuck me, look at that,” Steve grinds out, pushing closer and fisting his cock up against Bucky’s pussy. “You dirty fuckin’ Bunny. You dirty, greedy fuckin–” 

The first spurt of cum on his ass, hot and sticky and thick, feels like a brand. The shock of it has Bucky’s chest rattling with his breaths, gasping as if it’s his own climax he’s experiencing. To be claimed like this feels like relief, feels like devotion, obsession even. 

It feels like love. 

One thing at a time. 

Every spurt of cum after the first makes him feel greedier and greedier. He himself moans when Steve does, Bucky’s balls aching as Steve’s cum drips down them. 

When he clenches his hole down around nothing, when he does it wishing he could squeeze Steve’s spent cock inside of him somehow, Daddy rumbles low enough he barely registers the noise. 

“There you go,” he tells Bucky through heavy breaths, the head of his cock pressing against Bucky’s rim, pushing. “Let this be a lesson for you, Bunny.” 

Bucky lets his head hang low, chin nearly tucked against his chest as he takes a moment to be grateful for and feel every trail of Daddy’s cum on his body. 

When Steve continues to press in, to use his cock to push some of his fresh cum into Bucky’s mournful pussy, Bucky lets out a long groan. 

“Don’t you ever think anyone comes before you,” Steve reminds him quietly, resoundingly. “Ever.” 

Bucky finally smiles, aching dick and all. 

“Yes, Daddy…”

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Buckys innocent neighbor who bakes him cookies and muffins just cause. The girl next door who has the coziest apartment he's ever been in. Shelves filled with books along with plenty of comfy blankets decorating the couches. Bucky has his own place right across but home is with her (even if she doesn't know it yet).

She's the type of girl he's going to take his time with, asking her out on a date, just coffee and a walk in the park. Nothing more than a kiss on her cheek at the end of the night. Another date. Dinner. Another kiss to her other cheek. He wouldn't dare rush anything, especially not someone as soft and sweet as her.

He feels like such a dirty little pervert when he thinks about her afterwards when he's alone in bed, all the blood in his body rushing south, and fuck he's so hard. He tries to ignore it, he didn't want to do something so debauched by thinking of her like that, he even tries to think about his grocery list, laundry, he'd probably wash his arm later, it would probably be fine in the dishwasher-

Nothing worked.

He groans, shuffling and kicking his sweats off, hissing when his hand goes down to tug at his aching cock, relief flooding his veins at the sensation. He lets his mind wander to how adorable she'd be, the way he'd take her apart in the most gentle way. Lay her against the pillows while he holds those soft thighs apart, giving her the most feather light suckles on that perfect clit, basking in all the sounds she'd make. He strokes himself faster thinking about the way he'd get her ready to take all of him. How he'd make it so good for her-shit he was going to blow-maybe if he was lucky, one day she'd let him put his cock in her mou-

"Fuck!!" Bucky threw his head back, spurts of cum shooting from his sensitive head, his post orgasm haze leaving him feeling like a filthy old man. She were here making him baked treats and he was jerking his dick off like a sick fuck.

Then the night finally comes. Bucky is ready to cuddle and nothing else but he's thrown off because never in his wildest fantasies did he expect this.

She is the girl who sends him reeling the first time he takes her clothes off one by one revealing dark ink on her back and hips. He has to suppress a growl, his eyes growing wide at the scantily clad lace that covers her body.

"Like what you see, Sergeant?" she practically purrs in his ear while he lets his han ghost over her bare skin, his chest heaving when his eyes fall to her perfect breasts, hints of silver peeking from under her lingerie, there was no way-

"Can I?" He asks breathlessly, his hand reaching behind to unclasp the bra, those pretty pierced nipples begging to be sucked.

Bucky who turns into a fucking menace, his entire world flipping upside down when she grinds down on his crotch not hiding exactly what she needs from him. He doesn't even have the ability to hide how feral he is, letting all his inhibitions slip.

-

"My little bunny's a slut, fuck, c'mere" He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, hauling you over to his bedroom like an untamed beast, tossing you onto his bed with no remorse. You're in nothing but your panties which he rips right off, your thighs squeezing together at the way he stalks over to you, his hungry eyes raking up and down your body without an ounce of shame. He tugs his sweats down to reveal his leaky cock, stroking it at the edge of his bed after tossing his shirt off.

"See this baby? Been fuckin' stroking and touching myself like a fuckin' teenager because of you-" He throws off his pants before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your thighs, spreading them apart with his knees, "-and you've been here lookin' like God damn sin under those cute little sweaters"

He flicks his cockhead against your clit, humming at the clear beads of his arousal that drip onto your cunt.

"Fuck James, need more, pl-"

"Nuh uh, what was that you called me earlier, sweets?" He lets out a dark chuckle, the veins in his cock throbbing as he tightly holds the base, waiting to hear it again.

"Sergeant" you whine with mischief in your eyes and Bucky is a goner. He'll taste you later and most definitely feed you his cock another day but right now he wants to be nowhere else other than your pussy. He wants to watch you take every bit of him, rolling over to lay on his back while you straddle him, his length slotted against your cunt. He holds it up for you with a cocky look on his face, moaning when his tip breeches your tight pussy, your walls gripping his swollen, pink head.

"That's just the tip baby, c'mon, sit on it, wanna put all of my dick in you, that's it, good girl-shittt"

"Oh fuccckk,s'big" You moan feeling the stretch as you sink all the way down, panting and staying still while you adjust to his size.

"That's it bunny, that's it, ride me, ride your Sergeant" He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to grind down on him, making you feel his entire cock in your stomach. "You're a slut for big dick aren't you baby, acting all cute and shy when all you really wanted was the winter soldier's cock"

Bucky wasn't even sure where all the filth spewing from his mouth was even coming from but he couldn't stop.

"S'that it bunny? Say it baby, tell me how much you wanted my fat cock in you"

"Wanted it! F-cuk Sergeant, wanted your cock s-o-so bad!!"

"Fuck yes!!" His feet plant to meet your bounces, his hips thrusting up, slamming his entire length into you. "M'close, fuck bunny, gonna cum already, I can't hold it-

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed. You feel to good. He rubs your clit needing you to cum all over him so he can let go.

"Please, cum all over Sergeants cock baby, give it to me, be a good girl n'cum, c'mon, cum on my dick, yes, oh fuck yes I can feel it-milk it, shit touch my balls-"

You nearly collapse as your orgasm starts to wash over you, his sponge head hitting the most sensitive parts against your walls while he toys with your clit. His voice is muffled as you start to feel waves of pleasure consume you but you head just enough to reach behind, rubbing his heavy, so full of cum ba-

"FUUUCCCCKKK" He grabs you and wraps his arms around your body while he relentlessly thrusts up, biting down on your shoulder while he lets out the sluttiest, loudest moan with 0 remorse. It feels too good and he's sure the neighbors can hear but honestly, everyone should know how amazing it feels.

-

"I got you pretty baby" Bucky coos as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, a shiver running through you while you float in bliss. Bucky pulls the covers up, deciding to cuddle up with you for a bit before running a shower, his previous demeanor replaced with the far less debauched version of him.

Anyway, just an idea. Also, it's past my bedtime.

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 65

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,180ish

Summary: Wade is back with a cure. Will you take it?

Notes: Please send in reactions! The gift really has nothing to do with the chapter, I just love it.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan woke up with a pain in his neck. He grimaced as he moved his neck from side to side cracking it. Sighing, Logan finally opened his eyes and remembered where he was. Your apartment. He glanced down and a his lips pulled up into a smile. You were still asleep, cuddled up to him. His arm tightened around you. As he looked down at you, Logan wished that every morning could be like this, you asleep in his arms. 

A few minutes pass and Logan decided to carry you to bed. Trying not to jostle you too much, he maneuvered you into his arms and took you to bed. He covered you up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Peanut, Buttercup, I’m home!” Wade shouted from the living room.

Logan quickly left your bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he rushed to the living room. “Did you do it?” Logan asked. “Did you find something?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Peanut. Seems like a lot has happened since I’ve been gone. You and Buttercup—”

“Wade! Just tell me you’ve found something.”

“Oh… I struck a cord with the big bag Wolverine. Your whole world just revolves around our Little Flame, doesn’t it? You completely fell head over heels in love with her and I wasn’t even around to tease you about it. Come on,” Wade outstretched his arms, “give your favorite roomie a hug.”

“I am not giving you a hug.”

“Come on, just give Buttercup’s savior a hug.”

“So you did do it?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I get a hug.”

Logan groaned and clenched his jaw. “Fine,” he huffed.

“Yay!” Wade launched himself forward and wrapped himself around Logan. “Come on, Peanut, you have to hug back or I won’t tell you.”

Logan grunted as he allowed his arms to wrap around Wade. Laura was at the table, watching with amusement as she ate breakfast.

“What is going on here?” You asked from the hallway, having woken up from the loud voices. “Uh… should I give you two some space? Need to go have a moment alone after being separated?”

“Exactly the welcome back I was looking for,” Wade commented. He let go of Logan and immediately went over, wrapping you up in a hug. “I missed you, Buttercup. And I brought something back with me. Which,” he turned and shook his finger and Logan, “I told you not to tell anyone about my little mission, and Little Wolf over there clearly knew.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Logan said. “I only told Y/N.”

“And I didn’t tell her,” you added.

“Oh, please,” Laura spoke up, “it was obvious what Wade was off trying to do. No one needed to tell me anything.”

“Okay, well, it’s time for story time with Deadpool!” Wade announced. “Every one sit back, relax and enjoy the show!”

~~~

Wade was as animated as ever as he told the story. Wade had found a universe that had an Ember with phoenix abilities on a superhero team that was a combination of the X-Men and the Avengers. The different version of you didn’t have the same problem that you were having. But using her and the files that Wade had on you, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Jean Grey, and Hank McCoy were able put together something.

“You should have seen it!” Wade exclaimed. “Some of the greatest minds in the multiverse, all working together to save our Little Flame! I should have taken a video. It was amazing!”

“Will it work?” Logan wondered, failing to keep his hopes at bay.

“Well, we didn’t exactly have anyone to test it on, but Stark’s fancy AI ran multiple simulations and they seemed very hopeful.”

You were staring at the vial of red liquid in Wade’s hand as everyone else in the room stared at you. Your thoughts were spiraling as you thought of the consequences of taking this cure that Wade had managed to find.

“Mom?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“I… Well, first, thank you Wade, for trying to find something. For risking yourself. It means so much more to me than you’ll ever know… But I can’t take it.”

“What?” Logan questioned.

“I can’t take it. At least, not yet.”

“Why not?” Logan was growing angry. Wade had potentially found a way to keep you with them longer—to keep you with him—and you were just going to throw that away?

“Because Wade can’t promise us that this will actually work. What if I take it and die instantly? What if I take it only to then die a slow and painful death? I don’t want any of you to have to witness any of the possibilities that my mind has come up with.”

“Doll, you’re dying a slow and painful death right now.”

“Yes, but it could be a lot worse. I want to live as much as I can while I can. And when the time comes that there is really no other option, I will consider taking the cure… I’m sorry. I can’t take the risk of losing time with you all. Can you understand that?” You looked at each of them. “Can you all respect my choice?” They remained silent. “Wade, I’m sorry if this upsets you. If I—“

“Hold it right there, Buttercup,” Wade interrupted, stepping closer to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “This doesn’t upset me at all. This is your choice. And I will respect it. You want to live life the best you can for as long as you can? Then that’s what I’ll help you do.”

“Me, too, mom,” Laura stepped up. “However long we have.”

You gave them both a tight lipped smile before focusing on Logan. You could see the conflict behind his eyes. Logan was torn between forcing the liquid from the vial down your throat and obeying your wishes. He wanted more time. It’s something he felt was always slipping through his fingers despite the long lifespan. But you had a point, if the cure didn’t work, then taking it would only take you from them—from him sooner. And Logan wasn’t sure if he’d survive that.

“Lo?” You whispered, unable to wait for an answer any longer.

“I’m with you, darlin’,” Logan responded. “Whatever you need.”

You felt immense relief, but weren’t able to say anything before Wade beat you do it.

“Wait, Lo?” Wade questioned. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“Just her,” Laura smirked.

“Oh, really? Not as good as Peanut or Honey Badger but it will—“

“Not now, Wade,” Logan growled.

“Okay, okay,” Wade put his hands up. “But we,” he motioned between himself and you, “are so talking about this later.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you changed the subject back.

“I want you to keep this.” Wade offered you the vial. 

You shook your head. “No. Keep it. I don’t want it near me.” You leaned close and pressed a kiss to Wade’s cheek. “Thank you for trying. I’m going to go get ready for the day. I have to go to work early.”

The three watched as you slipped into the bathroom.

“Well, I guess that I’ll keep this baby,” Wade shook the vial, “in a safe place.”

“Give it to, Logan,” Laura said. 

“What?” Logan breathed out.

“You are the one I trust the most to kept it safe and to help do what needs to be done with the time comes.”

“Hey!” Wade exclaimed. “I found it!”

“And you did great, Wade. But I think it needs to go to Logan.”

“Fine,” Wade huffed, tossing the vial to Logan, who caught it. Wade yawned, dramatically stretching out. “Well, I need some sleep. Come on, Peanut.”

“What? Why?” Logan questioned.

“Because we need to talk before I hit the hay.” Wade went over to Logan and began pushing him out of the apartment. “See ya later, Little Wolf!” Logan and Wade entered their apartment, Wade slamming the door behind them. “What the actually fuck?! How have you not asked her out yet?!”

“It’s none of your damn business.”

“It kinda is! The tension between the two of you has increased by like a billion times and I totally saw you two asleep, cuddling on the couch earlier! Make a fucking move already!”

“It’s not that easy! I have no idea if she feels the same—“

“Then you are utterly stupid and your old age has caught up to your eyes!”

Logan shook his head and turned to look away from Wade. “What if I let her down? What if I fail her like I failed her in my universe?”

Wade scoffed. “You cannot be serious, Peanut. Fail her? You don’t have that in you, Howlett. I have watched you practically move heaven and earth to make her feel safe and wanted. You don’t have it in you to fail our Little Flame.”

The vial rolled around in Logan’s hand. “Thank you… For finding something, even though we don’t know if it will work and she didn’t take it… Thank you for trying.”

“Anything for my favorite couple. Now, I was serious when I said that I’m tired. But, one last word of advice, don’t wait to ask her. We don’t know know how many good days she has left and if this cure will work when she chooses to take it. Stop wasting time. You may have a good hundred years more, but her clock is ticking, Peanut. Don’t wait too long, only to regret it later.”

~~~

You were on Logan’s mind all day. You and Wade’s words about not wasting anymore time. He wasn’t try to waste time, at least that’s what he believed. What if you weren’t ready? What if he did something that pushed you away for good? At this point, Logan was sure that he couldn’t live without you. He is completely content to just be a friend in your life. To just love you without your love in return. He could live with that. But Wade had a point. Would he regret not trying something when it came down to it?

You could tell that Logan was stuck in his own mind, but didn’t push it as he helped you close up the bar. The two of you started walking home in silence. Logan’s hand that was nearest to you kept clenching and unclenching. He was debating on reaching for your hand, simply to see what would happen when he made a small move. So, taking a deep breath, Logan brushed his hand against yours. You immediately took a sharp inhale at the contact. Logan did it again, this time moving his fingers around your hand.

You yanked your hand away, immediately regretting it. You had simply become too self conscious of your hands because of how scarred they now were. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Logan’s face fall and his hands get stuffed into his jacket pockets. Guilt gnaws at you and you hate that you let your insecurities get the better of you. So you took a deep breath and looped your arm through Logan’s and leaned into him. Logan’s eyes went wide before he looked down at you. You can feel the tension release from his body as the two of you lean into each other.

The two of you walk slower, but it didn’t matter. You were both enjoying the silent time together and the connection. When the two of you finally reached your apartment door, you reluctantly pulled away.

“Thanks for walking me back, Lo,” you said quietly. There was something charged and changed between the two of you and you didn’t know what to do with it.

“Anytime, doll,” the edges of his lips barely lifted up, but it was enough for you to consider it a smile. “I… uh… I… Well, I was wondering if you, ummm, if you… you eat?”

“If I eat?”

“Fuck.” He raked his hand through his hair as he looked down at his feet, clearly nervous. “Of course you eat, we’ve had meals together. I’m a complete dumbass. What I’m meaning to say is… well, I… would you… I was wondering if you would like to do something tomorrow night… with me? Just the two of us.”

“Like a… date?”

“Uh, yes. Of course, if you don’t want to, please know that I take no offense. I know that this is—“

“Lo, stop, stop,” you placed a hand on his chest to try to stop his rambling. 

You paused as you could feel his rapidly beating heart. He was so nervous and it was both heartwarming and funny. You could feel your own heart begin to race. This was a big question he was asking and you knew that it could change the dynamics of your relationship. Were you willing to take that risk? You looked in Logan’s eyes and felt the safety and comfort that only came with him.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Lo.”

next chapter >

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[malum-forev]

Unexpected

“I can’t believe people actually fall for these kinds of things,” Bucky scoffs, flicking one of the drooping petals on the flower arrangement. “Ridiculous, right?”

He looks over at Sam, wanting some kind of backup from his partner, only to receive a shrug in response. Bucky rolls his eyes, having flowers delivered to the compound seemed so overplayed in his mind.

“No self respecting woman could actually want to date someone who outsources something like giving flowers.” Bucky mutters, his fingers itch to look at the card to see who they’re from. And more importantly, who they’re for.

“Can’t say I agree with you on this one Buck,” Sam leans back on the conference room chair, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. “Flower delivery is a normal thing in the modern world, not that I expected you to know. You’re not exactly the romantic type.”

He tries to not let Sam’s comment bug him, but it does. A lot. Back when he was alive the first time, Bucky was over the top. So over the top that some women’s knees physically buckled when they saw his gifts and acts of love. Sure, some of the things he only did to get into their pants but who cares, they were romantic nonetheless. 

Bucky tries to concentrate on your detailed plan for the mission but he’s done this a thousand times and could quite possibly complete this recon mission in his sleep and more importantly, the flower debacle is still present. The plastic vase sitting in the middle of the conference table taunts him. The folded card underneath it was basically begging for him to take a look.

He lingers after the meeting, saying some excuse about wanting to look over the documents when really, his curiosity is what’s keeping him seated. 

In his defense, your floor of the compound rarely gets any deliveries, let alone “romantic” ones. At least what people now think is romantic. Apart from Sam, himself and you, the other people on the floor are either married or forever alone. Leave the cheesy displays of affection for the lower level agents, the ones who still get the hots from one look.

Bucky looks both ways, making sure no one catches him as he slips the card from under the vase and reads it. 

Thought of you today. Have a nice week. 

“Nice week? What a loser.” Bucky blows raspberries, throwing the card back on the table. 

“Can I help you with something, Barnes?” Bucky jumps up in his spot as he hears your voice coming from behind him. 

“Just reading this extensive report,” Bucky lifts up the corners of the papers. “Great to know you have so much spare time.”

To say you and Bucky have a complicated relationship is an understatement. You think he’s a reckless agent that gets away with everything just because he was Captain America’s friend and he thinks that you aren’t reliable on the field because you second guess everything. Match made in heaven, right? Not a single mission you’ve been on has resulted in the two of you being civil. It always ends with a catfight and both of you trying to one up the other one.

“I don’t have time for this. Right now all I want is to go home and get some rest before we have to leave in a couple of days.” You roll your eyes, picking up some of the extra copies for the other agents you’re taking on the mission before grabbing the flowers from the table. 

“Are those yours?” Bucky’s voice pitches up, like he can’t seriously believe someone sent you flowers. 

“This is exactly what I don’t have time for.” You huff, leaving him behind in the conference room, wishing he’d just drop it. But knowing Barnes, and hearing his combat boots smack on the floor behind you, he won’t stop. 

“Who is he?” He raises his eyebrows, walking next to you, covering the elevator buttons with his hands so you can’t press either button. 

“Barnes,” You warn. “I’d rather not spend any more time with you than what’s required for my job.”

“Me neither,” Bucky nods. “So, if you can just tell me who sent you the flowers we can go on our way and not talk until we absolutely have to.”

“Does it matter who they’re from?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course it matters, I’ve never known you to like someone enough to give them your work address. I’ve never known you to like someone, period. So, yes, it matters.”

“Why would I tell you?” You quickly press the arrow pointing upwards as Bucky gets distracted with his dig at your non-existent love life. “So you can go and tell him what a big mistake he’s making?”

“That, and maybe I just want to know if he’s a real life breathing man.” He shrugs as you get in the elevator. “With eyes and ears and all those things one would need to know you really.”

“Great, thanks for the motivational talk I so didn’t need.” You flip him off as the doors close. 

-o-

Your head bounces against the side of the plane as you go through some turbulence but you try not to let it disturb you. But it’s something else that wakes you up, or rather, someone else. 

“I’ve come to the conclusion that he works somewhere in the compound.” Bucky drops his body in the seat next to you, his loud voice making your eyes snap open. 

“I’m resting before the mission,” You narrow your eyes at him. “And having you talk to me is messing that up.”

“You’re not disagreeing.” Bucky hums. 

“The only reason I haven’t flipped you over and dislocated your shoulder is because you have somehow gotten on Sam’s good side and I don’t want him giving me his disapproving father look.”

“Just tell me.” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes are looking straight into yours. 

“Tell you what?” You throw your head back with a groan. 

“Who the flowers are from.”

“You’re still on that?” You quirk one eyebrow.

“You never answered it.”

The questions seemed to have died down once you closed your eyes again but Bucky popped up whenever you expected him least.

You rummage through the office of the suspect that had just been killed. A doctor that was once Hydra had been trying to replicate the super soldier serum, the animal testing had been positive and a couple of dog sized rats still lived in his office. 

“Can you tell me what area he’s in?” Bucky leans on the doorframe and the sudden sound has you bringing your gun to his forehead. 

“I could have killed you just now,” You heave. “And I wish I would have, I think death is the only thing that’s going to stop you from asking all these questions.”

“You could just answer.” Bucky shrugs, looking both ways, making sure no one’s around.

“Why do you want to know?” You huff. 

“I want to know who’s romancing you.” Bucky acts like he doesn’t care, but the truth is that he’s spent the last few days with you and only you on his mind. 

The thought of you dating someone that does the bare minimum makes him frown. He’s never given a second thought to your dating life but if he had to rack his brain, Bucky would assume that you would date someone who’s competent enough to handle your wit and your moods, someone who gets your strength and doesn’t try to undermine you, someone who can handle the emotional baggage that comes with this job and doesn’t judge you. Someone who will hand deliver flowers to your apartment to show you he likes you, instead of having them delivered so that everyone thinks he likes you.

“Why do you care about my love life all of a sudden?” You snap at him and it actually stops him in his tracks. 

Bucky stares back at you with half a breath sucking in his lungs.

Love. 

You actually said the word love. 

Nothing’s ever happened between you two (except for that night the two of you spent cuddling together after neither of you wanted to sleep on the floor, but you swore you’d never speak of it again), but you’ve been a constant in Bucky’s life for years. And he doesn’t deal with change very easily. 

If you’re so freely talking about having a love life, as opposed to what? a like life? Get yourself together Barnes! he scolds himself, that means that soon enough you’ll be bringing this mediocre boyfriend around the tower, which means he’ll have to practice his “I’m trying to act like I care what you’re telling me” smile in the mirror while he’s bumped into the guy while you’re still getting ready because lord knows you love to take your sweet time getting ready! And that means that he’ll have to get a tux for your wedding because who would be stupid enough to not marry someone as intelligent and beautiful as you, and that means that you’ll take a leave for your honeymoon but knowing you, work will follow you to said honeymoon. You never stop working and Bucky’s warned you about your body taking a toll after all those years. 

“You’re one to talk.” He remembers you rolling your eyes at him the time he said it. 

God, your eyes. He’s going to miss your eyes. In the morning, you’ll look at him from over your boiling hot coffee cup. Bucky knows that you like to drink your coffee before the sun goes up because, in your words, I want to have at least a couple of minutes to myself before the world needs me. He’d never admit it to anyone but he sometimes acts like he’s had nightmares keeping him up at night just so he can share those quiet moments with you.

And after the tsunami of memories he won’t share with you anymore subsides, another wave comes crashing in. Soon you’ll be retiring, Bucky’s seen you with Morgan. It’s clear you want kids of your own some day. And you sure as hell won’t be having them when someone like Bucky Barnes is your partner. Bucky knows he’s a risk, he wouldn’t judge you if you thought it too. 

“Okay, we’re done here. I’m leaving, White Wolf hot on my heels.” You speak into the chip, making him snap out of his thoughts and return to Earth.

“As always, thanks for doing nothing, Barnes.” You laugh, slapping Bucky's shoulders as you pass him.

Bucky’s lungs burn as he runs alongside you down the corridor, trying to make up for all of the air he didn’t get as he spiraled. 

-o-

Bucky is up and it’s not because he heard the door hinges creak as you came inside or the slapping of your heels on the old wooden floor. It’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep since you left. 

He acted tired and fake yawned all the way to his room as you passed by, all maked-up and perfumed, when in reality he spent the rest of the night trying to decipher a video game someone recommended. 

Bucky’s verdict: I’ve been to war, I don’t need to play make believe. 

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds coming from the kitchen. You opened the fridge door and took a glass bottle of sorts out. From the cork popping, he figured out you were taking out your favorite wine. 

Bucky walks quietly towards the kitchen, not wanting to startle you. 

You gasp as you turn around, cork in your mouth and wine glass filled to the brim in your left hand. 

“I thought everyone would be asleep by now.” You spit the cork into the trash, lowering your face so your hair fans over your features. 

“Nightmares,” Bucky mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing at your unusual mannerisms. 

“Well, now you know who was out here.” You walk past him. “Goodnight Barnes.”

But before you can leave, Bucky holds your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You try to release from his grip but you know you’re no match for the vibranium arm. 

Bucky lifts up a trembling hand to your face and moves away your hair. Your normally bright eyes now look dull. Red blotching around your irises and black ink running down your face.

“You’ve been crying.” Bucky’s jaw tightens. 

“Thanks for that, Sergeant Obvious,” You scoff. “You’ve discovered my secret. I’m a living, breathing woman with feelings. I know they make you uncomfortable because you don’t have any but I do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m a person and as much as I would like to be as robotic as you are, sometimes people do things that hurt me.” You roll your eyes. “Next time I have feelings, I’ll make sure to take care of them before I enter the tower so you won’t be bothered.”

“Why are you crying?” He hisses, shutting his eyes before he sees red. “Who made you cry? Tell me a name and I’ll have them killed before dawn.”

“What?”

“No one makes my girl cry.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to understand what Bucky just said. The man who’s constantly bothering you and making your life quite impossible is threatening to kill someone just because you shed a couple of tears?

Bucky runs his hands down his face. “We’re wasting precious time here baby, just give me a name and I’ll do the rest.”

“You don’t care,” You tell him but his expression doesn’t change. “You’re not supposed to care. Why do you?”

“The other day, when you told me about the flower idiot, I may have realized something.” Bucky lets out a deep breath. “You’re my partner on the field but you’re much more than that in here.”

Your hand shakes as Bucky takes it and presses your palm flat on his chest. 

“I’m thinking of you when I wake up, hoping I catch you before you get ready. You’re on my mind when we’re training because I want to teach you everything I know, and I want you to teach me how you twisted the agent’s arm and dislocated his knee at the same time. Most of the times when we’re out on missions I’m reckless because I want to keep you safe. I don’t care what happens to me, you’re what needs to be taken care of. At night I dream of you, and then I wake up feeling hollow.”

“You’re too good for me and I know that but that doesn’t mean that some jackass can take you out and then make you cry. If that’s the standard then I’m way above average, baby.” Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “And I know you don't want me because, who would? But-”

You slam your lips on his, stopping him completely. 

Both of you are starved for touch, wanting to explore every inch of the other. His hands roam your body as yours get tangled in his hair. 

Heavy breathing takes over the kitchen as you separate. 

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” You rest your forehead on his. 

“Why did it take you so long to kiss me?”

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour@hallecarey1@aorifukuzawa@sammyssm@alana4610. @mrsjobarnes@vicmc624@unkasworld@theroyalmanatee@almosttoopizza@cjand10@cremebruleequeen@buggy14@jasminocano.@isabel-ffl-xoxo@wintrsoldrluvr@kandis-mom@12345sebby@tittittoee @unaxv. @teambarnes72@angelicrexi@she-wolf09231982@wilsons-striped-ties@tmb510@capswife@pono-pura-vida@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes@tatianah26@drewsuncrustable@minmiin1d

[thinking1bee]

Ooooooooo BESTIE 😩😩😩😩. You popped off with this one. It suddenly got ten degrees hotter in my room 🔥🔥🔥. Barking and howling at the moon dare I say 🫣

Also HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SWEETIE. I hope you had a good day 🎉🎂🥳🎈

speaking of vampire Kate Bishop, can you do one where reader is her familiar??

[This is 18+, if you are a minor or a man DO NOT INTERACT]

Title: All Too Familiar

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Top!Kate, Bottom!reader, Dom!Kate, Sub!reader, heavy dom/sub, strap sucking, blood drinking (She's a vampire I mean), degradation, pet names, mentions of death, mentions of ownership, Oral (Kate receiving),kind of mean Kate, horrible grammar

[A/n: Listen... listen... listen. I've read so much Dom Caitlyn Kiramman these last few weeks I needed to channel it somewhere and then the sinners trailer came out and you write what you know. This is the product of that. Don't flame me okay? Would be willing to write more of this universe if people are into it.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It was best to stay quiet in Katherine Bishop’s presence, something that did not have a learning curve, not like most lessons in life. There was a coolness about her that heralded any questions that may have rolled off the tongue in moments of question or anxiety. It was simply best to stay silent and act when Kate needed you to act. Move when she needed you to move. Present the underbelly of your wrist or the expanse of your throat when she gestured with her lithe finger to do so.

Habits that she had learned from her mother, of course.

Your stare was often downcast. You’d become quite familiar with the pearl flooring in Kate’s office, the way that the lines intersected. She had a heavy way of writing, and you found comfort in the subtle scent of the ink pen against parchment. Her sighs would become heady throughout the day of work. Sometimes her movements would stop altogether. That worried you more than not. Her office was too high up to train your hearing on the sounds of the city below, heightened hearing or not.

She tightened her hand around the crystal glass, once filled halfway with whiskey, now empty safe for a few drops at the bottom. It threatened to shatter, something that you heard in a desperate creak. Eleanor was too infatuated with digging through her purse to pick up on the noise.

You, however, moved in tune with your masters distress. You took the glass before it had the chance to shatter and slice into Kate’s skin. It would be more of a mess to clean up later. Wordlessly, you prepared Kate another drink with fresh ice, pouring more whiskey from the decanter and supplying her with something to make this impromptu visit a little more bearable before returning to her side.

Eleanor scoffed, “You’ve trained her so well.”

“It’s a wonder what you can achieve with positive reinforcement.”

Your eyes had returned to the spot on the floor, hands tucked into an impudent position at the small of your back. Positive reinforcement. That wasn’t exactly what you would attribute your obedience to. It was a mix of pure fear and subsequent pleasure. The taste of yourself against her lips when she chose to reward you, which wasn’t often.

“There’s nothing positive about a familiar, dear. They’re disposable. You should never get too attached.” She had finally found what she was looking for, a small metal container of rolled clove cigarettes. Kate hated when her mother smoked in here, but would never speak against it. “Never met one I couldn’t drain, and never met one I couldn’t replace.”

“What can I help you with?”

Kate’s voice was tight, clipped enough to earn a flat look behind the flame of the woman’s lighter. Gold plated and matching with the case that she found without too much issue. An ash tray was pushed across the desk for convenience. Kate swallowed half of her drink in one, fluid gulp and didn’t faulter under her mothers scrutiny like any hard-willed man would.   

The coldness of Eleanor’s stare was on you, sharp and prying. She’d never approved of you. Not in the three years that you’d been by Kate’s side. Her questions, when she did speak to you, were nothing short of insulting. She asked about your personal life as if you had any outside of Kate. As if you remembered what or who you were before the woman that you served. She toyed incessantly with you until Kate batted her away.

She leaned back into the plush of her chair and blew out a cloud of green smoke. “Well, your father would like you to attend dinner tomorrow night. The heirs to the Romanov family and the Murdock family will be there.”

“This could have been a phone call.”

“That would make it much easier for you to decline, darling.” She tutted, taking another drag, speaking around the exhale of fire like a dragon “Matthew will be there, and I expect you to be cordial.”

“You expect me to sit on his lap and stroke his ego among other things.”

You swallowed down a laugh that threatened to bubble from your chest. Surely Eleanor would grab the nearest fountain pen and pin you to the nearest wall with the tip through the center of your throat without a second thought. She’d pen a letter to whatever family you had remaining with your bubbling blood and delight in the task. You made sure your expression was downturn, your breath even.

Kate didn’t bother hiding her smirk. She swallowed another gulp of her drink, swirling the ice around like an instrument and quirking an eyebrow as it to dare the woman to say something more. The heirs of New Yorks undercity were meant to wed. Especially when they were frozen in time as they so often were.

Eleanor leaned forward and stamped out her cigarette, clearly perturbed. “You’ll be there. I don’t care how much of a recluse you want to be. Really, Katherine. I don’t know what you do all do in that big house all alone.”

“I’m not alone.” She snapped.

“Her?” Eleanor gestured vaguely at you. Standing in something of a fit. You held yourself firm, just like any familiar would. It was embedded deep within your bones. Feet like lead and a stature like stone. She threw her bag over her shoulder and huffed in your general direction. “I don’t know where we went wrong with you, but we taught you better than that, Kate.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You taught me to treat my things with respect.”

“That’s just it, Katherine.” Eleanor turned, sauntering towards the door. “You always become too attached to your toys and throw too heavy a fit when you break them.”

Kate stared dangerously at the closed mahogany door long after her mother had left. She finished off the rest of her drink and held the empty glass out to you. Words weren’t needed, the clenched of her jaw and the raggedness of her breathing was enough for you to catch the tenseness of her stature. The thickness of the air could have been enough of the clue. The scent of her distress.

When you became Kate’s familiar, she gave you a fraction of a fraction of her power. It was customary. Eleanor gave even less to her familiars. The few moments that you shared conversations with the constant revolving doors of scared faces that wandered the Bishop estate, you had smelled it on them. The years that you had been with your master were considered scarce for a familiar. But it paled in comparison to others.

The practice was dwindling, but a certain connection had found itself embedded between yourself and Kate that you were thankful for. You were stronger physically for it. Mentally. You aged at a slower pace, meant to match her vigor and her stamina. Meant to feed her when she needed it, though if she tried hard enough she could render you dead. You were built to serve her in any way possible and that you did.

Kate was mostly well-behaved. Mostly.

She went on benders. You knew how to hide the evidence of them well. What chemicals removed the sordid stains of blood, and which people were easy to make vanish. Where to dispose of evidence where it would never be found. Blackouts for Kate were few and far between and she’d tire herself out with ease, even allowing you to clean her up and draw the curtains until the exhaustion was expelled from her bones.

 It had been a good four months since the last relapse, the middle of summer and stifling month that had coated your body in a horrible sweat as you broke soft ground, thankful for the cover of night at the edge of her property. You’d managed to coax Kate into bed as the sun rose, face smeared with russet blood and shirt just as soaked. You had just disposed of two women, worse for wear and cloudy-eyed, as naked as the day they were born.

Kate had mumbled something, dragging an arm over her lips, fangs peaking out of her mouth. You had frowned at her, not understanding. She couldn’t possibly be hungry or unsettled but her hand gripped onto yours with such a fervor that indicated both.

She pulled you on top of her with little use of her strength. You never fought her, never would, tumbling into the coolness of her skin, the tinny scent of her. Kate’s arms around you that day were like a vice, you’d tensed against her chest and breathed in the mix of soil and blood and the natural vanilla at her throat. A growl rumbled through her. A pitiful and groggy stay.

That had been the first day you heard her heart. In her actions and in the cavity of her chest. You’d counted thirty seconds between each beat until her vice grip had gone slack around you. And still, you didn’t move. You let her breathing lull you into sleep yourself, let the exhaustion of cleaning her mess ebb you into unconsciousness. Let the blood dry as she held you close without the intention to wound.

You woke in your bed the next morning, and scrubbed black dirt from your nails.

Again, you filled her glass with whiskey. It took more than three glasses of top-shelf stuff to get her even slightly buzzed. She’d need something with a pulse to give her the high she was seeking. Your fingers brushed when you handed off the crystal glass and she leveled you with a dangerous stare.

“Lock the door.”

You nodded solemnly before crossing the expanse of the office and switching the deadbolt with an intimidating click. If you were bold enough to take a deep breath, she’d hear it. The employees that wandered the halls were bright enough to knock, and even if they didn’t get a response, the stagnant doorknob would be enough to turn them away. Part of you figured Kate would be delighted by an intrusion.

Kate had rounded the desk and shed her blazer by the time you made your way back to her. She was nothing but lean muscles and alluring musk. It was natural for her kind, exuding something that drew prey to predator. Even after all these years your mouth never stopped watering for her.  

She tilted her head to the side. There was a quiet emotion about her that you weren’t expecting as she used her index finger to direct your gaze to her own. Her stare, grey and hypnotizing, made your stomach swirl. “You don’t think I’m going to break you, do you, pet?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You swallowed, despite you throat being dry. It made an odd sound. You were unable to look away from her. Kate’s grip had tightened against your chin but not to the point of hurting you. It would defeat the purpose of her question. She’d left marks on you before. To claim you. To run her tongue over. To prove a point.

Your words came out in a whisper, stare hardened. “I want you to break me.”

Kate let out a guttural groan that was far from human. It was primal. Sensual. Her eyes flashed a dangerous and glorious red and her mouth was suddenly crowded with the familiar sight of canine teeth. The hand that was gripping your chin slipped deliciously down to your throat with a warning squeeze. Her exhale was shaky.

You took pride in undoing her in little ways like this. Of course, you were at Kate’s mercy. Her plaything, already feeling a wetness pool between your legs that you knew she could smell at the simple gesture of her power. But there was something about knowing how much she wanted to undo you in the first place that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem.” Kate purred, pressing her cool lips against the corner of your mouth. It was painfully slow. Your eyes fluttering shut. She was methodical, working her touch across your jaw biting and nipping your pulse point and soothing it with the warmth of her tongue. “I’m not as prepared as I’d like to be. I need you on your knees, darling.”

Lost in pure bliss of her ministrations, you needed the extra shove of her hand to follow the order. You always rejoiced in her roughness, bracing yourself by working at her belt. When you slid her pressed pants and underwear down her legs, you came face to face with a harness and a firm purple dildo, an item that you were quite familiar with.

A scoff left your lips, Kate’s hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back with severity and a devilish smile. You gasped, letting a whimper slip through your lips. “I thought you said you weren’t prepared.”

“Mm, you read too much into things baby.” She pouted mockingly. “We just have to get things wet the old-fashioned way.”

Kate pushed you forward, wicking her fingers through your hair. Your lips wrapped around the tip of silicone, eyes never leaving hers. Grey slowly bled into a muddy brown as lust swirled within them. You’d always taken her well, running your tongue over her length and swallowing half of her without prompting.

Kate was a patient woman where it counted but had the impatience of an only child raised in a wealthy home. Her nails dug into the nape of your neck as you hummed around her cock. “There you go, such a good girl. So eager.”

“What a little whore. Ready to take my dick down her throat.” She started to rut forward, pressing into you with an eagerness. Her other hand grabbing the back of your head. You gagged around her length, a needy little sound that has Kate smiling in an annoyingly cocky way.

You take all of Kate like a greedy thing, and she knows all about being greedy. She moans languidly when your lips reach the base and you choke around her as she fucks into your mouth. Your nose reaches the curled hair of her cunt. She saws back and forth with consistent motions. “Taking me so well, baby.”

“Mmf-“The sound that escapes you is akin to a moan when she pulls back, a line of saliva connecting you to the strap. Thick and leash-like as you pant close to the massive tip. Kate scratches a hand through your hair, a gesture of gratitude and warm, your jaw aching and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You felt fuzzy, pulled in entirely by her charm. By her hands that felt like they were everywhere and nowhere all at once. The way she had eased you back into a standing position and her lips were suddenly on your swollen ones. You tasted the whiskey on her tongue as she started to work at the buttons on your shirt. The air in her office was warm but still put goosebumps on your arms.

“Don’t sulk, pet. That was to aide you, after all.” You were lifted onto her desk, Kate standing between your legs, her words whispered into your mouth. “My mother was right about one thing, you know. You are quite obedient. I’m so glad we trained that little bratty streak out of you.”

She tapped your knee and you dutifully arched yourself from the solid surface of the desk so she could pull your pants and underwear down, discarding them in the corner with her own. You were fully exposed to her, her free hand palming your breast and pulling a gasp from you as she pinched a pebbled nipple between her thumb and index finger. She surged forward and licked the inside of your mouth, swallowing the groan.

You arched up, trying to push into the knee that was between your legs. “Mm, a desperate little thing, aren’t we.”

“Please, Kate.” You whimpered. “I need you to touch me.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I’ve been so good.”

“You’ve been acceptable.”

She drags the head of her cock against your dripping slit. You draw in a breath and fall into her, not expecting the sudden contact. Your dripping with anticipation, ruining the varnish on her desk, you’re sure. She chuckles cruelly and you feel the vibration in her chest. She’s moved her attention from nipping at your jaw to your throat.

“Relax, sweetheart.” She mumbled against you “I’m not as cruel as you make me out to be.”

Kate drags the tip down, teasing your entrance. Your pulse picks up, your breathing stuttered. You dig your nails into the expanse of her back. This is as close as Kate ever lets you get; in moments of ecstasy when your bare chest is pressed against hers, her teeth scraping just hard enough to draw the barest bit of blood.

When she pushes her length into you, it’s in one strong motion that makes you cry into the small of her neck and fist the rich fabric of her shirt. Still, you’re desperate enough to wrap your legs around her waist to hold her close to you as if she’ll pull away and never enter you again. You feel so full, so taken care of for just a moment that the thought of her pushing back is too much to bear. She seems to sense your desperation, let’s you revel in it for a moment.

Kate starts out with a rapid pace that makes sweat form on your brow, grinding into you deep. You whimper with each thrust. Fist her shirt and allow her to fuck you diligently into her desk. The glass of whiskey rattles and falls to the floor before shattering into broken pieces, rivaling with you punctured breaths and Kate’s snarled exhales.

“Easy,” She hisses “Be a good girl and take everything I give you.”

Something is coiling inside you, ramping up as she pushes against the spot where you need her most. Kate’s thumb brushes your clit in slow circles, drawing another punctured moan from the recesses of your throat. She knew exactly how to work you up. You lolled your head to the side, exposing your throat to her.

Kate liked a stripe across your neck, dragging the tip of her canines against your skin.

“Kate… ah-ah” You trembled under her, fingers curling into the collar of her shirt “I’m about to… please.”

She nudged the coolness of her nose against your pulse point. You heard your blood rushing past your ears. She knew how close you were. Could feel the tightness around the strap as she pounded into you. All you needed was approval. You were holding on by a thread, clinging to her. Reliant on her and only her.

“Shit,” Kate breathed against your throat, “let go, pet. Let go.”

Kate ground deeper into you, your nails digging into her back as she doubled down on her efforts. Your climax washed over you as her canines pierced the vein in your neck; her favorite one that bled brilliantly. She hummed in bliss as you dropped your head back in a silent euphoria, letting her venom course though you. Kate, to her credit, pumped in and out of you, helping you ride through your orgasm.

You came undone under her touch, shaking and twitching and becoming a fucked-out mess on the center of Kate’s desk as she had her fill and tensed herself on top of you in her own orgasmic bliss, getting off on the taste of the metallic mouthfuls of her familiar; a connection unmatched with sweetness.

Kate pulled her teeth from your neck with a stinging pop, pressing her lips to yours. The flavor of your own blood mixing into your pallet was sweet, something of rapture. It created a haze around you that made the soreness of her slipping out of you less damning.  

She was a messy eater, had you all over her. Panted and used the base of her palm to smear you across her chin. She panted wildly and blinked the red from her eyes. “You okay?”

Your voice trembled with rasp. “…Yeah.”

“Good. I have a feeling I’ll need some more stress relief before this dinner” Kate tucked a damp piece of hair behind your ear in a rare moment of tenderness. “Clean this mess up.”

[lightlyblooming]

I have made the brave decision to return to my old Marvel fanfic tumblr. This choice was made entirely because of Rio Vidal and sapphic relationships becoming canonical in the MCU.

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[munsster]

sharing a bed (trope bingo)

A/N: i could melt (pun not intended. you’ll see) this trope is literally my fav, all my fics would be about it if i could… (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're cold, Bucky's a living heater. Need I say more? 1.2k words

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, sharing a bed, cuddling, nervous/borderline horny Bucky, pet names (doll, sweetheart)

You should have made this decision before your fingertips went numb. November in a northern motel room found you freezing. In basketball shorts and a crewneck, no less. You should have been in California by now, but Bucky has been dragging his feet since Maine. Though, he does drive more than half the time, so it's a sacrifice you had been willing to take.

There's no snow on the ground, but you can feel the beginnings of it on the damp pavement. Your socks are soaked through, and you cringe making a mental note to burn them. You cross your arms over your chest and tuck your fingers under your armpits, jaw clacking as you shiver. The heater in your room scuttled hurriedly to a wheezing stop five minutes after whacking it alive.

Now you're shifting from left to right outside Bucky's door with your blood about to run purple. He hollered something through the door when you knocked the second time. It was either a it's unlocked or a don't come in and you don't trust your hearing enough to distinguish between the two at midnight.

"Bucky," you whine, resting your forehead just below the peephole and trying to shake the low beating sound from your ears. You lift your head. Footsteps then a rattling chain, and he whips the door open.

"Why are you up?"

"What?" How could he be annoyed right now when you're freezing your ass off and you can practically feel the heat rolling out of his room in waves. "I'm cold."

"Well... what am I supposed to do about that?"

You roll your eyes and glare up at him. You could swear he's doing it on purpose. You could swear he's making mental bets just to play with you. Right now he's betting all his cash on who'll crack first. His bet's on you. It always is.

"James, I swear to fucking God—I will walk back to Brooklyn if you don't—"

"Jesus, don't have an aneurism, doll. Come in," he mumbles. You follow him into the little square motel room: one bed, one table, half a bathroom. Plus a TV that only plays soaps and, half the time, crackles with static. The door shuts, and you sigh. You're swaddled by heat; the blood gushes back into the tip of your nose. You can feel your joints again.

"Take this." He tosses a coat at you. At you. It's heavy and green and thick. It's army grade. "Put it on." So you put it on and zip it up. He chuckles at the sight of you because the jacket is massive: down to your knees, quarter-foot past your fingertips. It dwarfs you. It's incredible.

"I feel like a gym teacher."

"What?"

"It's a... mm… nevermind," you hum, "'M tired." Your eyes sink shut, and he watches you from the bed, entertained by your sleep-standing act. For a second, he thinks you're actually gonna fall asleep like that. But then your eyes snap wide open and he looks away.

Bucky shuffles under the sheets, and you watch him curiously through the window of the coat's hood. You suppose you'd missed the fact that he's wearing only boxers, completely shirtless with his cropped hair messily flared around his head. You start to sweat.

He looks up when you whine. "What now?"

"... It's hot."

"You're killin' me, doll."

"I know, I'm sorry," you huff, hands fiddling the flannel insides of the hot jacket sleeves. He watches you struggle to glance at the floor and becomes flush with pity for you. He sighs.

"Alright, hon, take that off and c'mere. We'll get you warm, hmm? Come here."

You flail your arm before latching onto the metal zipper tab and tugging it down with a hissing bzzzz. Bucky watches you relax and let the coat slump to the floor before you peel your socks off and toss them in the small metal trashcan by the door. You pad your way to the empty side of the bed and pat the moth-eaten comforter a few times, smoothing your hand over the soft cotton.

"Don't be shy now. I probably won't bite," he teases.

"You piss me off, Barnes."

"Oh, feel free to freeze your ass off in your room, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor."

You harrumph and swing your legs onto the mattress, sliding yourself under the sheets and tucking the blankets under your chin. You face the door, and Bucky settles in beside you, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between you. He faces the wall.

"Night, Bucky."

"Goodnight."

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, and you don't know when Bucky got so close. Or when you turned around. What you do know is that Bucky runs red hot in the middle of the night. Or maybe all the time, but you've never been skin-to-skin in the day. Hell could freeze over and Bucky would still be an inferno.

Sometime between two and three, you tossed around and ended up facing him as he crept closer unconsciously. His hands felt empty in dreams about dancing, so he reached into the darkness and tucked his fingers into the crooks of your knees to draw you into his warm body. On instinct—and because you're still in need of thawing—you curl into him and let your heart beat comfortably alongside his.

Bucky's a talker. He's a vocal sleeper. Good thing his deal was talking. Becca got saddled with sleep walking, and he remembers Ma asking him to install an extra lock high up to keep her from wandering out at twilight. Again. They'd found her mumbling at a brick wall half a block away one night and decided it was for the best.

Now he's rambling on about goats, describing their rough coats as he nuzzles into your navel. His palm spread over your back, he keeps you close, taut to every bit of his body, your leg draped over his waist.

He moans. Loud. And you shift in your sleep, fingers moving to cup the back of his head, brushing through his soft hair. His scalp is hot, and you sigh lazily as you melt further into his tight skin and smooth muscle. If either of you had woken up, it would've been a bloodbath. But for now, it's peaceful, and a dove coos from a lamppost outside.

A couple of times, you open your eyes but find yourself so disoriented, you can't bother to assume it's anymore than a dream and pass out again. At the crack of dawn, Bucky's lashes flutter open, and each of his veins flows with new life and the rising sun. It takes a second for him to realize he's breathing in the warmth of your skin. And he doesn't hate it.

He falls back asleep.

In the morning, you're both too busy adjusting to central standard time to register that you'd been pressed up close and personal all night. Too busy to acknowledge the comfort you both found in each others arms. And hands.

Over breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner, he smiles meekly, and you blink down at your short stack like nothing happened. Like nothing ever will.

marvel masterlist

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”