#Mob! Bucky

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [37] - Crown

A.N: Last two chapters! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, violence, I'M SERIOUS THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THIS ONE, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, it started out as a normal day.

“You are so pretty!” you told Alpine as you fixed the ribbon around her neck, then held up the feathery pen so that she could jump at it while you sat on the floor. “Yes you are! The prettiest princess in the entire world!”

“Charm?”

“Over here!” you called out and heard Bucky come downstairs, then he filled himself a cup of coffee before looking over his shoulder.

“You want some babe?”

“Nope,” you said, stroking Alpine’s fur. “Bucky, what are the chances that we got the prettiest and nicest cat in the entire world?”

“Zero, she’s an asshole.”

You gasped. “Hey!”

“I love her, but it doesn’t mean she’s not an asshole,” Bucky said. “She never comes when I call.”

“Because she’s a cat, not a dog,” you said. “If we have a child one day, we’re so calling them Alpine Two.”

“We’re not going to do that.”

“Alpine Two and Alpine Three.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t listen to him, they’ll be Alpine Two and Three,” you told Alpine as Bucky sipped his coffee.

“Do you wanna grab lunch today?”

“I can’t,” you said. “I promised Ethan.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am not having this argument with you again when we’re in love and fucking each other’s brains out every night,” you pointed out, making him grin. “Relax with the jealousy dumbass, you already know I’m in love with you.”

He heaved a sigh, then held up his hands.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Go meet the puppy.”

“Bucky.”

“Is he not a puppy around you?”

“He’s my friend,” you said. “My friend whom I haven’t met in a while.”

“Yeah yeah…”

You scratched at Alpine’s head when she head bumped your knee while Bucky tilted his head.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird since we had dinner at your father’s place.”

“Sure,” you said after a beat and he raised his brows.

“Charm.”

“No I’m fine,” you said. “I’m fine, I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

“Business,” you said. “My father’s business, to be specific.”

He sipped his coffee. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“God no,” you said. “Of course not. I’m thinking about the consequences of it, that’s all. What it will mean for me.”

“It means the crown for you.”

You pursed your lips together. “And for Ian?”

He scoffed. “Who cares? You hate Ian.”

“Obviously I hate him,” you said. “But I’ll have to kill him, you do know that.”

“He signed his own death warrant the moment he accepted that heir position at the expense of you,” Bucky said. “I’ll kill him for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “How fucked up is it that I find this romantic?”

“That’s because I am romantic,” he said with a smirk. “Seriously. If you want me to—”

“I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it,” you pointed out. “I appreciate the offer though.”

Bucky checked his wristwatch, then came closer to you to kiss you on the top of your head, and scratched at Alpine’s head.

“Gotta go,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Sure!” you said and watched him walk out of the apartment, then heaved a sigh and looked down at Alpine.

“Alright,” you said. “Come on, let’s get you some treats.”

                                             *

The café Ethan had suggested was in your father’s territory, so it was a short car drive. Seeing that the weather was slowly getting cold nowadays, it didn’t surprise you to see Ethan already inside the nearly empty café as you walked in, and waved at him before making your way to him.

“Hey!” you said and he stood up to hug you.

“Hey stranger,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“It really has,” you said, motioning for a cup of coffee at the waitress who forced a smile, then disappeared into the kitchen. You frowned slightly, but then turned to look at Ethan when he cleared his throat.

“So what’s been up with you lately?”

“Absolute chaos,” you pointed out, making him smile. “No seriously, things are just now starting to calm down.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah there was this business thing,” you muttered. “Never mind. How about you? What have you been doing lately?”

“I’m actually…” he paused for a moment. “I’m actually moving back to my hometown.”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

“I don’t think New York is for me,” he said as you heard the wind bells chime by the door. “Or any big city for that matter.”

You opened your mouth to ask why, but a strange shiver went down your spine, the hair at the back of your neck rising up as his eyes went over your shoulder. You didn’t even have the time to think, your body seemed to have responded on instinct as the result of many years of training, so you kicked the table in his direction and jumped to your feet, but before you could turn around, two men had already grabbed you by the arms. You managed to kick one of them, turning around to punch the other, but another man caught your fist and turned you around, his friend punching you right on the nose so hard that you knew from the crack that he broke it before the blinding pain shot through your face. You stumbled back as two of them held you by the arms again and another one grabbed his gun, flipped it and slammed it on your head.

Then everything went black.

                                              *

You couldn’t tell which one woke you up, the cold or the burning pain starting from your nose and spreading through your whole head. Your vision was blurry when you forced yourself to open your eyes, now realizing your hands were bound and a groan left your lips as you blinked as fast as you could to see better.

Ah.

Two of Ian’s men were waiting by the door along while Ethan sat across from you, his eyes fixed on the floor. You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you forced yourself to focus, there had to be a way out of this—

You just needed to find it.

The room you were in appeared to be a butcher’s freezer, which made you think you were at the edge of your father’s territory. The pain in your head was so heavy that you could barely just hold your head up, let alone moving your body so you gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath through your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you heard Ethan’s voice and you turned your head to see him looking down at the gun in his lap, your hands shooting up to wipe the blood on your face before touching your forehead.

Okay, that needed stitches.

“You’re sorry?” you repeated with a dry laugh. “How long have you been working for him?”

He shook his head fervently, rubbing his thumb over the gun.

“I don’t—I didn’t—” he stammered. “He contacted me couple of months ago.”

You raised your brows. “Let me guess, he’s paying you a shit load of money?”

He shook his head again.

“He said…he said he’d kill me if I didn’t...” he muttered. “For God’s sake I never wanted this whole bullshit, I don’t even know how to use—” he pushed at the tiny button beside the gun, the magazine dropping to the floor and a couple of bullets scattering around as one of Ian’s men came closer.

“What the fuck?” he asked him, snatching the gun out of his hand and picking up the magazine before walking to the other side of the room to continue his conversation with the other man. You gritted his teeth, anger pulsing through you.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan repeated and you shook your head.

“You know you’re going to die right?” you asked him. “You’ve just signed your own death warrant by pulling this shit.”

“Civilians aren’t harmed, that’s what the truce—”

“Civilians aren’t harmed as long as they remain civilians,” you corrected him, pulling at the rope around your wrists to loosen it a little. “You’ve just thrown your hat in the ring, buddy. And trust me; if Ian doesn’t kill me, I’ll kill you and if he does manage to kill me, Bucky will hunt you down, and kill you. Torture you first probably too. So regardless of if I die or not, you definitely will Ethan.”

“I’ll move out of the city.”

“There’s no city we can’t reach.”

“That’s not true,” he argued with you. “Everyone is saying Chicago is its own city.”

A small smile curled your lips despite fear churning your stomach, a small spark of satisfaction rushing through you.

“Right,” you said. “Sure. Move to Chicago.”

He swallowed thickly, then turned his head when the door opened and Ian walked in with Ryan. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes fell on your face, but then he gritted his teeth, snapping something at the men by the door under his breath. It was impossible to hear what he had said, but judging by the way it made them step back, it couldn’t be anything nice.

“Hi there cousin,” Ian had the audacity to smile at you as Ethan stood up from his chair.

“I can go right?” he said. “You promised.”

“Sure, some of our boys will accompany you to the border of the city, then you’re on your own,” Ian said. “Thank you for this. New York will owe you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring up at Ian as Ethan walked out of the room and Ian tut tutted.

“You just couldn’t help it, could you?” he asked you. “All you had to do was just marry Barnes and give him an heir, and then you could spend money and do nothing for the rest of your life, but you just couldn’t do it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Those are some big words for someone who’s about to die.”

No.

You couldn’t let panic take over your mind, you just couldn’t.

The safest option was to cling to anger.

“You don’t get to kill me and stay alive, Ian.”

“Oh I won’t be the one who killed you,” he said. “Your ex-boyfriend did. Everyone saw him meet you at that café after all.”

“And you think my dad will buy that bullshit?”

“I’ll make him buy it.”

“You think Bucky will buy that?” you spat and he shrugged his shoulders.

“No, he will come after me,” Ian said. “And that’ll start a war. Too bad.”

You gritted your teeth. “You don’t have the means to survive a war, dickhead.”

“You have no reason to worry about that,” Ian said. “You’re not walking out of here alive after all.”

You licked your lips, the metallic taste of blood reaching your throat as Ian nodded at his men.

“Untie her.”

One of his men came to cut the rope around your wrist and helped you up while the other one pointed his gun at you just in case. The whole room was spinning around you, your heart beating in your throat but you tried to fix your breathing.

It was fine.

It was going to be fine.

“Ryan, my gun,” Ian ordered and Ryan stared at you, then pulled out the gun from his waistband, quickly taking out the magazine to check the bullets before sliding it in again.

“Leave us,” Ian said and Ryan licked his lips, stealing a look at you before he walked outside with the rest of Ian’s men following him. He slammed the heavy door behind them and you clenched your fists, still glaring at Ian.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ian said, pointing the gun at your face. “I did, numerous times. Get on your knees.”

“No,” you said. “If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to kill me standing.”

Ian took a deep breath, then swallowed thickly.

“As you wish,” he said and raised the gun a little to aim for your forehead, the fear making your eyes burn but you quickly blinked the tears back, forcing yourself to focus on—

Bucky.

It was strange, how it worked. Everyone talked about how this business was dangerous, but no one talked about what one would think when there was a gun about to blow their head off.

There was fear yes, but the memory of happiness shed a small ray of sunlight on it. Knowing Bucky would stop at nothing to take your revenge almost soothed the pain of knowing you would never see him again, at least—

At least in this life.

But you knew you loved him. He knew you loved him.

That was enough, somehow. Even with a gun pointing at your head.

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” Ian recited. “Goodbye, cousin.”

You closed your eyes, holding your breath and bracing yourself for the deafening gunshot but the only thing that echoed through the room was the empty click, making your eyes snap open while Ian gawked at the gun in his hand, fear flashing over his face as he froze.

…Ryan.

Ryan had taken out the bullets.

The adrenaline that roared through you was powerful enough to overcome the fog in your brain or the pain on your face as you lunged at him to knock the gun out of his hand, slamming him back to the heavy door, the unmistakable sound of gunshots echoing outside. Ian shoved you back as hard as he could and tried to swing a punch at you but you quickly dodged it, elbowing him on the nose.

“Welcome to your cage fight, Ian,” you spat as he wiped at his nose.

“You dumb bitch…” he muttered, then swung at you again but you quickly stepped back, grabbed his wrist and turned it with all your strength until you heard the pop, and his yell of pain. He kicked you on the knee hard, making you scream out of pain as you stumbled back, and he tried to grab at you with his other hand but you had already punch him right in the neck, making him gasp and fall on his knees, clutching at his neck.

“You know,” you said, breathing hard as you grabbed the gun off the floor and picked up one of the bullets Ethan had dropped earlier. “I should thank you for this. I was having second thoughts earlier, but now…”

He was still gasping for air as you slid the magazine out, put the bullet inside and slid it back again, making him drag himself back on his palms until his back hit the wall.

“Exile me,” he managed to say, and you tilted your head. “Exile me somewhere else.”

You shook your head, adrenaline making your head spin.

“You know how this shit goes,” you said through clenched teeth. “You tried to kill me. Exiling you isn’t enough.”  

“I’ll forfeit the title!” he said, still breathless and you shook your head again, then pointed the gun at him with a sigh.

“I'm sorry Ian,” you said. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

With that, you pulled the trigger and heard the loud bang before the blood splattered over your face, making you grimace as his body slipped on the floor. You wiped at your face, then slammed open the door to point the gun at whoever was outside, but the only thing you could see was Ian’s men bleeding on the ground while Ryan stood by the door, his back straight as if he was waiting for your order.

“Ma’am,” he said with his hands clasped behind him, and he bowed his head a little as you smiled at him.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, raising your head to stare up at the dark sky before turning to him. “Ryan, is there any chance you’re looking for a new job?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

“Working for your father’s heir would be an honor, ma’am,” he said softly and you let out a small laugh.

“Good,” you said as you limped to the car parked right outside the back alley with Ryan following you. “You’re hired.”

Chapter 38

[bigtreefest]

You Catch More Bees With Honey Masterlist

A Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader Series

Part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Main Masterlist

Series Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

1. Digging For Gold

2. Ouch, That Stings

3. Honey Trap

4. Under Pressure

5. From the Ground Up

6. San Antonio Stroll

7. Have a Cow

8. Golden Hour

8b. Last Night

9. Looking Over Fences

10. When a Friend Asks for Help

11. Barn Burner

12. Tippin’ Tractors, Takin’ Names

13. You Look Like…

14. Midnight Mess Around

15. Feel Like This

16. More Than Me

Drabbles & Extras

Hop to It (Easter at the farm)

Shared Things (ask answer)

Honeybee vs Decks Character Distinctions

How the Outta Nowhere AU Chapters line up

[ramp-it-up]

Taste

Pairing: Mob Boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic); Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic); Brock Rumlow x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: around 4K

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Childhood hoods, childhood crush, childhood nicknames based upon appearance, young Brock, Steve, Bucky and Sam, skinny Stevie Rogers, sibings being sibings, bratty behavior, Angst, allusion to underage drinking and crime, toxic parents, protective bothers, allusions to underaged drinking, bratty behavior, a punch in the nose (accidental), bloody nose, shirtless Sam, kind of innocent reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) loss of virginity, pain during sex, p in v, raw sex (wrap it or don’t tap it), praise kink, after care. This entire fic is comprised of two flashbacks.

A/N: This is in the same AU Try a Little Tenderness and The Representative, and comes directly after Addicted To You. The AU is called This Thing of Ours.

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I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were ten years old, it was 2002, and you were spending the summer in Brooklyn at your father’s house. 

It was long before the mob war that he created which separated your brother Brock from his best friends. 

And it was a time that would change you forever.

The July afternoon was hot and so was the block. Music was blaring from the speakers of someone’s radio and there was a buzz in the air: adolescence, ambition and a potential for violence. 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book/Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up/Where them gangstas at?/ Where them dimes at?/They shootin'! Aw, made you look

They called you Bunny because of your teeth and your size. But you were a scrapper and could stand up for yourself. Your father taught you that. 

You also had a smart mouth, and roasted anyone who dared talk about you or your family. 

Your mother taught you that. 

When you came to your father’s house while your mother took her annual girls trip that summer, you found that your big brother was suddenly different. Gone was the quiet gangly 12 year old who drew up plans for world domination in composition books in his room; a wiry 13 year old who had friends who were just as scrappy and hungry as he was had taken his place.

Little Stevie Rogers never backed down from a fight. That’s where his best friend Bucky Barnes came in, backing him up when Stevie was against the wall. Brock was the kid with vision, the one who had a plan to get them where they wanted to be.

In power.

Your brother tried to ignore you, but you trailed after him because there was nothing better to do. One day, you sat in the stoop and watched him and his friends working to open the fire hydrant across the street from your dad’s house.

Your brother felt your eyes on them as you hugged your knees.You were a sight, bushy hair, glasses, braces, and an intense look on your face. He felt bad. 

For a second.

“Why don’t you go on over there and play dolls with Shandy and “n’em, Bunny?”

You glanced over at the girls playing on the next stoop, their braids wilting in the sun. They were playing with stiff dolls with stiff plastic hair and legs that didn’t bend. Not your scene.

You just poked your tongue out at him and moved to stand in the water now dripping out of the hydrant, your strawberry sneakers with the bows getting drenched. You smiled down at them, thinking of how mad your mother would be.

“Aw, c’mon Brock. She ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Let her have some fun.”

Bucky’s blue eyes shone down at you and you pushed up your glasses and looked up at him, squinting in the sun. Stevie’s bony elbow bumped into yours as you hopped to avoid the bruising gush of water along the pavement as they succeeded in their quest.

“Sorry.”

Stevie smiled at you. He really was a nice boy, even though he was pugnacious. Bucky was a smart ass, however.

“You don’t want her to melt, do ya? Your old man would skin you alive.” 

Stevie and Bucky laughed as Brock scowled. He didn’t have time for benevolence or little sisters. He had plans. He shook his head.

“Focus. We gotta stick with the plan. Sammy Wilson is coming over to talk about what’s happening tonight, and she doesn’t need to be around.”

You flipped Brock off behind Bucky and Stevie’s back, and he just scowled harder at you. No matter what you did, he didn’t engage with you like you wanted him to. How boring.

Bucky whistled. 

“Wilson is fast. That dude can run his ass off.”

Sam was on the track team at the high school down the block.

“I can beat him.”

Stevie puffed his bird chest out and Brock and Bucky laughed at him. You felt bad. 

“I believe you Stevie.”

He grinned at you and ducked his head.

Brock rolled his eyes and you flipped him off.

He pointed back at you.

“I’m sick of you. I’m telling Dad.”

You thrilled at the attention.

“Go ahead, I’ll tell him what you’re up to.”

Brock grabbed you by the shirt, snarling.

“You better not say a fucking word.”

You pulled away and landed on the pavement, your knee skinned. You kneeled, bending over to look at it, and to keep your tears inside, when you heard the voice of an angel.

“Need some help?”

You looked up into a face haloed by the sun. You reached for the hand that was offered and stood up to look into the face of 14 year old Sammy Wilson. And you were done for.

That gap tooth smile, those eyes. That skin.

You stared at him as you registered laughter around you. Sam spoke again.

“You okay?”

He seemed like he really wanted to know how you were.

“Y-yeah.”

He chuckled.

“You better clean that off.”

Sam took your hand and led you back over to the hydrant. He kneeled down, cupped water in his hand and cleaned off your knee.

“Sssssss!” 

It stung.

“Sorry. But it’s for your own good.”

You felt warm, and not just from the heat, as you let him take care of you.

You stared at him as he finished.

“That’s the best I can do. You need to get a band-aid.”

“Okay.” 

You would do anything he said. Sam looked up at you and it was like the air was sucked out of your body. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but it intrigued you.

“No problem. I got a little sister at home. Sarah. Just looking out. You gotta be careful.”

He smiled as he stood up and walked away. 

You watched him move over to the other boys, forever changed because that’s when you fell in love with Sammy Wilson.

You spent that last summer in Brooklyn as the unofficial mascot of the Savage Crims, the newest gang on the block. Steve, Bucky, and Sam adopted you and you became scout, lookout, and spy. It was the best summer of your life.

Your mother moved to Los Angeles that fall and took you with her. She started dating more legitimate businessmen, meaning the same type of men as your father, just with generational wealth and privilege.

It was a different world than New York. You went to fancy private schools and learned how to play the game. You were now a “friendly black hottie,” sidekick to the main character in every scene. 

But you were smart. 

As you grew older, you watched and learned and played the part, and soon, you were running the game. By the time you graduated from high school, you were the center of attention, just the way you liked it. 

Your mother was engaged, and you and she were on the cusp of something she’d dreamed of her entire life: being iconic.

You started your first two years in college at UCLA, but you convinced your mother that fashion was how you would enable yourself to meet the best type of men, and that Parsons School of design in New York was the place to be. 

You acted as if you were uninterested in reconnecting with Brock, who your mom thought hadn’t contacted you in eight years aside from telling you that your father had died.

You convinced your mother that you wouldn’t venture off the island of Manhattan, and she believed you because she was in the midst of applying the full court press on her man.

The truth was, you and Brock kept in touch regularly, and you were eager to see your brother again. 

And his friends.

So you flew back East in 2012, 10 years after you left, butterflies threatening to fly out of your mouth as you landed at Laguardia. 

After a few weeks in the city establishing your dominance, you showed up at the boys’offices unannounced. He knew you were in town, and told you about how successful he was now, with the help of Bucky and Steve. 

And Sam. 

You were going to go see just how successful everyone was. 

And how lucky you could get.

“Who the hell is that?”

Bucky peered at the camera about the buzzer to the brownstone. Steve came over to look as well.

“It can’t be… Brock, c’mere.”

“What is it? We’re trying to work out this next shipment…”

Brock looked at the camera as Sam watched his jaw drop from the table.

“Who is it?”

“Fuck! That’s Bunny!”

Brock backed up as Steve pressed the buzzer. He opened the door to wait for you to climb the stairs.

“Stevie!?” 

Your excited shriek was muffled as the now beefy blonde picked you up immediately to twirl you around into the loft space.

You stood back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

“Wow! You have filled out.”

“I must have learned from you…” 

Steve looked you up and down when you heard a roar in your ear.

“Bunny!”

Bucky gave you a bear hug to where you couldn’t breathe. You pounded his back and punched him in the pecs when he let go. You caught your breath and then turned to Brock, whose eyes were shining.

“God, you’re grown up. You’re not my little Bunny anymore.”

“Shut up, stupid.”

You embraced your brother, surprised at your emotion. You were choking up, about to sob in his arms.

“I missed you.”

You whispered into his shirt.

“Missed you too, kid.”

You let him go and you dabbed at your eyes. You heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Sam standing next to you.

“Hey Sammy!”

You tried to make your voice light, so as not to betray your feelings. You’d replayed this moment in your mind a million times.

He was a man now. And damn. What a man. Tall, dark and handsome. But with that same smile. 

Sam tried to be cool. Brock was right. You weren’t little any more. A full grown woman. He tried to not check you out because he knew Brock was watching, but damn. You were beautiful. All over.

“Well? Can I get a hug?”

Sam unfroze himself.

“Of course.”

You seemed to melt into him, your breasts pressed against his chest, his lats seeming to mold around you. He could do this all day. 

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s raised eyebrow and he released you, stepping back and over to the table to try and pretend that all of his senses were not tuned on you.

“How’s Sarah?”

Sam smiled.

“Good. You should call her.”

You smiled back

“I will.”

Bucky interrupted.

“Tell me all about your socialite world, Ms.Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Rumlow ‘til I die.”

You locked eyes with Sam.

“Who does a girl have to screw to get a drink around here?”

You joked and the room fell silent.

“No one.” Brock deadpanned. “And you’ll wait another year until you’re legal.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, like everything is legal up in here.”

It was just like old times: you giving them all hell. Although Sam’s hell was different now. 

Bucky handed you a bottle of water.

“Thanks Buck!” 

You sat and crossed your legs across from Sam and Brock.

“So. How’s things?”

You four talked for hours, ordering pizza from Sal’s and shooting the shit. It was almost midnight when they drew straws to see who would take you home. Sam drew the short straw. 

Lucky him.

You rode in the passenger seat of Sam’s BMW, arms folded across your chest, an adorable bratty pout on your delectable lips. He’d been watching that mouth all night, torturing himself with visions of those in various places on his body. He was getting hard. 

Sam stifled a moan which he tried to play off.

You jumped a little when he growled at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”

You turned toward him, mad.

“First of all, I’m not a little girl any more.”

“Yeah, Right.”

It sounded dismissive, but Sam was really just agreeing with you.

“Second of all, y’all really drew straws to take me home?”

You glared at him as he laughed at your outrage.

“I’m not the little tagalong from years ago. I didn’t even need you to take me home. I could call anyone to come get me. To come get this.”

You held up your flip phone and indicated your body. Sam’s dark eyes took you in and felt possessive. Holy shit, he was in deep. 

“I’m sure you got lots of hardheads after you.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and looked back at the road as he drove to The Village.

“We’re busy men, Bunny. We got important work to do. Brock will be working for a couple more hours, Bucky is running the streets, and Steve probably has a date right now…”

“At 1 am? You mean a booty call.”

Sam continued, ignoring you.

“But what will never change is us protecting you. We’re family, Bunny.”

You pushed his head and he glared at you.

“Same little boys is all I see. Important crimes, you mean.”

You huffed back into your seat, your breasts bouncing in your spandex dress. Sam fought to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’ll show you a little boy. Don’t try me, Bunny.”

You turned back to him, batting your eyes, but your attitude on 1000.

“I’d love to try you Sammy.”

Sam had the urge to take you by the throat and slide you up and down his dick, but he just squeezed the steering wheel harder, trying to ignore you. 

“Hey Sammy.”

He sideyed you. Your voice was too sweet.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, don’t be a prude. I drank all the time in Europe this summer.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Europe, and I don’t give a fuck.”

You sat back in your seat, grumbling and frustrated. He would never see you as anything but little Bunny. By the time you got to campus, you didn’t even wait for Sam to park before you jumped out. He caught up with you, long legs gaining ground quickly. He grabbed your arm.

“Hey!”

“Let me go!”

You turned around and popped him in the nose by reflex.

“Shit!” 

Sam held his face and doubled over.

“Oh, my damn! I’m sorry Sammy. Let me see.”

“Stop…”

Sam pulled away from you and as his hands moved, blood spattered all over his shirt and the concrete below him.

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Sam was moving away.

“Just.. leave me alone. I’m okay…”

“No you’re not. I’m sorry Sammy. Come up to my place. Please. I’ll clean you up.”

Sam opened his watery eyes to see your remorseful face and let you lead him up to your apartment, up three flights of stairs. You took him immediately to the bathroom and you washed him up, giving him a wet washcloth and telling him to lean his head forward, indicating the toilet.

Sam sat down and did as he was told, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You sat on the floor below him and stared up at him, hugging your knees.

“I’m so so so so sorry Sammy…”

He looked at you, silent, and continuing to pinch his nose.

You stayed with him for 15 minutes until he stopped bleeding and stood up again, cleaning up a bit more. You felt so bad.

You stared at his shirt as he stood.

“Jeez, Sammy, take that shirt off, let me soak it.”

Sam remained silent, but took off his shirt.

You bent over to get some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, scrubbed the shirt a little, then soaked it in cold water.

Sam was watching your ass, almost feral at the fact that you were such a brat. You needed to be tamed. But you were Brock’s kid sister. He was so torn. 

“You can grab a sweatshirt out of my –” 

You turned around toward and stopped mid thought, mind blank at the sight of Sam’s shirtless form.

“Holy shit.”

Sam gave you a lopsided grin.

“You keep sweatshirts in your holy shit?”

You didn’t even hear the tease, just licked your lips as you stepped toward him.

“Sammy?”

Sam gulped and tried to calm down. But the look on your face was everything at the moment. He knew he probably should have, but he didn’t stop you as you entered his space. You reached your hand up to his nose.

“Are you ok?”

“I think so.” 

Sam reached up and manually shifted his nose. 

“Probably just broken for the third time. Been in a couple of scraps.”

Your fingers entwined with his and you brought them to your lips. Tears started to slide down your face.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry. I’m ok.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and then leaned back.

As you looked up at him, he whispered, “So damn beautiful, Bunny…” 

Suddenly, he was kissing your face, collecting your salt water with his lips. Then, he pulled away.

“What are we doing?” 

You began to nuzzle his palm, while your hands reached for his pecs.

“Stop thinking so much, Sammy…”

“Thinking’s what got us into this..”

You nodded.

“D’you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”

Your eyes followed your hands as they traced his chest, then his sternum down to his happy trail. His stomach clenched at the sensation. He was too far gone.

“How long?”

“From the first time someone tried to be with me sexually. I never really wanted to, I mean I’ve messed around, I can suck your soul out, but I’ve never wanted anyone inside of me.”

You were tracing his hard on outside of his pants, your face upturned now.

“Are you trying to say that…you’re…”

You nodded again.

“You were always in the back of my mind, Sam. I only want you.”

Sam tilted his head downward and captured your lips in a kiss, as though it were inevitable.

You both drew back and then your lips crashed together again, your bodies pressed up against each other urgently.

The kiss was everything you ever imagined and everything Sam didn't know that he wanted. Your hands went for his belt buckle. At that moment, Sam placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him.

“We can’t do this.”

You nodded, stepped back and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re one of my brother’s best friends. No need for you to pop my cherry or anything.”

You two stared at each other. Then you licked your lips. Sam cocked his eyebrow, trying to restrain himself from the animalistic urges your filthy mouth gave him.

“You little brat.”

Sam grabbed your neck to pull you close to him. He reached down to pull your skirt up and he rubbed your ass like he was trying to shine it. He then put both hands on you to spread your cheeks apart. Your wetness was evident in the sound. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed.

“Sounds like you really want this.”

For once in your life, you were speechless, and Sam reached down and angled your head up so he could look at you.

“I need you tonight Sam.”

You kissed him again and tried to get on your knees. But Sam stopped you and led you over to your bed.

“You’re the queen right now.”

You pulled off your dress and stood there in your bra and panties as Sam pulled you toward your bed to lay beside him, his hand caressing down the side of your body. 

He moved his fingers over the lace of your bra to find your nipple, and when it was discovered, he pinched it to see your reaction. The way your eyes closed halfway and your mouth opened was everything. He reached behind you to expertly unhook your bra and looked down on you.

“You're so beautiful.”

And he dipped his head running his tongue around the edges of your areola, making your nipple rock hard against his breath. Then, he started sucking in earnest, his huge hand going to tweak and play with the other. You threw your head back in earnest, the feeling in your cunt growing with each pull of his mouth. You started moaning.

“You mean to tell me…. That no one has ever… had the pleasure…”

Sam asked the important question between having his mouth on you. He couldn’t get enough.

You shook your head and furrowed your brow. It was taking you out of the moment. Sex was just a means to an end for you up until now.

“I suck them off, and they’re satisfied. S’not a big deal….. Ahhhhh.”

Sam stopped what he was doing to look into your eyes. 

“It is a big deal, Bunny. You deserve everything.”

Sam tenderly kissed your lips as he pulled your panties off, and then returned to your breasts. Tears slipped down your face to the pillow beneath your head as he finally parted your legs. His hand, led by his long middle finger slid down your wet, wet folds to play in your slick. 

“Mmmmmm. That’s that shit I like.” 

Sam rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations reached your nipple, causing you to arch into his mouth and hand. Sam’s fingers worked your clit and you could feel it get hard and plucky. You heard the sloshing wetness of your arousal. So did Sam. He pulled off to look at you again.

“You ever play with yourself?”

The look on his face was part possession and part genuine concern.

“Of course. But not this goooddddd…. Shit Sam. I just hit it and quit it…. Fuckkkk that feels good.”

Sam was plucking your nipple with one hand and rubbing your clit in expert circles with the other, watching the ecstasy on your face as you neared your peak. 

“C’mon for me now. Cum. right here in my hand…Yes…. That’s a girl…”

It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Holy mother of……ssshhhhhhiiiiittttt! Sam! Fuckkkk fuck fuck fuck!”

You tried to grab his hand to move it away, but he was strong. Oh so strong. He didn’t stop.

“Sam… I… Sam stop..I can't…”

“You can, and you will. Take it. You’re tough. You can take it.” 

You convulsed as your pulses slowed down and you tried to relax.

“That’s a girl. Just give it to me. Let me have it. Love that shit. You’re beautiful right now, you know that?”

You calmed under his praise and got into the groove of his pleasure.

Sam’s fingers started exploring you, one of them sliding easily inside you, so he added another, but when he reached the second knuckle, you clamped down hard.

“Shit, Bunny. You’re so so tight.”

Sam looked at you with lust and you could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, his precum making a mess.

“Thought that first one would have loosened you up. Looks like you need at least one more.”

Your eyes grew wide as he slid down your body, fingers still inside you, but now his mouth clamping around your clit, which was still sensitive. Your knees closed around his head and he pried them off with one hand.

“Take it Bunny. You deserve.”

It was the last thing he said before he destroyed your soul with his mouth. He licked and sucked and lapped, and his fingers slid inside you and curled the spark of pain muted by the fireworks behind your eyes as you came harder than you ever had in your life, including a few minutes earlier.

“Hnnnnh, hunnnnnnhh. Sam…”

He was kneeling up now, grabbing for his pants and a condom. When you saw the foil packet, you stopped him.

“No Sammy. Wanna feel you.”

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Mom put me on the pill when I was 13. It’s like a vitamin now. I’m good.”

Sam nodded and his thumb went to your still vibrating clit as he swiped his head in your viscous slit. He managed to pop his thicker-than-you-thought head inside you, but you yelped in pain as he tried to slide in.

He leaned down, arms on either side of your head as you clutched his shoulders.

“You good?”

You nodded, tears in your eyes as you smiled.

“I want it, I need it. Give it to me.”

Sam looked at you, shook his head and smiled.

He slid inside you slowly, seeming to grow wider and longer with each inch that he gave you. The burning between your legs was soothed by his praise and tender kisses on your forehead.

“There you go.  Feels so so good for me Bunny. You’re doing so good. I can’t believe this… Make me wanna cum already. This pussy is so tight. And so good. Better than I’ve ever had…”

Sam relaxed you, and you began to enjoy that he was taking you apart. When your moans matched his thrusts was when he started to give it to you, his will power waning.

You were the epitome of desire.

He hiked your leg above his hip so that he could dig deeper and his thumb found your clit again.

“One more Bunny. Just one more…”

He felt you flutter around him and he gripped the base of his cock. 

“Sammy….”

“Yes… oh… fuck yes….”

“Ohhh! Ah!”

Your cream gushed around him as you came and Sam grunted and let go inside you.

“Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk aahhhhhhh ahhhh. Fuck!”

Sam felt like he his balls would never empty and he slumped on top of you, feeling your arms snake around him to hold him.

“Mmmm… Sammy.”

He could hear the smile in your voice. He leaned up off of you and kissed your nose, looking into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You smiled at him and Sam’s heart was gone. You had it locked up.

“Better than okay.”

He kissed you again.

“Stay right here.”

He went to the bathroom, coming backwith a washcloth and tenderly cleaned you up. You heard the bath running.

“You’re going to be sore.”

“Yes. I’m going to feel you for a week.”

Sam grinned and you saw his cock come to life. You smirked and gingerly moved ot get out of bed.

“Join me in the bathtub Sammy. Wanna try the wet and wild….”

Sam was hypnotized by the sway of your ass.

He didn’t think of the implications of what just happened. He’d had a taste, and his hunger was voracious. He just wanted you.

And that would become a problem.

Reblogging is always a good thing if you liked it.

[harrysthiccthighss]

YOU CAN'T TELL ME THIS AIN'T MAFIA BUCKY ON HOLIDAY

[bigtreefest]

NAVY!!!! I’m dead, and it was a beautiful way to go. 😌 soooo many things to talk about!

Poor poor reader and her outsiderness not only to this world, but the plan!!! The beautiful, beautiful plan and Sophia!!

I really loved how that went. A beautiful twist and hopefully the start of a great friendship.

Ohhhh, and just how much Bucky loves reader!! That forehead touch when he let her go was packed with so much emotion!!🥺🥺😭😭😭and then the most wonderful reunion ever. You can just tell how tightly their souls are tied.

Also, the ‘kindly fuck off’ on the wedding invitation. I cracked up. Iconic.

I don’t think I’ll ever have enough words to describe how much I loved this, but the mist in my eyes and the warmth in my heart should say enough💗

Forever Hold Your Peace

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC Summary: You're in love with Bucky Barnes, but he's marrying someone else. Word Count: Over 11.1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, angst, breaking up, cheating of sorts (not between Bucky and reader), arranged marriage, violence, minor character deaths, miscommunication, talk of becoming a mistress, slight twist, George Barnes is the worst, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Lovelies, I'm FINALLY submitting my fic for @sweeterthanthis 's Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge. I went back and forth on how I wanted to do this. Struggled. Changed it (right, @sgt-seabass?). Dragged my feet. Here it is. Finally. Thank you to @flordeamatista, @targaryenvampireslayer, and @whisperlullaby who not only beta read this ages back, but gave me insightful feedback, direction, and suggestions to help make it even better than my vision. It is very much appreciated and only helps me continue to grow. I'm proud of this. Also, any and all mistakes are my own.❤️ Dividers by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You never wanted to have an over the top wedding, it wasn't your style. A small ceremony surrounded by close friends and family would be a much simpler, but happy, occasion in your eyes. As long as you married the man you loved, that was what mattered.

But it didn't matter because you love Bucky Barnes.

And he was marrying someone else.

You stared out the window from where you rested in bed and watched as the sun brightened your room. The rays danced around the space and cast a brilliant glow as it tried to wrap you in a warm embrace. It was a false sense of comfort as it did nothing to soothe the eclipse that had taken over your heart.

Of course, it was a beautiful day. You expected nothing less for the wedding of the year. The Barnes family demanded the best life has to offer and even Mother Nature seemed to listen.

But I'm not good enough for you, Bucky, am I?

Your phone had gone off numerous times since you woke up and you grudgingly reached over to check it. You probably should've shut it off. With a bittersweet smile, you read through one of your group chats.

Monica aka Cap: Hey. You doing okay?

Helen aka Doc: Do you want us to stop by?

Brunhilde aka Valkyrie: We can kick Bucky’s ass first. Just give us the word.

A watery laugh bubbled up. Monica, Helen, and Brunnhilde were three of your oldest friends. Brilliant, beautiful, strong women who were ready to defend or help you without a second thought. They were practically family at this point. You knew they’d be bridesmaids in your wedding one day.

But today wasn't that day.

You: I love all of you, but I just need to be alone today. Sorry.

You refused to look at any of the other messages. Talking wouldn't make you feel any better and you weren't looking for sympathy or comfort. The only plans you had today were to cry over romantic comedies and eat a pint of ice cream.

What better way to celebrate than to wallow in your self-pity?

The creak of your bedroom door made you turn your head. You weren't expecting anyone, but it didn't surprise you when Natasha wordlessly walked in. Her younger sister, Yelena, was right behind her with a garment bag in her hand.

They had become your friends thanks to him.

They would've been bridesmaids, too.

“Good. You're awake,” Natasha said, crossing her arms when you didn't acknowledge her. “Are you getting up?”

You imagined sinking into the mattress, but you couldn't hide them. “No, I'm fine right here.”

“Not fine. Get up. Big day ahead,” Yelena urged, mimicking her sister's stance.

You slowly sat up and glared at the two women at the foot of your bed. They were friends, but they were also dangerous. Not many had the guts to stare them down, but you were too upset to care. “I don't have a big day ahead, so what exactly are you doing here?”

“We need to get you ready for the wedding,” Natasha answered.

You huffed and put your head back on the pillow. “I'm not going. I'm sulking alone. So sorry you wasted your time by coming here.”

Yelena tugged on the blanket before you could cover yourself up. “Why not? Could be fun.”

You weren't sure whether to burst out laughing or burst into tears at her joke.

“I RSVP'd that I wouldn't be there,” you pointed out.

“You wrote 'kindly fuck off' instead of checking off yes or no,” Natasha said.

Yelena snorted as her sister raised an eyebrow at her. You tried to avoid anything Bucky related, as difficult as it was. And then you got the invitation. Your reaction wasn't your finest moment, but receiving it was like reopening the wound.

If you went to Bucky's wedding and watched him marry someone else, you'd shatter. Even if you managed to put yourself back together, you wouldn't be the same. How could they ask that of you?

Why couldn't they let you mend your broken heart on your own terms?

“I'm not going, Nat,” you whispered, wishing she would drop it. “It's cruel that I was invited and you're making it worse.”

There was sorrow in her eyes as she regarded you, a look you didn't see often. It shook your resolve. One of the reasons Bucky valued Natasha was because of her ability to get things done. Whether by words or force, she knew how to push to get people to go in her direction.

“You have to. Please, he needs you,” Natasha said carefully.

Your eyes flashed with rage as you swung your legs over the side of your bed to stand. “He needs me? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The redhead held her hands up, but the gesture didn't calm you. “Please, listen.”

“No! He dumped me. Why the hell should I go to his wedding?”

“She makes a good point.”

“Not helping, Yelena,” Natasha grumbled.

“Bucky doesn't need me in his life,” your voice cracked before you swallowed the lump in your throat. “He made that very clear.”

Bucky didn't kiss you when he went into your apartment that day.

Ever since you started dating, he always greeted you with a kiss. The way his lips moved against yours indicated what kind of day he had. Judging by the haunted look in his eyes, you expected him to smother you with a needy, demanding kiss. But he bypassed you completely and sat on the other end of the couch like he was trying to put distance between the two of you.

“What's wrong?” You asked as you moved to sit beside him. His hair was disheveled like he had been pulling at it. He did that when he was really angry or upset. “Bucky?”

He brought a hand up and touched your cheek, your own hand moving instinctively to cover his. When he leaned like he was going to kiss you, he only rested his forehead against yours. His breath tickled your lips, but the shudder that wracked his frame worried you as he pulled away. It felt like a wordless goodbye.

You didn't want to experience that ever again.

“Talk to me, please.”

He clasped his hands together and stared straight ahead. You wouldn't have known he was breathing if you hadn't seen the slight movement in his chest. The silence began to get uncomfortable, which was a first. The quiet moments were usually serene.

“I'm getting married.“

Was it possible for someone to pull the rug out from under you if you weren't standing?

“You're what?” You asked.

“Please, don't make me say it again.“

“I don't understand,“ you said, trying to make sense of the bombshell he dropped.

“My dad. He arranged it.”

You bristled at the mention of his dad. He was the head of one of the most powerful families in the city. Most feared him, but you couldn't stand him. When he realized that while your family had some wealth and power, it wasn't enough for his firstborn son. He told him you were nothing more than a phase. A bed warmer. He didn't even wait until you left the room to voice his disdain.

Bucky didn't bring you around much after that, which you didn't object to. The one meeting was more than enough. He assured you that the wedge between him and his father started long before you entered the picture, especially after the death of his mother. He also promised his dad's opinion wouldn't change a thing about how he felt and that his mom would've adored you.

“I take it he didn't arrange for you to marry me?” You asked, doing your best to crack a smile.

He didn't smile back. He hardly looked at you.

“Sophia Genovese is going to be my wife,” he answered neutrally, but his jaw clenched. “Her engagement fell through, so my dad arranged for me to take her ex-fiance's place.”

Bucky mentioned her in passing. Not only did she come from an extremely powerful family, but she was beautiful, sophisticated, and as close to perfection as anyone could get. His dad had everything to gain from a marriage like that.

Everything he couldn't get with you.

“You can say 'no', right?” You asked hopefully. Stupidly. “You don't have to go through with it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, pushing himself up as your stomach churned. “Which is why we can't see each other anymore.”

Your world didn't fall to pieces. Instead, you floated slowly in the air. Bucky remained on the ground as you drifted away, just out of reach when you tried to touch him. That was when you felt the first crack in the foundation.

A slow destruction with the man you love at the root.

“No. No. We're not breaking up,” you said.

“We have to,” he said, still not facing you.

It took you a moment to get to your feet with how your head spun. “No, we don't. I-I can talk to your dad? I know he doesn't want you to be with me, but if you don't want to marry her-”

“Talk to my dad?” He cut you off as he turned toward you, a flash of panic in his eyes before a soft laugh crept from his throat. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I'm not. Maybe he can see reason?“ You asked as he shook his head. “Or we could leave.“

“Leave?” He repeated, looking down at your hand as you reached out for him. The panic you saw in his eyes moments ago resurfaced, which he quickly blinked away to replace his expression with a hardened mask. “Are you asking me to choose between you and my family?”

“We can go anywhere we want. I don't care where,” you said. You'd live in a shack as long as it was with him. “And I'm not asking you to choose between me and your dad. If anything, I'm asking you to choose love. It wouldn't be forever if we left. It would be until we can figure it out.”

“There's nothing for us to figure out. The deal is done,” he said dismissively, jerking his hand away so quickly you almost fell forward. He couldn't mean that. “And so are we.”

You wished for a moment that you could go numb to not feel the piercing pain in your heart.

Why isn't he fighting for me? For us?

“Bucky, we love each other,” you whispered as tears sprang to your eyes.

“And we were naive to think we could be together,” he stated, his voice void of any emotion.

You could take rage or sorrow, but not his indifference.

“So, that's it?” You asked as the tears spilled over. “You're giving up on us? You're walking away?”

“It's better this way,” he said, hesitating as he lifted his hand. He quickly dropped it when you began to wipe at your cheeks. “I know you don't think that now, but it is. You'll find someone who can be with you and I'll find a way to make it work with Sophia.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm sure you'll find it really easy to make it work since she's perfect,” you mumbled. You tried to hold it together, but the bitterness crept in as more tears fell. “Don't make it seem like you're getting the raw end of the deal when you're not the one ending up alone.”

Bucky flinched and you savored that he showed some sort of emotion. “I owe it to her to try.”

“Oh, you owe her that? What about the future you promised me? A home? Marriage? A family? Was it all bullshit?!” You snapped, shoving his chest with both hands. You were pushing him more than physically, but you were past the point of caring. “Why are you giving up on us? Why aren't you trying?!”

“Because there's no point! This was never going to work!” He shouted, raising his voice for the first time and making you jump back. He never yelled at you. You never expected him to break your heart either. “You don't belong in my world. You never did and you never will.”

The room spun as you tried to take a breath. It wasn't like you were floating anymore. You were crashing down, the shards of his words piercing you so deep you weren't sure you'd ever get them out.

I was a phase. A bed warmer. I'm not worth fighting for. I never was.

Whatever wounded sound you made had Bucky stepping toward you. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Get out,” you ordered, not recognizing the sound of your own voice as you moved out of his reach. “You said we're done, so we're done.”

His eyes flickered with sadness when he invaded your space. Why did he suddenly want to be close to you? “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that.”

“Yes, you did. And I don't want your bullshit apologies. I want you gone,” you hissed, pushing him again. He didn't budge. “Get out. Get out! Get…” you steadied yourself, using every ounce of power you could manage to push him out of your home and life. “OUT!”

He didn't say a word or put up a fight when the shoves turned to smacks against his chest. Maybe he felt like he deserved your wrath. That broke you a little more. You weren't sure how long it took to shove him toward the door, but it exhausted you by the end of it. You wanted to curl into yourself and cry until there were no tears left.

“I love you, Bucky. I hope you have a nice life.”

His mouth fell open as you shut the door in his face.

As you sank to the floor, you realized he hadn't said he loved you once during the time he was there.

Love is sealed by a kiss, but he broke it with his words.

Maybe he never loved you at all.

“I think we can all agree that Barnes can be an idiot,” Natasha said, moving out of your way as you walked toward the bathroom.

“Is an idiot,” Yelena corrected.

“But whatever he said to hurt you, it was to push you away.”

“Mission accomplished,” you mumbled.

Bucky knew how to hurt people. He also knew you better than anyone, which meant he knew exactly where to put the knife in and twist it. You never expected him to inflict any sort of pain on you though because he swore he wouldn't.

Why do people make promises only to break them? Promises made in love should not be broken.

“Look, he hasn't been the easiest person to be around since he stopped seeing you. Everyone has noticed, even his father. He needs to see you, okay?” Natasha explained, gently nudging you through the door before you could reply. “Quick shower and we'll help you get ready.”

“You don't have to dress me. I'm not a child,” you snapped, slamming the door so you were left alone.

Guilt swirled in your gut as you stripped and went to the shower. You hadn't meant to snap when she was only trying to help. Or was she trying to help James? You didn't know anymore.

The cascading water did little to soothe you as you tried to push your despair aside. You hadn't allowed yourself to properly grieve from your broken heart. Why couldn't you just get over the man who abandoned you? Why did you have to keep loving him?

“Don't fall asleep in there!” Yelena shouted, almost making you slip on the tile as you shut the water off. “And no window escape.”

You thought about it more as you dried off. If Bucky went through with the wedding, it would be the end of the line. And maybe this would be the closure you needed to move on.

Though the love you have for him will never fade.

“Okay,” you said as you walked out of the bathroom in your room. “If you two are really going to make me go, I want to look perfect. Make him see what he's missing.”

“Don't worry. We'll make him look,” Yelena promised, nodding to your bed where the dress was waiting for you.

It wasn't exactly a wedding dress, but it was beautiful. It looked like the dress you wore on your first date with Bucky, only fancier. You didn't want to know where they got it or how they decided to pick that.

In the back of your mind though, you wondered if it was from Bucky.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered.

“Don't thank me yet,” you said as you sat down at your vanity.

If you squinted, you could pretend they were getting you ready for your wedding day.

Maybe in another life, we could have had our happy ending, Bucky.

Natasha and Yelena should have become personal stylists or makeup artists. You almost suggested they should do it as a side hustle. They managed to transform you while still making you look like you.

Maybe you were a phoenix, burnt only to rise from the ashes anew.

“He'll look,” Yelena promised again as she slipped a ruby necklace around your neck. “Finishing touch.”

You brushed a finger along one of the gems, trying to shake the memory of when you received it. Bucky had given you the necklace at his private birthday dinner. When you reminded him that he was supposed to receive gifts on his birthday and not give them, he said he had the best gift of all with you. He said it again after he made love to you.

The only thing you wore was the necklace.

“I know heaven's a thing. I go there when you touch me, honey.“

“Isn't this a bit much?” You asked.

Natasha met your gaze in the mirror. “We should go,” she said, ignoring your question.

The girls effectively boxed you in as they led you to the limo, a subtle reminder not to run. Even in heels, they'd catch you. They were that good.

Clint wordlessly opened the car door, but gave you a sympathetic nod as he helped you in. Observant and sometimes sarcastic, you almost wish he would've said something. Maybe it was better that he kept quiet.

What comfort would he be able to provide you with?

Once again, Natasha and Yelena were on each side of you as you sat in the middle seat.

“Do you plan on sitting beside me at the wedding, too?” You asked, staring straight ahead once Clint got in and took off.

“Yelena will sit with you. I'm standing,” Natasha answered.

You weren't sure what to make of that. Maybe Sophia decided to have her in the wedding party in some capacity. Or maybe she'd keep watch to make sure there was no trouble on Bucky's special day.

“Guess I'm not allowed to speak when asked if anyone has any objections?”

“You can if you want to cause a scene,” Yelena said, shrugging a bit. You were considering it. “Again. Could be fun.”

“Stop being a bad influence,” Natasha warned when you snorted. “We'll have the car ready for you to go once you're allowed to leave.”

“Allowed? I need permission to leave?” You asked. “And where am I going?”

“Wherever you want,” she replied.

You would likely go home for the time being. Instead of sulking, maybe you could take steps toward leaving the city for good. A new job, a new apartment.

It was up to you to create your own happy ending.

One that you deserved.

“We'll see if I actually make it through the ceremony first,” you said.

Silence stretched on in the vehicle after that. You'd take the quiet over useless small talk, but you found it more difficult to breathe as you got closer to the venue. It was like a vice closed around your throat. Natasha reached over and gave your hand a squeeze when you sniffled. Yelena did the same with your other hand. It was comforting, even if they were the ones forcing you to endure this day.

“Do any of you plan to stop the wedding?” You asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. Was that why they were so adamant that you had to attend? The glimmer of hope within you wanted that to be the case.

You made eye contact with Clint in the rearview mirror before he focused on the road ahead. You didn’t dare glance at the girls, but you felt the weight of the answer before Natasha said, “No.”

As quickly as your hope grew, it disintegrated. It fell into the soil within your soul, ready to grow again when you were naive enough to believe. It was silly to ask in the first place.

“What’s the point of dolling me up then if nothing is going to change?”

“To make him look,” Yelena reminded you. “And maybe you’ll see your future husband today.”

Silence resumed again after that, but it wasn’t long before the car approached a private entrance. You half expected that the wedding would be at a church when you received the invitation, but it was an address you didn’t recognize. Maybe it would be their new home.

You felt slightly ill once the car came to a stop, Yelena helping you out before Clint had a chance to come around and open the door. You saw a massive and beautiful estate in front of you surrounded by a rich landscape. Gazing at the front door where two guards stood, you didn't have to step inside to know that the place was elegant with meticulous attention to detail.

Somewhere you didn't belong.

Forcing a smile on your face as Natasha urged you to move forward, she said something you couldn't make out to the larger of the two guards. His eyes settled on you only for a moment before he let you through and didn't bother to look in your clutch to see if you had a weapon. Like you would use one anyway, but you thought they'd be more careful.

I'm clearly not a threat.

It was quieter than you expected as you stood in the entrance way, a couple of women bustling by with flowers. No way Bucky chose those himself. They were far from his favorite.

“The ceremony is going to take place in the back garden,” Natasha explained. “The fence will have guards in case anyone tries to get in.”

“Or get out,” Yelena added.

“I need to have a quick chat with Steve,” Natasha said. Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend and heir to the Rogers empire, was every bit as handsome and ruthless as his best friend. “Yelena will take you to your seat shortly. Try not to wander off.”

You scoffed as you gestured in front of you. “Considering I have no clue where I'm going, I'll stay here.”

Natasha smirked before she left, the echo of her heels eventually fading once she was out of sight.

“Stand up straight,” Yelena ordered, pressing against your back. “Show no fear.”

“Why?” You asked before you spotted a large man walk toward you, two men hot on his heels.

George Barnes.

“Well, well. You made it. I wish I could say it was nice to see you,” he said, his gaze lingering on your necklace as you bristled. You covered the jewelry with your hand, worried he might rip it off. You wouldn't allow him to take that away. “At least you had the decency to not wear white. Would've been extremely tacky and useless to try and upstage Sophia.”

You knew he was trying to get under your skin at the mention of his soon-to-be daughter-in-law. “Believe me, Mr. Barnes, the feeling is mutual. Honestly, I’d be happy to live out the rest of my life without us having to cross paths,” you said, giving him a sweet smile when his eye twitched. He likely wasn't used to women insulting him. “But if you want me to leave-”

“Nonsense. I want you to witness a union of power. Something you’ll never have,” he boasted, making a show of smoothing out his expensive jacket. “I also hope you're on some form of birth control since James plans to take you as a mistress. He doesn't need any bastards running around now, does he?”

You gaped at him, trying to figure out if he was kidding. “Just so we're clear, I'm good enough for your son to fuck, but not marry or have his kids?”

“I'm glad we understand each other.”

“I don't understand,” you said, your voice cracking as Yelena took a step closer to your side. “Your son loved me.”

Maybe part of him still does.

“It isn't for you to understand why I do what I do. What you need to understand is your place,” he snarled in a low voice as he crowded your space. You almost stepped back, but he probably wanted you to be afraid and you weren't about to let that show. “All that work I put into my son and you almost unraveled it. Even after leaving you, he's been difficult. Sullen.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that,” you said, elated that he pretty much confirmed that Bucky missed you.

“I'm sure you are. But that'll change. He's going to marry Sophia and make my empire even stronger than before. And I hope you cry yourself to sleep knowing he didn't choose you in the end.”

Rage pulsed through your veins at the audacity of the grinning man in front of you. “Are you done talking? As much as I'm sure you love the sound of your own voice, I'm tired of hearing it,” you said, his smile slowly fading from his face when you didn't break down. “And when you go to Hell, I hope you aren't burned by the flames. I hope you drown in the tears of everyone you ever wronged. And when you ask for their help to save you, they'll watch you sink to the bottom. Your son included.”

Under different circumstances, the shade of red Mr. Barnes turned would’ve been comical. A man who liked to dish it out, but was unable to take someone throwing it back at him. Maybe he had power in name, but he was weak in heart. “You little bitch,” he snarled, raising his hand.

You didn't flinch or look away from his rage-filled eyes as you braced yourself from the impact. Maybe you shouldn't have run your mouth, but you didn't care. Let him hit you. Let him prove himself to be the monster you believed him to be, especially after he insulted you first.

But the blow didn't land. Yelena caught his arm before it could. Neither of the men behind him reached for a weapon nor did they make a move to throw you out. Were they waiting for a signal from their boss?

“No fighting,” she calmly spoke, using her other arm to help you back away. “Your rule today, right, Mr. Barnes?”

“Belova,” he said through his teeth, yanking his arm back. You wondered what kind of trouble she'd get in for helping you. She didn't deserve it. “That rule is-”

“No fighting,” she said again, nodding to you. “I made her look pretty. No messing up her makeup.”

“She looks like a whore,” he said.

“I think she looks pretty,” Yelena said with a shrug before she turned her attention back to you. “Down the left hall. Second to last door on the right. Wait there for me.”

“Thank you, Yelena,” you whispered.

Mr. Barnes grabbed your arm as you tried to walk by. “When my son seeks you out to take you as a mistress, you will say yes. Be that as long as he does what needs to be done. Keep his bed warm and his dick wet, but don't think for a second that you'll be anything more than a whore.”

You calmly shook him off, even as your stomach turned. To speak so callously of you, of Bucky, of what you meant to each other. To suggest that you would be a kept woman. How did a man like Bucky spawn from someone as disgusting as him?

“Mr. Barnes, you may have power and you may think you have control over your son, but you're nothing more than a pathetic excuse of a man who gets off on bullying people you deem beneath you. I hope your neck breaks from looking down on me.”

A shaky breath left your lungs as you quickly walked past the men and went down the left hall as instructed, not looking back to see if anyone went after you. It was careless to run your mouth again, but you just had to get the last word in. What the hell was that man going to do to you once the wedding was over? Maybe he wouldn't do anything at all. Surely he had bigger fish to fry.

The hall seemed to stretch on and you wondered why Yelena sent you down here. Was it a restroom? She obviously knew the estate well enough if she-

Your breath stopped as Bucky walked out of the last room on the left, his gaze landing on you as you froze. It was cliche that your heart skipped a beat, but how could it not? This was the first time you had seen him in person since that fateful day and he looked every bit as handsome as before. Between the black tuxedo tailored to perfection, trimmed beard, and not a single hair out of place, he played the part of the son who would one day rule the city. Except for his cerulean eyes.

They were lined in pain.

“You're here,” he breathed, like he couldn't believe you were in front of him.

You wished you felt numb as you looked at him. This was the man who once told you he'd burn the world if anything ever happened to you. The fire within him was long snuffed out and he took the warmth with him. You were tired of feeling cold.

And you were so tired.

“Not by choice,” you said, proud that your voice stayed steady as he moved toward you.

“You look so breathtaking,” he said, like he was seeing you for the first time. As much as you liked his gaze sweeping over you, it hurt. “You're wearing my necklace.”

“Natasha and Yelena's idea,” you told him, not returning the compliment by telling him how handsome he looked. “Apparently you needed me today, so here I am.”

He lifted his hand as if to touch you before he lowered it. “I do need you.”

Your gut wrenched, your heart and mind raging over whether or not to believe him. “I'm sorry, but I don't exactly see how that's possible. You dumped me. You're getting married. Chapter closed. Move out of my way, James. Please.”

He flinched at the use of his first name, but recovered quickly as he stopped you from moving around him. Your shoulders tensed when he touched your arm, the familiar jolt of electricity running through your veins at the contact. You wanted to resent him for still making you feel something, but how could you when he made you feel alive? Even the crushing weight of the emotions was a reminder that you didn't break.

In many ways, he helped you become stronger.

“You're going to try and sneak out,” he guessed. You didn't disagree. “Don't. You can't leave yet.”

“Yes, I can. I'm not one of your subordinates or soldiers or whatever the hell you call them. And if you won't get out of my way, I'll just go back the way I came. Yelena will find me.”

Before you could protest, he gripped your arm a bit tighter and dragged you into the very room Yelena sent you to. It appeared to be a study, which you wish you could've taken the time to appreciate. You almost screamed for help, but who the hell would come to your rescue?

This was Bucky's world and you were just a pawn in it.

“Let go of me!” You demanded as your clutch fell to the ground, smacking his hand hard enough for him to loosen his hold. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“Sorry for what exactly? Making me come here today or breaking my heart? Or maybe you're apologizing for your dad and his clear disdain for me? It doesn't matter because I don't care.”

“I care. You don't understand,” he said, effectively blocking the door when you tried to get past him. His eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, making you take a step back. “Wait. You saw my dad? What the fuck did he say to you?”

He looks like he's about to commit a murder.

“No, I don't understand. Not your father or this situation. I likely never will,” you said, clenching and unclenching your fists. Nothing could ground you. “He said you planned to take me as a mistress.”

Bucky's jaw clenched. “That's what he told you?”

“Yes, among other things. Is that why you wanted me here today? To make that offer?” You answered, your palm itching. Was that why Natasha and Yelena really forced you to come to this? “You know what? Don't answer that. I'd be too tempted to smack you.”

“I've already beat myself up for the both of us,” he muttered.

“I'll save you the trouble of asking: No, I won't be your mistress. I won't stay here and be your whore. I'm sorry,” you said.

Whether or not he'd grow to care for Sophia or if he was doing this strictly out of orders from George, he would be a married man at the end of the day. Even if there was a chance down the road that he would divorce Sophia, could you condone carrying on an affair with him? Could you contribute to him breaking his vows? Both of you deserved better than that.

He ran a hand through his hair and messed up the style. “I'm asking you to forgive me at your own pace and stay,” he said.

He sounded sincere and on the edge of breaking. You were there with him. “I can forgive you, but you're still marrying someone else, Bucky. And what would we be if I stayed? Friends? We can't be friends.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders when you attempted to step around him again, a wild look in his eyes. You couldn't recall ever seeing him so untamed. “You really think I want this? That I would want anyone besides you?”

Tears filled your eyes by that point, wishing that were true. “Yes! You broke my heart, remember? You said I didn't belong in your world and that you owed it to Sophia to try. Those were your words. So, no, I don't think you want me. At least not all of me.”

“I broke up with you because I had to. I know I was hurtful, but I had to keep you from going after me,” he said, your chest tightening when he pulled you closer. “If you leave now, I know you'll run.”

Would you chase me if I tried to run?

“So what if I do? I'm not yours anymore.”

“You'll always be mine,” he spoke with such reverence that your lower lip quivered. “Just like I'm still yours.”

“Fuck you, James,” you seethed, struggling in his grasp as a tear slid down your cheek. You cried so many tears because of him and you were ready to be finished. “This is cruel and you know it.”

“I know you hate me-”

“That's just it. I don't hate you. I don't think I ever could,” you said, your chest heaving as you tried not to choke on a sob. “But you know what I want? My heart. You took it from me and I want it back, along with my love for you. Every smile, every laugh, every kiss. Give it all back and let me go.”

“I won't do that,” he whispered after a beat. “I love you too much.”

Bucky reached up to cup your cheek and draw you closer, his breath fanning over your lips as you trembled. You wanted so desperately to meet him halfway, but how could you cross that line after vehemently denying that possibility? Would it shatter your heart all over again if you did?

“We can't,” you whispered when his mouth brushed against yours, a small taste of the now forbidden spreading through you like a wildfire. But your mind urged you to lean back even as your heart screamed for you to give in. “Bucky, we can't.”

“Yes, we can. Please,” he gently argued, your heart pounding over the voice in your head as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your head spun when you inhaled, his cologne adding to the dizzying feeling as he moved his mouth to the other side. “We love each other.”

You hesitated once more before you sighed in resignation. You did love Bucky. It may have been wrong at the moment, but he had the key to your heart. And you would allow him to unlock it one last time.

You weren't sure who leaned in first this time, but your mouths met in a familiar dance. He led as he parted your lips with his tongue and you followed with a moan. Eagerly gripping his hair, uncaring that he'd have to fix it later, you melted into him and prayed he'd catch you if you fell.

“Please, Bucky,” you whispered as his mouth left a warm trail of open mouthed kisses along your neck.

You didn't know what you were pleading for as he backed you against a wall. Was it for him to let you go? To fight for you? Or to take you to paradise one last time?

Love me like you're going to lose me.

“I love you so fucking much,” he murmured, your heart pounding as he moved his hand along your chest. His fingertips dragged along the necklace, a shackle of the ownership he had over you. One you'd wear forever if he only asked. “Killed me to be apart from you, doll. Hated every second of it.”

Guilt began to sink in. You just told him you wouldn't be a kept woman, but you allowed him to kiss you. Touch you. Was it because he hadn't gone through with the wedding yet? Was there a chance he'd back out of it?

“You hurt me,” you reminded him, but didn't stop him from gliding his hand down your torso. “You broke my heart.”

“I had to,” he said again. You expected him to say more, but he only hiked your dress up and dragged your underwear down far enough that you could spread your legs. And you didn't need to pour more salt in the open wound by saying again that he hurt you. He knew. “I'm sorry.”

“Then show me how sorry you are,” you demanded, your hands shaky as they reached for his belt. You didn't have much time. “Even if someone walks in-”

“I'm not stopping,” he said, helping you with his pants. You wrapped a hand around his cock the second it sprang free, the familiar hardness only making the ache inside you grow. You needed to feel him. “I don't care if the world's on fire. Won't stop me from being inside you.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

He chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours, warmth blooming from your core when his fingers teased your folds. One touch and you melted, your pussy wet and ready for him to make himself at home again. He swallowed down your moan as he explored, like he was memorizing you all over again.

“Bucky,” you whined as he pulled his fingers away.

“I've got you.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders as he wrapped one of your legs around him. You dug your fingers in almost hard enough to bruise him as he lined himself up. Part of you wished you could leave your mark on him. Perhaps you had in his heart, a claim that no one else could see but one you both felt.

Heart and soul.

Your heart pounded as he slowly buried himself deep, relishing in the burn from the stretch. The breath punched out of your lungs as you surrounded him, his cock filling you to your limit. It was far from the first time he had you, but it felt even better than before. More raw, passionate. You wanted him to stay inside you and never leave.

Clenching around him was the wordless order for him to move, almost afraid to open your mouth and speak. You were afraid if you did that he'd slip through your fingers. That this would be just a dream and you'd wake up alone again.

“Fuck, I love you. Wanna make you feel good,” he moaned, his eyes hazy with pleasure and face a mask of euphoria at his movements. It was a beautiful sight. One you wanted to remember for the rest of your life. “Wish I could tear your dress open and get my hands on your gorgeous tits.”

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, pushing your chest forward and wishing for the same. You wanted him to pinch your nipples and soothe the sting with his tongue.

“Always so pretty when you play with them, especially when I fuck you with my tongue,” he went on, canting his hips to thrust deeper. He always made you feel beautiful no matter how he had you. “Tell me you love me.”

You bit your lip, realizing that he begged to hear it. A man as strong as him pleading for your love nearly tore you apart. “I love you, Bucky,” you panted, your chest rising faster as you moved your hips down.

His eyes devoured you, devotion and adoration in his gaze before he brushed his nose against yours. You shared one breath as you moved together, the slow and firm motions making you leak around him. His hand came to the side of your face, tilting your head to kiss you. It made your heart flutter wildly, the slide of his lips and tongue sending shivers down your spine.

It left you dizzy, like you were unable to breathe.

“Missed this sweet cunt,” he grunted, reaching under your dress as he picked up the pace. You didn't have to beg for him to touch you since his thumb found and teased your clit. “Missed how tight you got around me right before I came inside you.”

“Come in me,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I need it.”

“I don't wanna stop,” he groaned as you trembled, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. He was taking you to heaven. “I can't. We can't be done.”

You shut your eyes as you rested your head against his, quiet whines falling from your lips as he kept rubbing your bundle of nerves. You wanted to whisper that it wasn't the end. That was the beginning of a new path after being apart. But that wasn't your destiny. He was meant to rule with another queen.

“Please, Bucky. I'm close,” you said, opening your eyes as heat coiled in your gut. “Come with me. Show me you love me.”

One last time.

Placing a hand on his chest to feel the beat of his heart, you let yourself fall over the precipice. Your blood turned to lava in your veins as you breathed his name like a prayer. He recited a litany of praise in return as you clamped around him, doing your best to soak up every word as your spirit threatened to float away. Twisting your fingers in his hair, you didn't want it to end either.

“Fuck. I love you,” he groaned as he emptied himself inside you, his lips moving along your chin, lips, cheeks, anywhere he could reach.

You clung to him as he pulled out of you, some of his release sliding out with yours as he caught his breath. You couldn't do more than make a small noise as he lowered your leg and bent down to pull your underwear back up. They were ruined now. You were ruined.

“You really are so fucking beautiful,” he said, tucking himself back into his pants as you braced yourself against the wall.

“And you are so fucking-”

“James?” An unfamiliar voice spoke, nearly making you collapse.

Oh, shit.

“Fuck,” he huffed, both of you turning your heads toward the open door.

The post-sex afterglow disappeared as a woman in an elegant bridal gown stepped inside and closed the door, her beautiful face twisted in disgust as she stared at Bucky. Even in anger, Sophia Genovese was a vision. You put a hand to your stomach, willing yourself not to get sick as she turned her gaze toward you, the anger visibly lessening. Choice or not, this was Bucky's fiancé. You were the other woman. Did it matter to her that you loved him? Did she care for him? Maybe George was right about you after all.

You were a whore.

“You really couldn't keep it in your pants until after the ceremony?_ She asked, turning an unimpressed stare back on Bucky. “Honestly, James. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Bucky asked, helping you fix your dress with gentle hands and a soft kiss to your forehead. “You're supposed to be in the east wing.”

“And you're supposed to be ready for the ceremony and not sticking your dick in her,” she said harshly enough to make you wince. “Simple instructions that you should’ve been able to follow. Or can you not comprehend basic orders?”

“Shut up, Sophia,” he snapped, zipping up his pants as she rolled her eyes.

There was no lost love between them, but you still felt terrible as you looked at the woman. “I'm sorry,” you said softly. “I love him, but that’s no excuse.”

“You’re sorry for what? For fucking a man you love? Though I don't know why you love him. He's an idiot,” she scoffed, shooing Bucky out of her way. You stood your ground as she walked close, but she didn't slap you as you expected. She turned her back to you. “Lace up my dress so my tits don’t fall out of this.”

What?

It took a second for you to move, but you carefully laced her bodice. A beautiful gown fit for a queen. “I really am-”

“Save it. I don't want or need your apologies,” she cut you off before she pointed at Bucky. “But you will get your ass to that altar. I don’t care what it takes. Don't you dare ruin this for me, James, or I'll make your life a living hell.”

Bucky opened his mouth as the door opened again to reveal Yelena. She surveyed the scene before she went over and grabbed your arm. “You stink like sex,” she commented. “We must go.”

With misty eyes, you looked at Bucky. “I know nothing I say will stop you from getting married, but is this really it for us? I become your mistress or nothing at all?”

Is this the end?

Sophia shook her head when he didn't answer you. Yelena didn't speak either. “Mistress? You fucking-”

“Don't say another word,” Bucky ordered her.

“We must go. It's almost time,” Yelena said.

Bucky snuck in one last kiss as a tear slid from your eye, the feel of his lips lingering on yours. “I love you. I’ll never stop.”

That wasn't an answer to your question, but you weren't going to get one, were you? “I love you, too,” you said before Yelena dragged you away, needing him to hear that as your heart began to break again.

“I can’t believe you,” Sophia said before the door slammed shut and blocked out the voices.

Is Sophia going to rip him a new one?

You hastily wiped your cheek and had a hard time keeping up with Yelena as she dragged you down the hall. “I didn’t expect to bump into him,” you told her, like it would excuse your actions.

“You’re lucky no one else saw,” she said as Natasha came into sight near a pair of glass doors. The redhead didn't look pleased. “She slept with him.”

“Yelena,” you hissed, though you were sure the redhead already knew by your guilty expression.

“Of course, you did,” Natasha said under her breath. “Get to your seats.”

“Wait! I really don't know if I can do this,” you told them. Not when you could still feel the sweet burn of Bucky inside you. Not when your heart told you he didn't stop loving you. “How can I watch him marry her?”

Natasha exchanged an unreadable look with her sister. “Because when this is all over, he’s going to need you by his side more than ever.”

Why is everyone being so cryptic and not saying what they need to?

“By his side as his whore you mean,” you said. “Isn't that it?”

Is that really my future?

“As the woman who has his heart,” Yelena said, surprising all three of you. “Come. We must sit.”

Yelena led you outside to the gardens where most of the guests were already settled. It was a smaller amount than you expected, the flowers lining the chairs just as bright as the aisle runner. She practically shoved you into your chair on the groom’s side before she took a seat. The low buzz of excitement around you would’ve been contagious had this been any other wedding.

“I can really leave when this is over, right?” You asked. You weren’t sure you could handle a reception, even if Bucky wanted to see you. Maybe you’d see if Monica, Helen, and Brunhilde could meet up after all. “You won't stop me?”

Yelena gave you a curt nod. “If you really wish. Just know he'll find you,” she said, pouting a bit as she stole a glance at you. “Please, don’t hate us.”

“I could never,” you assured her as she nodded again. No matter what happened after this and even though you despised the situation, you could never hate Natasha or Yelena. They didn’t let too many people close and it was a privilege that you were part of that small circle.

It was like you were in a daze when the ceremony began. You blinked tears away as Bucky entered the garden and stood tall at the altar, looking pristine and powerful once again. He spotted you easily as the music began, ignoring Steve as he walked down the aisle with the maid of honor. You didn’t take your eyes away either.

It was as if you were the only two who existed.

Even as Sophia began to walk down the aisle with her father, he didn’t take his eyes off you. Tears surfaced again when you realized he didn’t actually look happy or proud. Not at all.

He looked trapped.

Bucky was a prisoner in his own life.

Your heartbreak forgotten, you were beginning to understand why Natasha and Yelena said he needed you. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t in control of his life. While your parents gave you freedom, his dad shackled him. And you knew you could never walk away from him. Not when he needed someone in his corner.

Someone who loved him unconditionally.

“It’s okay,” you mouthed to him, smiling through your tears. “I love you.”

A sad smile touched Bucky’s lips before Sophia reached the end of the aisle. His attention was now on his bride-to-be. You could only sit and watch as the man you loved began a new path.

Yelena silently handed you a handkerchief as the officiant began. “Dearly beloved…”

Blocking the words out as Bucky and Sophia faced each other, you looked around at everyone else. Steve appeared a bit stiff, like he was anticipating something going wrong. Natasha and Clint weren’t smiling either. They were observing.

“If there is anyone who feels these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”

This is it.

“I object,” Bucky spoke.

A small smile appeared on Sophia's face as people around you gasped. “As do I,” she said, handing her bouquet to her maid of honor.

You held your breath when George stood up. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!”

Bucky ignored him as he faced everyone. “I'm in love with someone else,” he announced as you held your breath, holding out his hand and beckoning for you to join him. “She's the one I want to spend my life with and beyond.”

“You unworthy-”

Yelena stood up faster than you could blink, pistol in hand. Where did she pull that out from? “You sit and listen,” she ordered, giving you a rare smile. “You go to him.”

Steve, Natasha, and Clint all had guns aimed at Bucky's father as your mind screamed at you to move. Your legs nearly gave out as you ignored the stares and walked down the aisle, but you made it to Bucky and took his hand. Why weren't any of the other men stepping in to stop you? What the hell was happening?

“This is the only person I want to be with. You will know her name and you will respect her,” Bucky announced, your name falling from his lips a heartbeat later.

It sounded so beautiful.

“Little fucking whore-” George began before Steve moved forward and smacked him in the face with his gun.

Hard.

“Don't use that kind of language when you talk about my best friend's girl,” Steve said, backing away slowly as George spit blood in the grass. “Go ahead, Buck.”

“When my dad ordered me to marry Sophia, I objected because I already found the love of my life. He said if I didn't go through with the ceremony, he would have my girl killed in the most dishonorable way. He threatened the same thing if I tried to leave the city with her or if she tried to interfere in the wedding plans. He even threatened to kill her closest friends,” Bucky said, gripping your hand a little tighter. “So I had to break her heart to protect her.”

You exhaled slowly, almost collapsing. Bucky told you he had to hurt you, but you didn't know your life was at stake. Or the lives of your girlfriends. That was why he looked so frightened that day when you suggested talking to his dad. He would've had all of you killed. The only reason he didn't hurt you today was because Yelena stepped in to defend you.

And deep down he likely thought he already won because today was the wedding day.

“I don't think I ever loved you, but I never hated you more,” Bucky spoke, his eyes narrowed in hate as he finally acknowledged his dad. “I almost killed you then and there, but you had your men watching her, and I had to wait until I swayed them to my side.”

“They're my men,” George snapped, snatching a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth.

Bucky smirked when the guards took their guns out and trained them on his father. “Not anymore.”

That was why no one was jumping in to defend George. They worked for Bucky now. They had a new leader. A better one.

“I didn't want to marry James either. I don't care for him. In fact, I can't stand the sight of him. I have someone I love waiting for me,” Sophia added unapologetically as Natasha pointed her gun at her fuming father. The only reason he wasn't rushing toward the altar was because someone else had a gun against the back of his head. “You'd think after the first engagement fell through that you would've learned your lesson, but it doesn't matter now. James and I both had something to gain from each other. So while you thought we were planning our wedding day, we came to an agreement and made our own plans.”

“We share the power of the city without marriage,” Bucky said, nodding to the surrounding men and women. “We stay in our territories, continue our work, and help each other when necessary.”

“Most importantly, we're free to be with a partner of our choosing with no interference,” Sophia said.

Bucky cocked his head at his dad. “Did you really think me keeping my girl as a mistress would satisfy me? Mom probably rolled over in her grave and I should've cut out your tongue for suggesting it.”

It was like another blow to your chest. You assumed Bucky wanted you as a side piece when he didn't say otherwise. He had to keep up the facade. You should've known better.

Heartbreak made you blind.

“So, I'm afraid none of you are here today to witness a marriage between the Barnes and Genovese families,” Sophia shrugged.

“You're here to witness an execution,” Bucky said, giving his dad a bittersweet smile. “Enjoy rotting in Hell while I'm in heaven on earth with my girl.”

It all happened so fast, but it felt like you witnessed it in slow motion as Bucky shielded you with his left arm. Sophia with a gun in her hand fired a bullet between George's eyes. Bucky shot Sophia's dad in the head as well. In the blink of an eye, the leaders of the Barnes and Genovese families failed to take another breath, their blood spraying on nearby patrons. Taken out by the very children they tried to force a marriage on.

Their own flesh and blood.

But blood isn't always thicker than water.

You felt like you were floating underwater when the guards ordered the bloodied guests to get to their feet. This was the world you knew Bucky lived in, but you hadn’t witnessed him kill anyone until now. In a strange way, you felt closer to him because you saw this. You knew exactly what he was capable of.

And just how far he’d go to keep you by his side.

“Let that be a lesson for anyone who tries to hurt the ones we love,” Sophia said, sweeping over the small crowd with a cool gaze. “Get them inside to clean up,” she ordered the guards, who quickly ushered them away.

I might pass out.

“Take it easy,” Natasha said as Clint brought a chair for you to sit on. “I know this is probably a bit of a shock.”

“You think?” Yelena asked as she put her gun away. “Get her a water. Or vodka.”

“We’ll get this cleaned up. Clint’s getting the car,” Steve assured Bucky, nodding over to you. “Go tend to your girl.”

His girl.

Bucky holstered his gun under his jacket and crouched down, cupping your face with a tender touch. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave you in the dark, but I had to. I couldn't risk your safety.”

Sophia hit his shoulder. “You could've told her something! 'I broke her heart to protect her' bullshit,” she said, making your eyebrows shoot up. “I knew you were a bit in the dark, but I didn't realize he didn't clue you in at all.”

That must've been why she was surprised that I questioned being a mistress. She knew it would never get that far, but I didn't.

“I couldn’t warn her with the men watching her. They would’ve known and I had to make it convincing,” he said through his teeth.

“Even after they were on our side? You couldn't have given her a clue?” Sophia pressed.

“Her place was bugged,” Natasha said, causing a wave of nausea to hit you. His dad had your home monitored, too? “George would've known the moment Bucky tipped her off. Today was the first day he stopped having anyone listen in and Yelena and I got rid of the bugs while she showered.”

Oh, my God.

“Everyone had to play along, no matter how much it hurt us to do so,” Bucky said before concern filled his eyes. “Doll?”

You threw your arms around him, feeling a bit dramatic when you dissolved into tears. It was so much to take in, but relief flowed through you as he held you. He didn't go through with the ceremony.

He loved you.

Bucky never stopped loving you.

“I've got you,” he whispered, leaning back to search your face.

“I’m fine. Really,” you said after a second, allowing him to wipe your tears away. Everything made sense now, like why the girls were so eager for you to be here today. “But you really couldn’t have slipped a note to Natasha or Yelena to warn me? Even a, 'Hey, doll. Your place is bugged!' sort of thing?” You added, just to make a little light of the tense situation.

Sophia snorted when Bucky's face fell, like that idea hadn’t dawned on him. “Told you that you’re a fucking idiot,” she said, her eyes more sympathetic as she looked at you. “But I get his apprehension. My father had measurements set in place for me as well to go through with today, including trying to incapacitate the man I want to be with.”

“I'm sorry,” you said. Bucky and Sophia had to endure a lot of pain thanks to the men who should've respected their wishes.

“None of this is your fault. And I got a call before I found you two and he's okay. My men are bringing him to me now that it's safe to do so,” she said, smiling to herself. “The ceremony was the only way to take our fathers out. And I won't shed a tear for that sperm donor now that he's gone.”

“Neither will I,” Bucky said, glaring at his dad’s dead body. “And I’ll spend every day making it up to you, doll. If I could've made him suffer more, I would've. A cut for every tear I made you shed.”

“That's a lot of tears. He would've bled out.”

“It's the least he deserved.”

“I need to get out of this gown,” Sophia said, dismissing one of the men who went to check on her. She slipped the engagement ring off her finger and handed it to Bucky. “Until next time, James. And you? I hope we can become friends, if only to piss him off.”

You laughed a little at the absurdity. She just murdered Bucky’s father and watched as he executed her own dad. And she extended a hand to you in friendship. You had to both admire and fear her. Brunhilde would love her. “I’d like that.”

“Take care of her or I’ll hear about it and I’ll make you sorry,” she warned Bucky before she walked away.

‘I told you that you'd see your future husband here,” Yelena said before Natasha nodded to the bodies. “What? They're not going anywhere.”

“Let's let the lovebirds be,” she said, slipping into the big sister role.

“Thank you for dragging me here. And for everything,” you told them before they let you be. You wished they would've told you, but understood why they couldn't. You wouldn't hold that against them. “Are you okay?” You asked Bucky. Whether or not he hated George, that was his father. Between that, lying to protect you and everything else, it was a lot on his shoulders.

“Do I have you?” He replied, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“You have me,” you said without hesitation.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, I do,” you smiled. “With all my heart and more.”

“Then I’m okay,” he smiled back.

“I'm sorry for how I acted. I’m so sorry,” you said. It was selfish in so many ways to focus on your own pain. “I should've known-”

“No, don't apologize. You had every right to be upset and couldn't have known that everything was a charade. I'm just thankful you're safe,” he said, taking your left hand and slipping the ring onto your finger. “And I know this isn't romantic at all and you deserve a better proposal, but this ring belonged to my mother. Now it belongs on your finger and you belong at my side. I know the world I'm a part of is dangerous, but I will love, cherish, and protect you above all else.”

You softly laughed. There was nothing conventional about the impromptu proposal, but there was love behind it. Wasn't that all that mattered? “You may need to convince me to say 'yes',” you teased, gazing at your finger.

“You're the main reason I had my dad killed. Is that a good enough reason?” He smiled, his eyes a bright shade of blue when you smiled in return.

“That's true,” you nodded. He committed murder so you could be together. That was love. “And I know this world is a dangerous place, but there's no one else I'd rather be with because I love you, too.”

Bucky didn't hold back as he thoroughly kissed you, leaving your head spinning by the time he stopped. “I'm never letting you go.”

“You better not. And lucky for both of us, you don't have to get rid of any new boyfriends of mine. Though you may need to apologize to my girlfriends, too.”

“Good because I know you thought you were single, but I may have had to kill another man for touching you. And I think two deaths is enough for today,” he half-joked, pressing one more kiss to your lips. You wouldn't dream of anyone else putting their hands on you. “I will apologize to the girls, but first we need to make up for the time apart. Maybe start in the car? Show you why you should marry me?”

“That's a start,” you said as he helped you to your feet. “Where is the car taking us?”

“Our place if that's what you want,” he answered.

Our place sounds like a dream come true.

“We can go anywhere as long as I'm yours.”

“Told you that you're mine,” he smirked. “And I'm yours.”

As his lips met yours, you knew you would always belong to each other.

WHEW! Did you lovelies make it? What do we think? Love and thanks for reading! This was a whirlwind! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

[sinner-as-saint]

scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 

Gods, you thought, what a day. 

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it. 

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 

Well, he did have a point there. 

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 

Half an hour?! 

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 

— 

“Is Bucky ever home?” 

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 

“How recent?” You asked. 

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 

— 

The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 

They both nodded. 

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 

— 

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 

“Do they?” 

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 

“Not yet.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 

And then he left. 

— 

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 

Oh, it was perfect. 

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 

-

Hours went by. 

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 

She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 

-

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 

“In your lap.” 

Fair. 

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 

Just like that? 

“I… okay.” 

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 

— 

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 

– 

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 

-

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 

“You’re home.” You said. 

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 

“I was out working,” He said. 

“Maiming and killing?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 

“It is.”  

“Were you hurt?” 

“I was.” 

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 

He chuckled. But remained quiet. 

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 

Oh. 

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 

“Are you just all talk or–,” 

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 

That shut you up really quickly. 

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 

Fuck… that felt amazing. 

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 

— 

That night ended up being the first of many. 

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 

—

One night, things changed. 

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 

Tonight started out the same way.  

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 

“Fine.” 

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 

And no one knew where he went. 

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

No. This cannot be happening. 

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 

Luckily your father was home. 

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 

Good thing you’d brought your own. 

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You repeated, “Where is he?” 

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 

“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 

But you would. 

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 

Or both. 

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 

You turned to face him. “What?” 

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 

You did. And only missed twice. 

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 

Then he passed out cold. 

— 

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 

You nodded. And he did. 

— 

A lot changed after that. 

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 

He became your best friend. 

He also became a lot more… bold. 

—

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 

And he did. Patiently. 

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 

You nodded, already breathless. 

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 

“I want you,” You said. 

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

You both laid there in silence for a while. 

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[buckyalpine]

18+ fluffy, smutty, utterly debauched thot. I'm saying sorry now: Imagine dating a grumpy, rugged, Mob Bucky. Everything about him is all dark and broody from his chiseled clenched jaw and tattooed skin to the permanent scowl on his face. Even in bed, he's only ever dominant, not that you mind at all. In fact you thrive off it, loving the way he takes full control, tossing you around like a ragdoll till he's covered in sweat and you're covered in his cu-

His mask never falls; he doesn't show his emotions or mercy to anyone. He didn't get the title of the Winter Soldier out of nowhere.

But then comes the day where he's especially wound up. A weapons deal turned into a shoot out. He shot everyone dead within minutes but it was still irritating. The side of his ribs stung from where bullets had grazed his skin. That was one out of a thousand things that were pissing him off.

You peeked into his office after Steve had already given you a heads up that your grumpy boyfriend was in a mood. He was sitting at his desk, nursing his third glass of scotch as you padded over wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

"You okay?" You slink onto his lap, your fingers carding through his dark, fluffy locks. He lets out something between a sigh and a growl, the line between his brows more prominent, nothing easing his stress.

"M'fine" He grunts, letting his hands settle onto your plush thighs, the feeling of your skin already starting to settle his frayed nerves. You hum, sitting in a comfortable silence while his fingers start to roam up to the buttons of your shirt. "C'mere pretty girl"

Normally when Bucky gets into this kind of mood, he wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and utterly ruin you until you're a moaning mess with his name and juices dripping from your lips. Your cheeks heat up as he moves to unbutton your shirt, his cock throbbing when he finds you're not wearing anything underneath. Your pretty bare breasts sit right in front of his face and his lips immediately seal around your peaked nipple, sucking while his tongue toys and swirls around like he wants to taste every bit of you.

Your breasts are so warm and soft, he chases more trying to pull more of your pebbled bud into his mouth, desperate and greedy. The longer he suckles, the more he starts to slip into an unfamiliar territory, his mind going blank, fully focused on how good you feel in his mouth. He was already so fucking tired and stressed, he needed this so bad.

You can tell something about him is different as his eyes flutter closed, his arms wrapping around your body to pull you closer. You continue to play with his hair, now massaging his scalp and he whines feeling your gentle ministrations. The soft sound catches you off guard; did your broody boyfriend who most of the city was scared of really just whine while sucking at your boobs?

"What is it baby boy" You ask hesitantly, cupping his scruffy cheek, your thumb caressing his beard. He starts to slip further, moving to give your other breast attention while leaning into your touch. You were the most precious thing in his life. He loved hearing the sound of your voice while he lost himself, letting out another whine at the pet name you called him.

Baby boy.

He liked that.

He was always taking care of 101 things and for once, it felt nice to have someone take care of him. He loves the way you cradle his head like a child, your body shielding him from the rest of the world while he was vulnerable. He'd never let go of himself before, not like this. Not where he was clinging onto you like a needy baby, not even warming his cock, just nursing from you as if your breasts were feeding him the sweetest milk-

Fuck.

His cock throbs at the thought.

He was already so need for you, if your boobs were full, there would be no coming back. He'd constantly be seeking you out, shamelessly taking from you. His subby, empty little brain starts to wander further. On the one hand, no other man should see you the way he does. On the other, he would give anything to prop you on the desk while he sits at the head of the table, letting the others watch what they can't have. Unbutton your blouse just like this, sucking your full breasts, letting your milk leak onto his beard. Fuck, he'd make a show of groaning at how sweet you tasted, licking his lips, not bothering to wipe the droplets that dribbled down his chin. His enemies would have to sit there with their dicks hard in their pants while he told you how you fed the baby and him so well-

How did his mind get here-

"Look at me baby, you okay?" Your voice and the way you speak to him only amplifies what he's already feeling. At this point, there's a mess in his slacks from his arousal, precum leaking, he tries to keep his mouth shut by feeling it full but he really can't hold back.

"Can I put a baby in you?" He looks up at you with puppy eyes, a flash of something vulnerable passing though when he finally pulls away to look at you. "Please?"

Your stomach clenches at the way he's peering up at you, his thick cock ready to break out of his pants, pressing against your soaked cunt.

Could you imagine how worked up he'd be? The second you nod, he's working at his pants to pull his leaky cock out and he's never been this way before. The man prides himself in being able to fuck like a demon and now he's scrambling to stuff his dick in you, 99% sure he's going to cum like a virgin the second his pink tip breeches your hole. This feeling is all new to him, his chest heaving when you sink down on him.

He doesn't hold back at soon as he's all the way in, heavy, full sack ready to pump you till your belly was nice and round. He loves to run his mouth when he's feral and being subby doesn't change a thing.

"Want you to be a mommy" He pants, biting his lip when he feels you clench at his words. All you can do is moan, already way too close to cumming, you've never had your boyfriend like this and it absolutely does something to you. He latches onto your neck to muffle his needy whimpers, a stark contrast to his usual deep grunts.

"Y-yeah baby? You want to make me a mommy?"

"Wanna drink from you, wan you to gimme your milk" He doesn't look at you when he says this, keeping his face hidden in your neck while his hips thrust upwards. Everything about him is sinful and nothing is more sinful than the fat cock that was currently running your pussy but here he was, shy like a child.

"You can have all the milk you want baby boy" You press a kiss to his forehead and that just about does it. I need this man to blow his load like it's his first time having sex. He doesn't have a clue what's come over him but he fully gives into it, overstimulating himself by ruttig up as much as he can so his cock is deep in your pussy.

"M'getting you pregnant" He moans between broken cries when he feels a second orgasm building up, frantically picking you up and laying you onto the table, jack hammering his cock in while you practically squirt. "Gonna-gonna cum again, take it angel, m'putting my baby in your tummy, m'giving you all my kids, oh fuckkk, need you to have my baby pretty girl, please"

I want him to keep his soft cock in you, whimpering when your walls squeeze the last drops of cum out. He can barely move, holding onto you as he sits back on his chair, sweat clinging onto his forehead.

"Feel better?" You coo, still letting him feel whatever he needs as he floats in a postorgasm haze.

"All cause of you" He holds you tight, his sensitive cock twitching at the thought of how much of his spend he's just filled you with, in about an hour, he's going to give you at least one more-

Sorry. I'm sorry.

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

→ premise: at the club where you danced it wasn’t unusual for you to have regulars, they were normally gross married men but there was one regular that stood out from the rest, your favorite. a grumpy ‘business’ man with a black metal arm.

→ pairing: mob!bucky barnes x dancer!fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, lap dance, choking, grinding/dry humping, nicknames [sweetness, sugar, princess], reader calls bucky mr. barnes & james, whore is used in a derogatory way once at reader, violent language used once, mention of a gun + description of it aimed at someone, mob!bucky but he’s described more as a ‘bussiness’ man sooo, and reader is described as dancing sexually for/on men.

→ a/n: kinktober 15

You were Bucky's favorite.

Now he’d never visited many clubs like yours for anything other than business meetings. The men he was making deals with often picked the spots, he merely indulged their requests so they'd be more willing to fulfill his and do business with him. After a client requests they meet at your club ‘the spades’ however he finds himself coming far more often than just his everyday dealings. All for the pretty little dancer wearing black and gold on stage.

Bucky swears the moment he laid eyes on you, that you were made for him. He made an arrangement with the owner to allow him to do his work out of the club sometimes. Part of that deal included that everytime he came in, he’d request you. If you weren't working that day he told the other dancers not to bother him, he wanted you, only you. And when you were busy the owner tried offering him the services of another dancer for the time being. Bucky simply threw the combined money it was to pay for his session and pay for the gentlemen’s session you were with to end. “I want her, just her” he explained leaning back against the cushioned bench in a private room he often occupied paying the other dancer no mind as she huffed lightly and walked away.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, you had taken note of which days he’d come in to do business and started to request those days to work instead of your regular schedule. Happily indulging the mysterious man's request for you everytime. The other girls were often pissy at you for it, not understanding why he never requested any of them. He was a very attractive man, far more attractive than any of your usual grimy regulars that they had to deal with. He often tipped you far above the price for a dance session as well, slipping a few extra hundreds into your bra with a cocky smirk.

The cycle has been going on for around 4 almost 5 months now and as each week has passed you learnt more and more about him. First it was basic stuff like his age and his name even his birthday as he came to the club on the day for it.

“You’re the only birthday present I need sugar” his face holding that signature cocky smirk although under his usual deep sometimes sarcastic tone you could hear the sincerity. “Guess I’ve gotta treat ya’ extra special for tonight’s dance huh?” You smile in return trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat.

Then eventually you learned things like how he always was packing a piece everywhere he went, but you had never felt it before cause he takes it off before you come to him. You learned where he kept it when one drunk guy got too aggressive with you when you tried ending his session because Bucky had walked in. The guy was pulling you back to him with an extra hard grip on your arm.

“Uh- sir you're not allowed to grab the dancers..” you explain, a slight edge to your voice you were nervous. He was grumbling something about how you weren't done and if he was gonna pay that much for a whore to dance then she should at least finish. You couldn't tell as it was all coming out a gargled slurred mess. Bucky had come over to break it up, or well break it up his way. Pulling his gun out on the guy, pointing it towards his head as he rested a hand on your lower back. “If you don‘t let go of her in the next few seconds, your brains are gonna be splattered across the stage and that dancer's feet up there. Do we understand each other?” He explained in an oddly calm tone, everybody else in the club was frozen, even the owner and the guards, they all knew not to mess with Bucky. Safe to say the man let go and hadn’t come back to your club after that. And you tried your hardest not to let bucky feel the fact your core was soaking wet as you danced on him after that altercation. He could very much tell, it was hard not to and it sent an ache straight to his cock, he loved that him protecting you and threatening the man got you all riled up.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ♤ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were currently dancing up on the long runway stage that ran down the middle of the club, sexy slow music that was playing filled the room alongside drunk men hooting and hollering at you. As you bent over at the waist rolling your hips and showing off your plump ass to the crowd earning you even louder wolf whistles you notice Bucky walk in. The end of the stage facing the front door, you smile lightly. You tried to push it down but an odd happiness always filled your body when he came in, maybe it was just because he was more entertaining than any of your other regulars or the fact he was sweet on you. You didn't know what it was but you’d much rather entertain him than the hammered bachelor party that was sitting as close as they could be to the stage.

Snapping back up facing away from the group of men you walk back up the stage with a sway in your hips making your way off it. Bucky secretly loved it every time you’d leave what you were doing to come to him, he was your priority the second he’d walk in and you made the other customers know it. Grabbing a hold of his hand you drag him along behind you still swaying your hips softly in rhythm with the music.

Bucky never let anyone tell him what to do ever, let alone drag him anywhere but he swears you hypnotize him with your hips rocking side to side. If you asked him to in that sweet tone of yours while batting your eyelashes at him he’d kill someone, anyone in a heartbeat. You barely even have to drag him along as you make your way towards the private room he always used, using your grip however to pull him in the room, closing the curtain and placing him down on the velvet cushioned seat.

“Always know just what I want the second I walk in huh sweetness?” He coos, his eyes roaming your body as you sway around in front him giving him a whole 360 view of your skimpy outfit. You were wearing black and gold again, you wore the combination of colors more often once you noticed the fact it matched his metal prosthetic as well as when he told you they were his favorite colors on you.

“Of course Mr. Barnes” you smile at him, slowly making your way closer resting your mancuried hands down on his thighs running them up painfully slow. “I told you that ya’ can call me James, princess” he tsks and slightly shakes his head as his body relaxes under your touch. Bending over you lean in closer, your face inches away from his, his whiskey and cool mint breath wafting through your nose and your addictive perfume filling Buckys. “Okay Jamesss..” you drag out his name giving it an emphasis that makes his cock ache as it falls past your lips and his breath hitch in his throat. You smirk and spin your body around to continue dancing and rub your ass lightly over his thighs as your hands grip onto them. Slowly you snap back up to stand straight in front of him, your body between his now spread out thighs. Running your hands along your body as you dance, down your sides and over your ass as your hips move and whine. His hands brush over your hips and up your sides as you dance on his lap, even brushing over yours, goosebumps rising on your skin under his touch.

Swaying and spinning around again before you get too lost in his touch, making him drop his hands you turn to face him as you make your way closer again. Placing your knee down besides his large body you push your weight up and put your other knee down on the other side of him so your body is hovering over his lap. Leaning against the back of the bench he smirks as your hips gyrate and sway over his lap. Needing to feel your body and your skin under his hands again he grabs ahold of your waist pushing you down further onto his lap. “Might as well sit where ya’ belong sugar” he chuckles lightly, his hands not letting go of your hips as you keep on dancing on his lap. Hips grinding and body moving in tune to the music yet you were practically dry humping him now. Your hands push at his chest as you continue dancing, trying your hardest to not think about how good it feels to be almost grinding your cunt against his cock.

This isn't how you were meant to be dancing on him, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be touching you as much as he was and yet from the moment he shook hands with the owner and made that deal those rules never applied to him. His right hand slowly drifts up your side over your chest and up towards your neck. Your eyes are locked with his as he wraps his fingers around your neck. You have to bite your lip to stop a whine slipping out, his grip not hard yet tight enough that you lose a bit of oxygen and your head starts to spin.

His jeans thighten as his cock throbs in his denim prison, “Fuck princess, wish we had far more privacy than this stupid curtain” he growls out. Your hips grind down harder against him in response, your core aching for pleasure now as your eyes screw shut. Bucky lets go of your neck only to grab ahold of your chin pulling your face down close to his. You’ve come to know that when he grabs your face he wants you to pay attention, pulling you closer almost like it's a secret. You open your eyes, your pupils so big there's barely a ring of their beautiful color left around them as you look at him. He smirks, dropping his voice to a whisper. “How much for you to just quit this dumb club and be my little personal dancer huh sweetness?” He asks, a cocky yet serious tone in his voice.

“What…?” You whisper in response, a bit fuzzy on what he was asking. “Quit and come live with me, be my personal dancer, ya’ practically already are princess” he explains further, your hips have not exactly stopped their grinding which only makes his smirk grow bigger. “i cant- i can't quit i need this job for the money” you stutter out yet you knew deep down he didn't really have to even offer you a penny and you’d be giving your two weeks notice and walking out that front door with him but you had to try your best to stand your ground.

“I’ll give you triple whatever the largest amount that you’ve made was sugar, just want ya’ all to myself..” the last part of his statement comes out in a whisper that you don’t know if you were meant to hear or not. A sweet smile spreads on your face as your hands run down his chest landing on his hips as you push yourself up, counting to dance on his lap.

“Then i do believe we have a deal Mr. Barnes”

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and tilts his head, waiting on you to correct yourself.

“Jameesss” you coo in correction, affection almost dripping from your voice, giggling softly when his hand falls back around your throat and his grip tightens back up. A sound that makes Bucky's head spin and a matching smile form on his face.

→ a/n: i had so many thoughts for mob!bucky x dancer/stripper!reader’s dymanic that i got a bit carried away and i also wanna write for them again. also this wasn’t proofread

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [27] - Midnight

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some arguments have more tension than others.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship (I'm serious, they have issues), mentions of sex and fighting. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

As it turned out, your plan to make your cousin look weak was working.

The first hit was an absolute success, and Ian was already crumbling. It was lucky for you that your father wasn’t getting involved and was giving him a chance to prove himself after the first attack to the shipment, because Ian was acting exactly the way you thought he would act.

Good.

It was going to make things much easier.

Bucky had dropped by to the apartment in the middle of the day to go take a shower which was quite surprising but judging by the blood stains on his shirt, it was needed. You were sitting comfortably on the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table with a book in your lap when he came into the living room and made a beeline to you to fling himself on the couch as well, pushing your book away to put his head in your lap. You pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Can I help you?”

If you didn’t know it better, you would’ve thought he was pouting.

“I need like five minutes to rest my eyes,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “How someone can be so goddamn stubborn, I’ll never understand.”

“Ah,” you said. “This can only be about—”

“Becca.”

You nodded your head. “What happened?”

“Mom wants to meet her girlfriend and Becca is acting like that’s a natural disaster.”

“Hurricane Winnifred,” you muttered and Bucky opened his eyes to look up at you, but then closed them again when you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair to play with it.

“Can you tell her she’s being nonsense?”

“I don’t think she’s being nonsense,” you told him. “Have you met your mother?”

“She’ll be nice.”

“Like fuck she will.”

“She’s nice to you.”

“Because she knows I won’t be nice if she won’t,” you told him. “Leila on the other hand…she’s way too polite.”

Bucky hummed and looked up at you again.

“Is Becca serious about her?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said. “Picket fence house and all that nonsense.”

“With a civilian,” Bucky mumbled. “That’s going to be fun.”

“Becca would never get with someone in the business, you know that.”

“Oh I know that, but I don’t think my parents do,” Bucky said. “They still hope it will happen.”

“Winnifred and my aunt would get along well,” you muttered. “Both boy moms.”

“So are a lot of people.”

“No there’s a difference between a boy mom and a boy mom.”

“You make zero sense, Charm.”

You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with his hair but his phone buzzed, making him let out a groan.

“No!”

“You’ll be fine,” you said and he sat up with a sigh, his eyes darting over the lines before he chuckled.

“Jesus, he really is the worst heir ever.”

“Ian?”

“Guess where he’s routing the next shipment.”

You frowned. “Where?”

“West side second dock.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Has your father never taught him anything, seriously?” he asked and you covered your mouth.

“West side second dock, Jesus Christ…”

“I’d better have a decoy shipment then,” Bucky murmured. “Just in case.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you said. “The cops will follow that shipment and bust it with any other shipment that day.”

“I’ll talk to my guys in the force, let’s see how that plays out.”

“Both us and the cops winning,” you mused. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“They’re not winning, it’s just going to be their small victory so that they’ll shut up for a while,” Bucky said as he stood up. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” you said as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll meet my dad but I’ll be home around dinner time.”

“Have fun,” he said and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a sigh.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

                                                    *

Your lunch with your father was pretty interesting, because you knew he was trying his hardest not to let you know about the so-called attack, but he was way too tense for you to think everything was going well. You took a look at the bodyguards in the restaurant, then sipped your rosé, leaning back.

“So,” you said. “How is everything with the business?”

He shot you a look.

“You took longer than I thought you would,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m just making small talk—”

“Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said. “I heard about the attack.”

“Of course you did,” he muttered more to himself, then sipped his drink. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

You tried to control your expression.

“I know,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Do we know who’s behind the attack?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We’re searching for it though.”

Tension churned at your stomach but you nodded your head calmly.

“What shipment was it?” you asked. “You normally have multiple men around the perimeter, but Bucky said it looked like a sneak attack. How did they get past your people? Did they kill them?”

Your father licked his lips and heaved a sigh.

“Ian was responsible of that shipment,” he said, making you arch a brow. “He must’ve—Y/N.”

“What?” you asked innocently and he licked his lips.

“He will stumble a bit, everyone does when they first start taking responsibilities.”

You hummed.

“Funny,” you said. “I didn’t notice that with Bucky. Or Sam. Or Steve.”

“Ian is a bit more…enthusiastic to prove himself than they were, perhaps.”

You tried not to grimace at the blatant lie and took another sip so that you could control your expression.

“I’ve been told he’s fixing the situation,” your father said. “He’s much more angry at the situation than you or me.”

“But are you angry?”

“It happened in my territory, and it was my shipment, my business that they attacked,” your father said even though his voice was calm. “Of course I am angry.”

Guilt burned at your stomach but you knew you couldn’t let it affect you; what you and Bucky had done was necessary.

It wasn’t just your father’s business, it was going to be yours one day and you had to prove that Ian was a terrible option.

For the business, and the city.

One of the bodyguards came closer to mutter something to his ear and he nodded, then wiped at his mouth.

“Duty calls,” he said and you took another sip of your wine, then put the glass on the table.

“Alright.”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“No need, my driver is here,” you said as you both walked out of the restaurant. He hugged you and you kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful.”

“Always am,” he said and one of the bodyguards opened the door for you, but before you got in, you heard your father’s voice again.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to look at him better. “Yeah?”

“How would you prevent it?” he asked. “If it was your shipment?”

A smug grin threatened to pull at your lips but you bit inside your cheek, then heaved a sigh.

“Twenty men around the perimeter,” you said. “Additional ten in every half mile, three hour shifts in rotation. Couple of cops under our pay in the outer skirts, preferably by the bridge and at least three people watching the street footage so that we would know the license plates of every car that gets a bit too close for future reference.”

He blinked a couple of times, the impressed expression on his face impossible to miss and you felt your stomach do a happy flip, then shrugged your shoulder, forcing yourself to focus.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you told him. “I’m not your heir, am I?”

With that, you got in the car and the bodyguard closed the door, the driver starting the car immediately. You grinned to yourself and leaned back in the seat as the car started moving through the street smoothly and you closed your eyes.

“Yet,” you corrected yourself. “I’m not your heir yet.”

                                            *

Bucky had texted you, saying he would miss dinner because of a meeting taking long so you had ordered some takeout, curled up on the couch with Alpine in your lap. Towards midnight he still hadn’t come home so you texted him only for him to text back the meeting was still going on, and you picked a show to bingewatch in the meantime.

For some reason you liked it when Bucky was beside you on the bed when you went to sleep.

You were so focused on the episode that you hadn’t even noticed when your phone buzzed, so when you saw the text notification from Ian, you frowned slightly.

You and Ian didn’t really text each other.

You touched the notification and sat up straighter much to Alpine’s meow of protest the moment you saw the picture of Bucky and Anna by the docks. Bucky was leaning back against the car with Anna right beside him, laughing at what you could only assume something he said.

From: Ian

Ouch. Didn’t last long huh?

Fury spread through you so fast that it made your head spin and you stood up from the couch, Alpine jumping to the floor as well. Your jaw clenched as you zoomed into the picture, then ran a hand over your face.

Of course.

The so called meeting was just a fucking excuse.

You didn’t even know why you were getting so angry, after all this whole thing was just a business deal but that was the thing; you two had a deal. That was his only request going into this marriage, that you two wouldn’t see anyone else behind each other’s back but there he was, breaking the same rule he had implemented. A mob boss not being faithful wasn’t supposed to be a surprise; you had grown up seeing it over and over again, Bucky’s own father included but this?

This was disrespect, and the fact that Ian was the one telling you about it made it so much worse.

You tried to see through the fury pounding in your head, tossed the phone aside and dug your fingernails into your palms, gritting your teeth.

That motherfucker.

How dare he?

By the time the front door opened, you had been pacing in the living room for the last half an hour, still lost in your own anger but Bucky’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Honey I’m home,” he joked as he walked in and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him tilt his head.

“What happened?”

Even if anger was radiating off of you and you knew that he could tell, you managed to smile but you had a feeling it was more of a snarl.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, your voice eerily calm and he licked his lips.

“It was fine?” he said like a question. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be shot?”

You walked to the couch to grab your phone, then found the pic, your hands nearly shaking as you tossed him the phone with more force than necessary. His gaze fell on the screen before he looked at you again.

“You put people on my tail?”

“You fucking asshole!” you lunged at him but he had the same training as you had – probably heavier considering the cage fight- because he caught you basically in mid-air and twisted your arm, then pushed you before you could grab him.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You know what the psychiatrist said about open communication, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re going behind my back?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, it was a business—”

“Bullshit!”

“A business meeting,” he said as you took off your earrings to toss them aside, making him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Charm baby, let’s not.”

“Oh no, let’s,” you said as you jumped over the coffee table but he caught your leg before you could reach him and threw you easily to the corner of the room. You landed on your feet just as easily but the vase by the corner fell off its stand to smash into pieces. Bucky’s bodyguards by the hallway must’ve heard the noise because the door slammed open, Hannah and Paul walking inside with their guns raised.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“Leave,” Bucky ordered, rolling his shoulders back as you gritted your teeth and pulled the pocket knife out of your waistband, flipping it open.

“…Sir?”

“Everything is alright, me and my wife are just having a small disagreement.”

“Mr. Barnes, are you—”

“She’s not going to do anything to me Paul but I can’t guarantee the same thing for you,” Bucky said. “Leave, close the door behind you.”   

Hannah and Paul lowered their guns, exchanging glances.

“Leave!” you snapped and they both rushed out of the door, closing it behind them in a hurry. Bucky gave you a smirk and opened his arms as if inviting you.

“It was a business meeting, princess.”

“In the middle of the night?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, both of you circling each other. “By the water? Are all your meetings that romantic?”

“We had to go check the shipment’s security because I don’t want to raise any alarms when Ian’s shipment gets busted—”

“Do you seriously think I’m that much of a gullible idiot?”

“Nah, I think you’re just jealous. It’s adorable, really.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” you exclaimed as you lunged at him again, this time wrapping your legs around his neck to slam him to the ground even if he managed to knock the blade off your hand in the meantime. As soon as you two hit the ground, he caught your leg and flipped you two over, his hand shooting up to grab you by the neck, not putting any pressure but still strong.

Oh—

Oh fuck, this wasn’t supposed to make your heartbeat faster.

The only sound in the room was both of you breathing hard while you glared at each other for a moment, desire roaring through your veins, making your head spin.

Then his lips crashed into yours.

All your senses were too full of him for you to even think it wasn’t the best idea and to be completely honest, you couldn’t give two fucks whether it was a good idea or not, especially not when he was kissing you like this. You had no idea when you two had started ripping each other’s clothes but it was only when you felt his fingertips brush your bare waist, awakening fire underneath your skin did you realize you were only in your bra. You pulled at his crisp button up shirt until the buttons scattered around the room before you impatiently pushed it down his arms and bit at his lip, making him hiss for a moment to pull back to look down at you.

“Behave,” he warned you, smirking slightly and you tilted your head, arching a brow.

“You first.”  

He let out a chuckle, then winked at you and leaned down to kiss you again.

Chapter 28

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 8: Golden Hour

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: The sun sets on Bucky’s last week of the deal to work on your farm

Word count: 2,138

Content/warnings: kissing, cuddling, shaky voices aka holding back crying and emotions, avoiding a sensitive topic, drinking, pet name usage

Author’s Note: Although this chapter is kinda sad, I think it’s sweet to see how much they care for each other. You can really tell neither is looking forward to the separation but they’re both too stubborn to say something about it.

This is a shorter chapter, too, but I hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear your feedback!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky stayed on the phone with Andy for the better part of an hour to make sure he had all of the information. According to Barber, since the cow was given to you ‘in good faith,’ legally, you could keep it without being considered as in debt to Cole. That was a relief, and throughout the weekend, Bucky was being…well, Bucky. His normal controlling self, or at least as much as he could be while still under your roof.

All you wanted to do was enjoy your midday snack on Sunday afternoon before heading back out to do some minor maintenance work when he gave you an update.

“I’ve already gotten Jensen to set up an appointment with a vet who can scan it for chips or any nefarious devices to make sure we’re not being tracked or listened to.”

You stoped midway through biting your granola bar, gesturing with it out to the side of your house where the cow had been staying in surprise.

“Jensen? My ex, Jensen? You’re really working together? I thought you hated him. Fixing the cave wasn’t a one-and-done?”

Bucky shrugged as he looked through your cabinets for something to satisfy his cravings, already half-tired from starting to repair a shed with you and finding schematics for a porch swing. “Well, I technically do hate him, and it’s more like he’s working for me than us working together, but I saw how he’d give up anything to help you, and someone with that quality is worth keeping around.”

He finally settled on a cheese stick and a couple crackers before turning to face you. “Plus, the fact that somehow you don’t hate him helps a little, but I’m still gonna keep him in check.”

You smiled and nodded, throwing away your wrapper and going for another sip out of your water bottle. “Hm, I see. I hope that new training you sent him through will prove useful for the future. Seal his loose lips right up.”

Bucky stopped mid-chew, afraid to look at the knowing smirk on your face. You really were too perceptive for his own good. “Um, yeah. Be a shame to waste it on someone we don’t plan on using. Now hurry up and finish that water bottle. Gotta make sure you’ve got enough energy to finish the repairs on that shed this afternoon so your little cow has a place to lay her head outside. Plus, Curtis is coming over later to help me with a surprise and I’ve gotta make sure I’m ready for him.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about my energy, cowboy. Hope you can keep up.” And with a wink, you polished off your water and walked toward the door to slip on your boots and get back to work.

After a mostly restful weekend, you woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning, the last of the month, the last of- no. You didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you took this early hour as a chance to be productive before you had to get Bucky up. A chance to fill your mind with anything but that thought. You figured you’d get a jump on gathering the eggs. You had time to make a breakfast casserole, that could be good. And then do the crossword from yesterday you hadn’t touched? And maybe read? Really, anything to keep occupied before you had to face the music.

Before you knew it, the oven beeped to signal the end of the casserole’s bake time. You pulled it out and slipped off your oven mitts, running on the cool wooden floors in your socked feet to the staircase and going up to Bucky’s room.

You lightly knocked on the door and cracked it open to see a lump tangled up in the old comforter. As you slowly crept forward over the creaky floor, you could just barely make out the rise and fall of his body. You hated to wake him as he looked so peaceful, but it was time for work, and sleeping in any longer would just postpone the inevitable and waste your valuable time together.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Jamie, rise and shine. Time to get going.”

He groaned and rolled over, squinting at you through the one eye he could pry open.

“Hmmmm. Honey, didn’t I earn an extra five minutes? I’ve been so good and done all the shit you’ve asked of me lately.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his gruff morning voice as he reached out for you, throwing his arms around your hips and shuffling to place his head in your lap. You stroked his hair, basking in the early morning moment.

“Watch your tongue, but yes, you did, and I gave it to you fifteen minutes ago, so get up and ready for the day.”

Bucky grumbled lowly against your jean-clad thigh. “Fuck off, Steve.”

You remained silent until he turned his head up to look at yours at the lack of response. Bucky’s tired eyes were met by your firm warning glance, causing him to backtrack immediately.

“Um, sorry, I, uh… I meant of course, honey, excited to start my ….” His voice began to shake. You could’ve finished the sentence for him. You knew what he was going to say. His last week on the farm. But you didn’t. You didn’t finish his sentence because you didn’t want to hear it either. You simply patted his head and nodded, your eyes slightly more watery than before. You tried to play it off as a yawn before gently lifting him from your lap and standing again.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Your attempt at a snarky reply came out as a whisper, caught somewhere in your throat, where you attempted to clear it out before starting again. “Breakfast is already cooked, just cooling right now. I’ll go ahead and serve it up. I hope you’re dressed and ready, downstairs before it gets too cold.”

By the time Bucky had the chance to process your words and demeanor and nod, you had already turned around and headed back downstairs.

Besides the successful vet appointment, the rest of the days of the week were quite similar to the way Monday went, although Bucky kept getting up earlier, and pushing you to stay up later, not wanting to waste a single second with you.

The farm work went smoothly, much faster than you had recalled your first weeks with Bucky being, considering he couldn’t do a single thing without you by his side back then. The two of you still worked alongside each other, but now it made everything go twice as fast instead of creating roadblocks.

The fields were getting long enough to make hay bales, so you officially got to take Bucky up into the big green tractor and show him the way to properly weave and maneuver through the fields to cut it, turn it, and bale it. You didn’t miss the way he smirked when you told him the piece of equipment you’d be using for the job. That song, ‘Big Green Tractor,’ had played several times in the bar and it didn’t take too long for Bucky to catch on to the innuendo, but he didn’t do anything about it…yet.

For some of the other tasks, Peter came along, too, learning how everything worked. He caught on quickly, which was reassuring because you weren’t sure how things were going to be without Bucky by your side in the coming weeks. The increased speed on everything helped you to finish up earlier than usual, too, giving you most of the night for just relaxing with the two of them. Well, mainly Bucky, since Peter stayed out of the way when he could. You’d had enough time to hang out for a couple hours before dinner, then finish up the evening checks and milkings, and then go back to decompress before bed.

That gave plenty of time for you to go do something with Bucky, just the two of you outside of chores, outside of his scheduled phone calls, to just be. And then each night, after you changed into pajamas, Bucky crawled into your bed with you, his arms wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding lazy, yet deep conversation until the first one between the two of you fell asleep.

This new arrangement with no signs of Bucky returning to his old quarters allowed Peter move into the house. Sure, it may not have been that exact room in favor of one of the other guest rooms, but you insisted that now that the rest of the crew had finished up their work in the mines, there was no sense in him staying alone in the barndiminium. Especially if he was to be here for the foreseeable future.

Another night, another chance for you and Bucky to enjoy the sunset out in the rocking chairs, facing west. Except, Bucky wasn’t the biggest fan of any sort of seating with armrests that might block your closeness, so the two of you sat pressed up against each other on the front porch swing, the surprise for you that Curtis had come over to help Bucky build earlier in the week.

You weren’t all alone in these moments, though. Sure, all the people around you knew to stay away and give the two of you privacy in these times, but it was different for the farm animals. As you leaned back against Bucky’s chest, his arms around your waist and head tucked over your shoulder, satisfied yet worried thoughts filling your heads, the two of you would laugh as the sheep and cattle dogs would run up to you, accompanied by the mini highland cow that you’d decided to let Decks name the next time she visited.

The week had flown by already, full of nights like this, the two of you sitting in the glow of the golden hour that Bucky would surely miss in the city, sharing kisses and everything you could think of.

The air was just cool enough on Friday night when the sun went down to make a bonfire. Cherry had the night off for once, so Curtis had brought her over for a small picnic in one of the fields before joining the two of you by the fire.

You and Bucky had made an ice bucket of beer for the occasion, sipping lightly throughout the easy conversation, your back to his chest as his was against a log, the both of you sitting on an old quilt. Curtis and Cherry were doing the same as you got to know the girl who seemed to be stealing his heart.

“So Houston, huh? How do you feel about here?” Bucky gestured across the fire to her with his bottle.

“Yeah, kind of glad to be out of there, though. Have some time to take it slow away from the city, ya know? What about you? You’re not from around here either, right?”

You did your best to hide your wince at Cherry’s response. Sure, she was just being nice and holding genuine conversation. You couldn’t blame her for not knowing the way you and Bucky were trying to ignore any topics that even came close to his departure or what he was doing here in the first place.

Bucky was much better at hiding his true emotions, though, a product of his livelihood. “Yeah, city life has been good to me. Doesn’t mean I don’t love it out here just as much, though. I think I’ve gained a whole new perspective on this place and the people just from a month.” He gave a small smile with his response which Cherry returned with a nod before Bucky leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I feel that. I kind of already feel at home. But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

There it was. She said it out loud, creating a pang of pain in both your and Bucky’s chests. He cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance at his stoic pal across the fire, and Curtis seemed completely unbothered. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of how much you and Bucky cared for each other. And maybe he was right for that. As soon as Bucky left, he had to go back to his normal, busy schedule that poor Steve had been maintaining this whole time, and then some. Bucky wouldn’t have space in his schedule to come back here or worry about you for anything but business, right?

You let out a shaky breath as Bucky rubbed his hand along your side, responding just barely loud enough to overtake the crackling fire. “Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: when things heat up to be pulled apart…I’m sure there a scientific term for that (entropy?)

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @mrsnikstan

[sashaisready]

Starting Over - Masterlist (completed)

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

(Standalone series - not related to any other my other stories/characters)

Unfortunately I don't use taglists.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Chapter 1.5 - Before

Chapter 2 - Broken

Chapter 3 - Bolt

Chapter 4 - Build

Chapter 5 - Better

If you enjoyed this series and would like to buy me a coffee, here's my Ko-Fi link 💐

[cryptidcasanova]

Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.  

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."  

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

[navybrat817]

Moving in Slow Motion

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Everything changes for Bucky when he meets you and your daughter.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, meet-cute, daughter nicknamed Sweet Pea, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: How mob!Bucky and our single mom met. Thanks to @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me babble about this AU. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky met you and Sweet Pea at a science museum and his life changed for the better.

Growing up, Bucky enjoyed going to the museum. Beyond developing critical and analytical thinking, science encourages curiosity and creativity.

In another life, he liked to imagine he taught science and had a family instead of being a mob boss.

It wasn’t fair to think that since his friends were his family, but something was missing that they couldn’t provide him with.

Whether for nostalgic purposes or to clear his head, he found himself back in the familiar museum. He stood and silently observed various exhibits, his eyes darting back and forth as families bustled around him and enjoyed the interactive experiences.

Something tightened in his chest and he didn’t want to ponder on that for long.

A chorus of chatter and excitement drew his attention and he stepped back to make room when he saw a group of kids in matching shirts walk by. Field trips were always something to look forward to and the wonder in their eyes reminded him of simpler times.

“Mama, Mama, look!” A sweet voice called out before something bumped his leg. He glanced down to see a little girl look up at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, Mister.”

Bucky Barnes struck fear into powerful men all over the world. He could only imagine how he looked to this sweet little girl with his large and imposing stature.

People liked to say he had a cold heart, but one look at her and it melted.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Sweet Pea.” He wasn’t sure where the nickname came from as he crouched down to make sure she was okay. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She quickly shook her head and appeared to relax a bit when he gave her a small smile. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. “No, Mister. I’m okay.”

He nodded, glad to hear that. “You just got excited by everything here, didn’t you? I get it.”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled, making his smile widen. He didn’t smile much these days. “Science is my favorite!”

“It’s my favorite, too,” he said, pointing to one of the rooms. “Did you know in that room you can try to build your own roller coaster?”

She gasped, her eyes lighting up. “I can?!”

He chuckled. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “You sure can. I’ll bet you can build a really good one.”

“Sir, did she bump into you?” You rushed over through the crowd as Bucky’s eyes flickered up, his breath caught in his throat. You weren’t in a matching shirt like the kids, but wore a similar color. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t help but stare at you as he stood upright, everything moving in slow motion. The little girl made his heart melt, but you set it on fire.

“I said sorry, Mama,” your daughter said, a slight pout on her face when you put a protective arm around her and gave him a wary look. He appreciated your protective instinct. “Accidents happen.”

Bucky wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that his eyes went to your left hand and was happy to not see a wedding ring. Questions went through his mind, ranging from why you weren’t married to what was the full backstory of you and your daughter?

“I know how happy you are to be here, but you also need to be careful and stay close to me,” you said in a gentle, but firm tone. Bucky had a feeling you weren’t referring to bumping into people, but to avoid strangers. “Okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” she replied, hugging your legs.

“It’s fine. Really. I’m pretty sure I walked straight into a wall once because one of the exhibits distracted me,” he teased, unsure of why he wanted to talk to you. He just did.

You smiled after a moment, keeping your arm around your daughter. “I appreciate that. This visit was all she talked about for the last week.”

“I don’t blame her. I hope she has the best time,” he said sincerely.

Your daughter tugged on your shirt. “Show him what I colored!”

Your eyes went to Bucky before you dug into your tote bag. “What do we say?” You asked your daughter.

“Please,” she replied.

Bucky smiled to himself when you took out a coloring sheet with various science and space objects. “Wow! Did you color this?” He asked the little girl. “It’s very good.”

She smiled proudly. “Uh-huh!”

“It’s for a contest. The winner gets a free season pass to the museum,” you explained, carefully tucking it back in your bag.

“I hope I win,” she said, hopefulness in her innocent eyes.

Maybe he could make a donation and get that season pass for her. Hell, he had enough money to buy the museum if he wished.

“Well, I’m not a judge, but you’d win if it was up to me,” Bucky said, taking it as a victory when she smiled again.

You gazed at him before you shook your head. “We should get back to the group.”

“Aww,” she pouted, giving Bucky a small wave. “Bye bye, Mister.”

“Bucky. My name is Bucky,” he said, wishing the wholesome interaction didn’t have to end. He was completely enamored with the two of you. “It was nice meeting you, Sweet Pea.”

“Sweet Pea?” You repeated. He worried he made a mistake in saying that before you smiled. “I call her that sometimes.”

“It’s fitting,” he said, tucking a bit of his hair back. “Any chance I might get your name before you go?”

You hesitated before you told him. You even gave him your daughter’s real name. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

Bucky was probably pushing his luck, but he’d regret it if he didn’t try. “Look, I know this is forward, but can I give you my number?” He asked, giving you what he hoped was a charming yet soft stare.

He didn’t take offense to the skepticism in your eyes. “Um…” You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the group was still close by.

“It’s more than okay if you say no,” he said. He didn’t want you to feel pressured in the slightest and he shouldn’t have assumed you were single because you weren’t wearing a ring.

It was also selfish in a way since you and your daughter seemed so bright and his world was dark, but maybe you two were the real reason he went to the museum today.

After a moment and exchanging a look with your daughter, you shrugged and handed him your phone. “Sure, why not?”

His heart soared when he put his number in, wondering how quickly he’d hear from you. “You won’t regret it,” he promised, making sure to give Sweet Pea one more smile, too. “Have fun making the roller coaster. And good luck with the contest.”

“Thanks, Mister Bucky!”

Bucky’s heart melted all over again as she pulled you away. You even glanced back and gave him a tiny smile, which he returned with one of his own.

He didn’t know you yet, but he sensed deep down that your expectations were set low when it came to men. He was going to enjoy raising the bar.

And he was going to enjoy giving you and Sweet Pea the best life possible, if you gave him a chance.

Wait ‘til the gang hears about this…

I don't have a name yet for the AU and still coming up with a nickname for our reader (Dream Girl and Starlight have been suggested!), but I can't wait to share more. Check out Heart and Home here! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi