#beefy bucky exchange

[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?”

[heytheredelulu]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

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[brunchable]

This is your boyfriend, Mom? PT. 2

《 Lucas takes Bucky to bring-your-dad-to-school. 》

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Single Mom reader. Themes: Comedy. Fluff with Lucas <3 Also Bucky getting cockblocked at the end. Summary: Lucas has an upcoming bring your dad to school day, and he chose to being Bucky with him. A/N: Bucky x Lucas is starting to grow on me help🥲 Parts : 1 and 1.5

Lucas had been suspiciously quiet during dinner. Normally, you’d be hearing about how his day went, including stories about how he managed to outwit his teacher with some clever quip. But tonight, he was pushing his food around his plate like it had personally offended him.

You and Bucky exchange a glance. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong, Lucky?” you ask gently, leaning forward. “You’ve barely touched your mashed potatoes, and you love those.”

Lucas sighs dramatically, not even looking up. “It’s bring-your-dad-to-school day tomorrow.”

Bucky pauses mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “And?”

“And… nothing,” Lucas mutters, eyes fixed on his plate.

You tilt your head, trying to decipher the sudden gloom. “Well, that sounds fun. Maybe you should bring your dad. I’m sure he’d—”

Lucas immediately cuts you off with a loud groan, throwing his head back in frustration. “Ughhh, Mom! No! Dad's so boring. He works in finance. All he does is talk about spreadsheets and stocks. None of the kids will care!”

You can’t help but laugh softly. “He’s not that bad, Lucas. He could probably teach your classmates a lot about—”

“Boring stuff,” Lucas finishes for you, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. “Last time he tried to explain stocks to me, I fell asleep with my eyes open.”

Bucky nearly chokes on his water, trying to stifle a laugh. “You fell asleep with your eyes open?”

Lucas nods seriously, “Mid-sentence, too. I think I went into some kind of boredom coma.”

You smirk, brushing a hand through Lucas’s hair. “Come on, he’s your dad. He’d probably love to come.”

Lucas gives you an exasperated look, then glances over at Bucky, who’s watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Well,” Lucas says, avoiding eye contact, “I was kinda thinking… maybe Bucky could come instead.”

Bucky looks surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “Me?”

Lucas shrugs, his eyes fixed on the table. “Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a metal arm and you work with the Avengers. You’re way cooler than someone who talks about dividends all day.”

You stifle a chuckle, giving Lucas a gentle nudge. “You’re sure? I mean, it’s bring-your-dad-to-school day, not bring-your-mom’s-boyfriend-to-school day.”

Lucas huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, it should be. Besides, Bucky’s basically, like, half-superhero, half-robot, and a little bit grumpy old man.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “A little grumpy?”

“Only sometimes,” Lucas adds quickly. “But the metal arm makes up for it.”

You shoot Bucky a look, stifling a laugh, while Bucky grins down at Lucas. “So, you want me to come, huh? Even though I’m just ‘kinda’ cool?”

Lucas rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re cooler than spreadsheets.”

Bucky snorts and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “High praise.”

× × × × 

The Next Day: Bring Your Dad to School Day

Lucas had been jittery all morning, and you weren’t sure whether it was nerves or excitement. He kept fixing his hair and adjusting his backpack, sneaking glances at Bucky as if checking to see if he’d changed his mind about coming.

When you finally arrive at the school, Lucas shifts uncomfortably, standing close to you and Bucky with a mixture of anxiety and hope in his eyes. “You’ll come inside, right?”

Bucky crouches slightly to meet Lucas at eye level, offering him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it, buddy. Besides, I’ve gotta make sure I look cool enough for your friends, right?”

Lucas lets out a breath and nods, though he tries to play it off cool. “Just… don’t embarrass me, okay?”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender. “No embarrassment. Got it.”

As you enter the classroom, the air is buzzing with excitement. Kids are introducing their dads, proudly sharing what they do for work—doctors, engineers, even a dad who runs a bakery, much to everyone’s delight.

When it’s Lucas’s turn, the room grows quiet, and he shuffles nervously to the front of the class. He glances back at Bucky, his hands fidgeting at his sides, and when he starts speaking, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Um… this is Bucky. He’s not my dad, but he’s my mom’s boyfriend.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the room nervously before flicking back to Bucky, who gives him an encouraging nod.

At first, Lucas stammers, his voice soft and unsure. “He… um… he’s an Avenger.”

The entire class gasps, but Lucas doesn't look up. He shuffles a bit, glancing at the floor. “And, uh… he’s kinda cool.”

Bucky smiles warmly, but Lucas’s words grow more confident as he goes on, his voice gaining strength as he talks about Bucky.

“He helps me with my homework, even though he pretends like he doesn’t understand math… but he does. And… uh, he taught me how to ride a bike.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you feel a lump forming in your throat as Lucas continues, his confidence building with every word.

“And… one time, when I was scared to sleep because of a thunderstorm, he sat with me until I fell asleep. He didn’t even get mad when I drooled on him.” A few kids giggle, and Lucas grins, glancing at Bucky. “He says his metal arm doesn’t feel anything, but I think he just says that so I don’t worry when I hold onto it too tight.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and your eyes start to well up with tears, your heart swelling as you hear the affection in Lucas’s voice.

“He helps me with stuff that’s hard for me, like when I don’t get something right away, and he never makes me feel bad about it. And… he told me that even superheroes need help sometimes, so it’s okay if I ask for help too.”

The classroom is silent, except for the occasional sniffle from you, tears pooling in your eyes as Lucas keeps talking, his confidence shining through.

“So yeah,” Lucas finishes, smiling now, “Bucky’s not my real dad, but he’s kinda like a superhero at home too. He doesn’t fly or have a shield, but… he’s the best.”

Bucky looks completely stunned, blinking back emotion as he stares at Lucas. The classroom erupts in applause, the kids clearly in awe of everything they just heard. You wipe a tear from your cheek, trying not to let anyone see how much Lucas’s words touched you.

As Lucas walks back to his seat, Bucky watches him with a mix of pride and disbelief. When Lucas sits down, the teacher looks at Bucky expectantly.

“Well, Mr. Barnes, it seems Lucas has given you quite the introduction,” she says warmly. “Would you like to say a few words about Lucas?”

Bucky clears his throat, standing a little taller as he glances over at Lucas, who’s avoiding eye contact, clearly a bit shy after all that. “Uh, sure,” Bucky says, his voice soft but steady.

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then smiles gently as he looks at Lucas.

“Lucas… he’s, uh, he’s kind of a big deal, y’know?” Bucky starts, his voice tender. “He’s got this heart that’s… I don’t even know how to describe it. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And he cares about people in ways that… well, I guess you don’t really expect from a kid his age.”

Bucky shifts, his eyes softening as he continues. “He’s tough. And not just the way he talks tough—which he definitely does, let me tell you. But he’s got this kind of strength that’s rare. The kind that makes him want to help other people, even when he’s having a rough day.”

He pauses, glancing at Lucas, who is trying to hide a small smile, his cheeks pink.

“I never expected to be the guy teaching a kid how to ride a bike or helping with homework. But with Lucas… I dunno, it’s different. It’s like he teaches me more than I could ever teach him. He’s patient with me when I mess up—‘cause, believe me, I mess up a lot.”

The class is quiet, listening intently as Bucky’s voice softens even more. “He makes me want to be better. And he never has to say that; it’s just the way he is. I didn’t think I’d be good at this kind of thing, being there for someone like him. But Lucas? He makes it easy. And… well, I’m just lucky I get to be part of his life.”

Bucky glances back at you for a moment, a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he looks at Lucas, smiling warmly. “I’m proud of him. More than I can put into words.”

The room is silent for a moment, the emotion in Bucky’s words hanging in the air, and you have to quickly wipe away a tear before anyone notices.

The teacher smiles, clearly touched. “That was beautiful, Mr. Barnes. Thank you for sharing.” She looks at the class. “Does anyone have any questions for Bucky?”

Dozens of hands shoot up, and Bucky laughs softly, still a little overwhelmed by the moment.

“Alright,” Bucky says, grinning. “Who’s first?”

A kid at the front waves his hand excitedly. “Is your metal arm, like, super strong? Can you crush stuff with it?”

Bucky chuckles and flexes his metal arm playfully. “It’s pretty strong. I’ve crushed a few things with it, but I try not to do that too often.”

Another kid raises their hand. “Do you know Captain America?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, I know him. He’s my best friend.”

Lucas perks up at that, unable to resist adding, “He beat Captain America once. But that’s only because Steve tripped over his own shield.”

The class erupts into giggles, and Bucky shoots Lucas a mock glare. “Hey, I told you to keep that between us.”

The questions continue, with kids asking everything from how Bucky became an Avenger to whether he can fly. Every time Bucky answers, Lucas watches him with this quiet admiration, a look you hadn’t seen before.

Eventually, the teacher wraps up the session, thanking Bucky for his time. As you head out of the classroom, Lucas lingers by Bucky’s side, still a little shy but clearly proud of the whole experience.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Lucas says softly, glancing up at Bucky as you walk outside.

Bucky smiles, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “And you made me look pretty good in front of your friends, kid. Thanks.”

Lucas shrugs, but you can see the small grin on his face. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t that hard.”

× × × ×

The house was quiet, the kind of calm that comes after a long, eventful day. You’d just finished tucking Lucas into bed, though his excitement from earlier had kept him talking longer than usual. His eyes had sparkled as he recounted every detail of the day, especially how cool his friends thought Bucky was.

Now, you found yourself standing at the doorway of Lucas’s room, watching him sleep peacefully, his small face nestled into his pillow, breathing steady.

Bucky’s footsteps were soft as he approached from behind, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin gently on your shoulder. 

“He’s out like a light,” Bucky murmured, his voice low.

You nod, leaning back into him with a content sigh. “He had a big day.”

Bucky’s hold on you tightened slightly, and after a beat of silence, he asked, “Was it… okay? I mean, I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

You turn in his arms, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Mess it up? Bucky, you were amazing. You saw how happy he was.” You pause, your voice growing more tender. “And how proud he was to bring you.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered, his usually stoic expression faltering for a moment as he glanced back at Lucas’s sleeping form. “I wasn’t sure… you know, about this whole ‘being a dad figure’ thing. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, overstep.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing lightly against the roughness of his stubble. “You didn’t overstep, Bucky. You’ve been exactly what he needs.”

Bucky looked down at you, his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability he rarely let surface. “I didn’t think I’d be good at this,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think I could be.”

You shook your head gently. “You are, though. Lucas looks up to you. He trusts you.” You could feel your throat tighten, remembering the words Lucas had spoken earlier in the classroom, how he’d talked about Bucky with such affection and pride. “He loves you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as if the weight of your words was too much to take in. But then, after a long breath, he whispered, “Yeah. I think I love him too.”

There was a softness in his voice, a kind of admission that felt raw and real. You blinked away the tears that welled up again, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

“He’s lucky to have you,” you murmured into his chest.

Bucky wrapped both arms around you, holding you close as if grounding himself in the warmth of the moment. 

“I’m the lucky one,” he whispered into your hair.

After a few quiet moments, you pull away slightly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “You know, you didn’t embarrass him today, but you both did make me cry in the back of the classroom.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“Yeah, I noticed that.” His smile turned warm, and he kissed your forehead softly. “Didn’t mean to make you cry, but I guess we’re all getting soft, huh?”

You laugh quietly, wiping the last of your tears. “Maybe just a little.”

Just then, there’s a small rustle from the bed, and Lucas’s sleepy voice drifts over to you both. 

“Mom… Bucky?”

You both turn, finding Lucas sitting up slightly, rubbing his eyes with one small fist. 

“Why are you guys whispering?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky grins, stepping over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Just talking about how cool your day was, buddy.”

Lucas yawns, his eyes half-closed as he leans back into his pillow. 

“You were cool today too,” he mutters sleepily, his words slurring a little. “Even if your hair still looks like it’s trying to run away.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “Thanks, kid.”

Lucas is quiet for a second before he adds, even softer now, “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky.”

Bucky’s expression softens. He reaches out, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “Me too, kid. Get some sleep.”

Lucas smiles faintly, his eyes already closing again as he settles back into sleep.

Bucky stands up, and the two of you tiptoe out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. Once in the hallway, Bucky exhales softly, as if letting go of something he hadn’t even realised he was holding on to.

You slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze. “You’re doing great,” you whisper.

Bucky looks down at your intertwined hands and nods, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah,” he whispers back, pulling you closer. “I think we all are.”

× × × × 

Lucas was sound asleep in his room, and you and Bucky finally had the house to yourselves. The TV flickered softly in the background, but you couldn’t care less about what was on. Bucky had already pulled you into his lap, his hands roaming under your shirt, his lips pressing hot kisses against your neck.

You let out a breathy laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed this.”

Bucky smirked, his voice low and dripping with desire.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” he growled, his hands gripping your waist. “I’m gonna take you upstairs, throw you on that bed, spread you out so wide—"

“Why would you do that to her?”

Both of you froze, and your heads whipped around in sync to see Lucas standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and holding his stuffed dinosaur.

Bucky blinked, his entire body going rigid as his face flushed a deep shade of red. "L-Lucas?" he choked out.

You quickly scrambled off Bucky’s lap, yanking your shirt back down while trying to hide your laughter.

“Lucky, what are you doing up? I thought you were asleep.”

Bucky's entire face flushed beet red, and he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I didn't mean-what I said was-uh..." His brain was clearly not firing on all cylinders. 

You bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter as Bucky squirmed, knowing full well he had no idea how to recover. 

"Why would you throw her? Then spread her out." Lucas asked again, his little face scrunched up in confusion. "She's not a ball or a sandwich.”

You stifled a giggle, watching Bucky flounder. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to string together some explanation. 

"It's, uh... it's just an expression, buddy. You know, like when people say 'hit the hay' but they're not actually hitting anything?" 

Lucas blinked, unconvinced. "But you said you were gonna throw her and make her spread open. What does that mean?" 

Bucky's eyes widened in horror, and you couldn't hold it back anymore-you let out a loud snort, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter. Bucky glared at you like this is your fault, but you were too busy wiping tears from your eyes to care.

Bucky’s face was buried in his hands now. He muttered something unintelligible into his palms, and you could tell he was dying inside.

“It’s… just an expression,” he groaned, finally looking up, but clearly at a loss.

Lucas blinked, still not understanding. “I don’t get it. Do adults spread each other out when they’re tired?”

You were doubled over in laughter now, barely able to catch your breath. “Oh my God, this is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was considering moving to another planet. He let out the world’s longest sigh before saying, “No, Lucas, adults don’t… spread each other out when they’re tired.”

Lucas squinted, still confused. “Then why would you say that?”

"I'LL EXPLAIN TOMORROW," Bucky blurted out, clearly desperate to end the conversation.

“Okay. But it sounds weird. Like, why wouldn’t you just say you’re gonna tuck her in? That’s nicer than throwing her and spreading her out.” Lucas nodded, though it was clear he still didn’t get it.

Bucky muttered something under his breath, staring at the ceiling like he was silently asking the universe for strength. 

“You’re right, Lucas. Tucking her in is a much better way to say it.”

Lucas gave him a satisfied nod, as if he’d just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “Yeah. So next time, just say you’re gonna tuck her in.”

Bucky shot you a look that was half I hate you and half I’m going to die. “Sure thing, champ. Next time, I’ll… tuck her in.”

“Good,” Lucas said, completely oblivious to the awkwardness. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t wanna go back to mine.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, buddy.”

Lucas turned to head back toward the hallway but stopped just before he left. “And Bucky?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, dreading whatever was coming next. “Yeah, Lucas?”

“Next time you should say ‘I’m gonna tuck you in real tight.’ That sounds better than spreading her out.”

Bucky didn't even try to respond, but then, after a brief pause, a mischievous grin spread across his face. 

“Alright, Mr. Tuck Expert,” he said, standing up quickly. “You’re gonna get tucked in first!”

Before Lucas could react, Bucky scooped him up like a sack of potatoes, tossing him over his shoulder. Lucas squealed in surprise, kicking his legs in the air as Bucky made his way to the stairs.

“Bucky! What are you doing?!”

Bucky laughed, giving Lucas a playful bounce. “I’m tucking you in, but I’m gonna do it real tight just like you said!”

Lucas giggled uncontrollably as Bucky carried him toward the stairs. “Not like that! That’s too tight!”

Bucky threw you a playful grin over his shoulder. “See you upstairs, doll,” he said smoothly. “Looks like we’re gonna have company in the middle tonight.”

Lucas kept giggling the whole way as Bucky disappeared up the stairs, bouncing him lightly like a sack of potatoes. You shook your head, still laughing, knowing full well that once Lucas was settled in the middle of your bed, Bucky would come back down for some unfinished business.

[gayerthanevertbh]

great war | i want you pt.3

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

pairings: dad’s best friend!natasha x fem!reader

summary: your father doesn’t know it yet, but you’re in love with his best friend. and what makes it better is that you’re sure enough that she feels the same way. the sad part is, neither of you can word out your love for each other properly.

warnings: slight angst, heavily detailed smut, g!p natasha romanoff, dirty talking, pet names, degradation involved, slight age play kink, jealousy, daddy kink, top!natasha & bottom!reader, and more - minors dni

notes: i want beefy tasha so bad

Birds chirping outside my window woke me up, prompting me to rub my eyes as I sat slowly on this very soft, delicate bed. I yawned loudly and looked around. This isn't my room. It took me a moment to realize I was in Natasha's room, and I was mortified. I knew what happened last night, but my vision was hazy, and I remembered her conversation with Bucky. Her voice was flecked with jealousy, but it was subtle. Next thing you know, I'm in her room. Resting.

"You're awake." I looked up to see Natasha handing me a glass of water and an aspirin to relieve the ache in my head; she didn't appear upset. It was more like she enjoyed being in the same room as me, with no one else to bother us.

“Was I that drunk?” I slurred, drinking from the glass she handed me as she sighed. "I'm assuming you've spoken with Bucky."

Natasha dropped her smile and sighed deeply through her nostrils, "Yeah, he was drunk too. I think he wanted to fight me."

“D-Does he know about… us?” My chest sighs with relief as she shakes her head. I wouldn’t imagine them fighting on the streets; Natasha’s temper can be intolerable. “Oh, okay. So it wasn’t that bad, right?”

“He seems cocky,” she murmured, playing with her fingertips instead of looking at me. “I just–I saw him touching you, and I didn’t like that.”

I sighed as I reached for her hand, and I'm glad she didn't flinch - I needed to let her know Bucky wasn't going to stand a chance. I was entirely hers. I wish she knew that more.

“He’s just a friend, Tasha.”

“He could be more than that–”

“Please?” I cut her off as I cupped her face and drew her closer. We exchanged glances, unsure who would make the first move. She looks at my eyes, then at my lips as she bites into her lower ones. There was no time to fool around. “Tash, look at me.”

She looked into my eyes once again. “I don’t want to sound jealous, but I am. Y/n, I really am. I need to know he’s just a friend, so please just… tell me he is.”

The world felt like it was beginning again. Every time she looked at me, I could swear I sank deeper until I reached the bottom of the ocean and begged to be saved. She was my breath, my knight in shining armor. I'd kill myself for her if I could. I know it's an exaggeration, but I would. She leaned slowly and kissed my mouth, and I could feel how plump and sweet her lips were. I was merely addicted.

I opened my eyes and watched as her face got wrinkled, licking her lips slowly. She was beautiful, like a mature older woman who looked young for their age. I whispered, “I hope you trust me.”

“I do, with all of me. Within me.”

Within me, I repeated her words in my head. Heaven.

“Is Dad here?” she shakes her head, revealing her smirk. “We should watch a movie together. What do you say?”

“Asking me on a date, little girl?” I giggled, nodding my head. Natasha kissed my lips again and brought me to her lap, squeezing my waist softly – afraid enough to hurt me. “Do you want to run away with me someday?”

This made me feel still. This question was similar to Bucky's request for him to marry her, but it was slightly better in her case. It's more accurate than marrying someone because I knew I wasn't ready for such a big commitment. After all, I'm just a kid who has a crush on my father's best friend.

It could be more significant than that.

“W-What?”

Her body deflated with my answer. I shouldn’t have said that; I should’ve said yes – because I would.

“Do you want to run away with me?”

I let out a light chuckle and wrapped my arms around her neck, pressing our foreheads together.

“How are we going to do that, Tash?” she massages my left arm, chasing for another kiss as she feels desperate for me. “Tash, wait–”

“Pennsylvania, have you been there?”

“I thought you wanted to go somewhere in another country, like Spain.”

Natasha sighed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe we could do something like that. But I want you to be close to Steve as well. I don’t want him thinking I took you away from him.”

“Is it even a good idea to tell him?” I pondered as I made circular motions with my fingers on the back of her scalp. “Like, do you think he’d approve of us?”

There was a long silence, but it wasn't awkward. Natasha looks at me, wondering what would happen if Steve knew about my relationship with her. Would he be disheartened? Disgusted? The second option was more accurate than the first, which he disapproves of.

So what have I been doing with myself?

"We don't have to tell him, baby," she cooed, nibbling on my bottom lip and slithering her hand under my shirt as my nipple felt her fingers on it. "No one needs to know about us. It's just the two of us. Okay?”

Being a secret wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

“Okay,” I whispered, seeing her widely grinning – which made my heart happy. “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

She kissed me again, but this time it was more heated. More passionate if you put it into a more profound word. I felt her hand raking on my right breast while the other was caressing my left ass cheek, moaning and grunting each time I ground on her pelvis – which I could feel her hardening member.

“Oh god,” she groans into my mouth, removing both shirts. “Keep grinding on me, baby girl… feel so good.” I pushed her slowly back on the mattress and kissed her fiercely, trying to take charge. But she was quick enough to spin me around, and I was beneath her, mewling for my life.

“You want this dick, don’t you?” she teases, kissing my ribcage up to my chest as she gives my skin open-mouth kisses. “You want this. Tell me you want this.”

I want this. I want you in me.

“I-I want it, Daddy–” my breath hitches when I felt her tongue flicking on my right nipple, biting it slowly. “Argh! Tasha, oh my god–it feels so good…”

She spent her time making love to my body, her lips hovering over every inch of my skin. I felt desired and craved. Something about her kissing me all over made me feel important and vulnerable. Everyone, including Bucky, sees me as something good or not appreciated. Maybe even both. But to Natasha, in her eyes, I’ll always be that good little girl for her, as she always says.

Natasha pulls down my panties and licks up my pubic bone, pressing her nose onto my clit – smelling me, wanting me. I prided my legs open and quietly asked, “Y-You don’t have to eat me. I just want a quickie. That’s all.”

“Why? Are you leaving me?” I know she was teasing, but I felt a pan of sadness. She knew where I was going today, yet didn’t speak about it.

Bucky Barnes.

“N-No, but I have to see him–”

She pulls herself up and opens my mouth, pressing her thumb and index finger against my cheeks and spitting a wad of saliva on my tongue. "Let me fuck you first, baby," she growls. “Can’t let him take you away from me without claiming you first.”

Natasha swiftly removes her boxers and strokes her penis, getting it hard. I offered to help, but she kept my other wrist in place – I guess she was this possessive today. But she never dared touch me in a rough matter, and she would always ask permission for that. But her spitting on my tongue was something else, immensely turning me on. I looked down at our bodies and saw the tip of her dick leaked with pre-cum, dribbling on my stomach.

“Sorry,” she murmured, pecking my jaw. “I’m hard right now.” It was nature, so it wasn’t much of her fault. I cupped her face again and softly kissed her, then flicked my tongue on her upper lip, begging her to fuck my mouth with her tongue. She gladly did, thrusting her tongue in my mouth as she licked the roof of my mouth.

She mumbles, "You taste so good," she says as she aligns her dick on my tight hole and gradually thrusts into me, groaning in my mouth. “Oh, fuck. you’re so tight, baby.” I inhaled deeply and clawed at her back, digging my nails into her skin. Her penis was always huge and thick. If you look closely, you will notice how many veins she has run the length of her dick. And the tip of her cock was pink, really pink. She doesn’t shave much of her pubic hair, but from time to time, she does.

“Daddy, you’re too big!” I exclaimed, throwing my head back onto the pillow as I felt her pushing more of her length inside of me – turning myself on when I heard her whispering the dirtiest words out of her mouth. “O-Oh god, I’m so full…”

Natasha pulls out slowly and pushes back in again with a roll of her hips, murmuring: “Feel good, baby? Yeah, bet that feels good. You love this big cock too much, huh?” I nodded, whimpering while biting down my lip. “S-shit, you’re clenching on my dick! Fuck, keep clenching around me, baby.”

She holds my hips down and starts pounding me, the headboard hitting against the wall maliciously – hoping that no one else could hear us being so… lewd. But then I realized we live a bit further away from the village, so I took my chances and started screaming her name, rolling my hips with her.

She licks my neck, kissing it and whispering, "Your screams turn me on so much." The room is filled with the sound of our skin slapping one another and the smell of our sexual activity. At this point, she was using you like one of the toys in her collection. “Push Daddy’s cock out, come on baby… you’re gonna make me fucking cum!”

Unconsciously, her hips begin to move, and her grunt intensifies until you hear it coming from outside her room. But I didn't give a damn; I allowed her to beat me down on her bed and beg me to clench around her dick.

And I did.

"Can I call you a slut?" she asked quietly in my ear as she pushed herself inside me. “P-Please? Can I call you my fucking slut?” I nodded, feeling parched. I clutched her close and looked out my window, noticing more birds from the tree looking down at us. It was an odd sensation because these were just animals, but it would be a different story if they were humans.

"Do you realize you're a fucking slut?" She growled as I lifted my legs and intertwined them behind her back, squeezing her. "Are you my slut, baby? My personal little slut?”

"Uh-huh, I'm your slut, Daddy... your personal slut," I nodded frantically. She smiled at me almost maliciously as she realized she'd bottomed out. With my tightness, she could barely pull her dick out, causing her to groan.

“Oh god, you’re so fucking tight… can’t even pull out from your pussy. Your little pussy took this dick, huh?” Her cock twitches as she chuckles, her other hand pressing against my stomach as I scream in delight. “Yeah, scream it, baby. Let them know you’re being fucked, especially by me. Your other Daddy’s best friend.”

"I'm close-" my breath hitched once more as I looked down at our genitals, which were completely fused together. She kissed my lips, and I felt her spit run down my throat, causing me to tremble. “D-Daddy, I can’t take it–oh my god, I’m coming!”

"Cum, baby, cum for me," she says as she gives three more hard thrusts. Squeeze my dick, yeah—oh fuck, I can feel you... you feel so good!" As I climaxed, I arched my lower back and noticed white dots appear. I could tell she was getting close, so I hugged her while chasing another kiss from her, begging for more.

"I'm going to get you pregnant," she grunts, rolling her hips on me hard. "I'm going to make you round and swollen, steal you from your father, and make us a family. Do you want that, sweetie? Want my cum?”

"N-no, wait," I prompted myself, trying to push her stomach out, but she pushed me back down on her bed and began howling. “Tasha, wait–”

“We’re roleplaying,” she simply says, her breath ragged. “Come on, play along with me. M’promise gonna pull out, just play with me…” I decided to indulge her dirty fantasies and let her pound into me once more, my skin burning each time her thighs collided with mine. She looks down at me intently, her brow furrowing as she nears her climax.

“Tell me you don’t want me to cum inside you,” she demanded, her eyes still gazing at mine. As I screamed, she groped my right breast harshly. “Tell me you don’t want Daddy to get you pregnant. Come on… tell me.”

“P-Please don’t cum in me…”

"What if I want to?" she grunts, covering my mouth with her hand as I whimper on it. “Shh, answer me. What if I don’t want to?” I shook my head and writhed away from her, luring her deep inside me until I was pregnant with her children. She admitted that it was all a ruse - she would never get me pregnant.

She removed her hand from my mouth as I screamed, “Pull out! Please, just pull out–I don’t want to get pregnant–”

“I’m here, baby–fuck! Oh my god, I'm here," she says softly, pushing my hair away from my face and kissing me hard on the lips. Murmuring my mouth, she said: “I’m cumming, baby. I’m cumming deep inside of you; take it all. Take it. That’s it–Ugh, you feel amazing…”

She did not come inside of me. Instead, she drew back and jerked herself off, missing her climax. She decided to come all over my chest and moan out my name every time she spurts ropes of cum all over my chest, some on my face. Natasha groaned in euphoria as she looked down at me; this was a pleasant sight for her. Something captivating that could stain her mind for decades until she dies.

“Are you okay?” she asked, out of breath. I felt her body lying beside me while her hand trailed up and down my stomach. “Please tell me you’re okay…”

“I’m okay,” I whispered, looking at her with droopy eyes. Natasha only smiles and pulls me closer to her, kissing my temple. She says, “That was amazing, better than I’d imagined.”

“Do you like roleplaying?”

There was a pause, but she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I do. It’s one of my favorites when it comes to sex.”

“Do you want to do that more often with me?” I inquired. She nodded again, but her smile was one of concealment as if it were a dirty secret. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your fantasies, Nat.” I put my thumb on her cheek and caressed it, smiling back at her.

“It’s just that,” her words trailed, looking down at her penis as she thought about the choice of words she would say. “My fantasies can be really upsetting. Like… I have a thing for age play.”

This took me back. I prompted myself, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “W-What do you mean, Tash?”

“I want you to be younger, like… really young.”

“How young are we talking about?”

“Young enough where you can be, my little baby,” she touched my hand and brought it to her lips, pecking at it. “But it’s okay; we don’t have to do that. I can just… jerk off to my fantasies.”

Her fantasies were seductive and captivating in a dirty way. But I couldn't say no to her, especially since I wanted to repair her fantasies. I never did any of that, especially when she came into my life. But as I think hard about it, I did want those fantasies. I wanted her to share them with me.

“Okay,” I agreed, smiling. “I want to play with your fantasies as well.”

“Good,” she grins and kisses my lips, pulling me back down until our breasts are pressed against each other. “Thank you, Y/n.”

"You should try eating tootsie rolls," Bucky suggested as he drew the cigarette from his mouth. Smoking cigarettes is something Natasha and Bucky can relate to - it's almost as if they're devoted to it. “Do you have the urge to smoke?”

I shake my head. He smiled, sighing: “Good. I don’t want your dad killing me or something.”

“I don’t think he would,” I answered as I looked at the blue skies above me, not minding the strain in my eyes. “He’s too fond of you.”

"You think so?" he asked, to which I nodded. “That’s nice. I mean, Steve is a nice person. It would be a lot easier for me to marry you then, right?”

Here we go again, I thought to myself. He’ll always bring this up. Marriage, kids, stability, I don’t even want any of it from him. I just want his friendship.

“Guess so.” I'm not sure how else I could respond to him. I was too preoccupied with Natasha and our escape to think clearly. No offense to Bucky, but I'd instead run away with her than marrying him. I wasn't attracted to him initially, even though I thought I was. Poor him, honestly. Why is he still chasing after someone who isn’t even interested?

Bucky sat on the grass and threw his old cigarette in the backyard, hoping he wouldn’t get caught. “We should have a burger, yeah? I’m kind of hungry.”

“We literally just ate an hour ago.”

“Still, I have an appetite.” he patted his stomach and rubbed out, chuckling in the air. Clearly, he wanted my attention. And I did look at him, but it was only brief.

“Come on,” he groans, pulling my arm to help me stand on my two feet. “I know one place where they make the best hamburgers. They only cost like, what, 2 dollars? Which isn’t so bad, yeah?”

“Sure,” I agreed, fishing for money in my shorts pocket. “I probably just need to ask for my allowance–”

“Y/n won’t be free for today.” I turned over my shoulder and saw Natasha standing in front of us with a cigarette in her mouth, her chest heaving as the sun burned our skin.

“Would it be okay if I take her out for lunch, Ms. Natasha?” he asked as he craned his neck. “It won’t be too long. I’ll bring her back as soon as possible.”

She puffs a cigarette in the air as she looks at both of us, but mostly at me, almost persuading me to stay with her, to be with her. But I couldn't do it because I hadn't seen Bucky in five days. It's the least I could do for him. But I also wanted to stay for her, to spend time with her in bed, holding hands as we discussed the possibilities.

Natasha sighed, scratching her nape, and said: “Y/n, you have something to do. Your college application, remember?” I remember telling her that I needed to study for my college applications in case I didn't get in. I wasn't academically gifted, but my father apparently wishes for me to become one - which I can assure you will not happen in a million years.

“I’ll get it done once I’m home.”

“Good,” she said, nodding at Bucky. “You better take care of her because you didn’t do your job the last time I picked her up.”

Bucky was clearly getting irritated. It was his posture and his stare, almost a glare. I wanted to tell him that Natasha was just looking after me, but knowing myself, I didn't want to say too much. He would not be pleased.

He would find it disgusting, for that matter.

“I’ll take care of her this time, Natasha.”

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

"Bucky and I will be leaving," I say as I wrap my hand around his wrist and pull him towards me, silently pleading with him to let go of the situation. “I’ll be home in an hour. I promise, Nat.”

She only nodded and turned and walked back to the house, her back facing me. My heart was breaking down piece by piece. I should not have agreed. I could have simply stayed with her. But I genuinely liked Bucky and considered him a friend. I couldn't give up something so valuable that had been there long before her; I'd turn into a jerk.

“Come on,” he said, placing his arm on my right bicep. “Let’s eat.”

I will have to deal with her once I get back home.

taglist:  @trans-wolf-boi @generousfartdragon @marvelogic @that-one-gay-mosquito @wandanotsosure @madelineleong @kksalexa @karsonromanoff​ @natashaswife4125​ @florojas​ @natashaxwife​ 

THOUGHTS ON THIS CHAPTER? <3

[otpcutie]

Starshine (1k)

Summary (Stucky, M): Bucky takes care of his kitten after they’ve played.

Contains: Omegaverse, D/s, Alpha/Daddy Bucky, Omega/kitten Steve, beefy sub Steve, kitten play, fluff, aftercare, nonbinary Steve, Steve uses it/its pronouns (more on AO3)

@buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer, Week 12: “Who’s my __?” / @lgbtqbingo fill: nonbinary Omega / @afgomegaversebingo fill: roleplay / @mcukinkbingo fill: character enjoys being bitten / @badthingshappenbingo fill: bruises / @allcapsbingo fill: non-traditional Alpha traits / @buckybarnesbingo fill: kink: aftercare / @stuckyversebingo fill: Alpha Bucky / @cabottombingo fill: kink: power exchange

Preview below:

A low, pleased rumble emitted from Bucky’s chest as he nuzzled the curve of Steve’s neck. His senses were flooded with each breath in.

The room smelled of his Omega, his kitten—the light of Bucky’s life—all happy and loved and sated. Their scents had mingled together, making the floraly sweetness even more comforting and special.

Steve smelled like home.

Bucky smiled against its mating bite and brushed his fingers through Steve’s hair, “You were s’good for me, kitten. My sweet, perfect Omega.”

♥︎ Continue on AO3 ♥︎ My Masterlist ♥︎

[frostironfudge]

Petal and The Baby's Breath - Steve Rogers

Summary: For Week 4 of @the-slumberparty's Across The Universe Challenge I came up with Florist!Steve and Tattoo Artist!Bucky now I couldn't pick between either one so I've created an AU for the two of them with separate nicknamed female!readers. It's going to be Steve x Petal and Bucky x Cupcake. This is the second part of the multipart AU called Stencils, Bouquets & Icing.

A.N.: A big thank you to Navy and Roo for inspiring me to come up with an unexplored by me AU 💖💖💖💖💖

Warnings: fluff, some innuendos, slight angst, feels

Word Count: 2.2k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Stencils, Bouquets & Icing AU Masterlist || Main Masterlist

The neon sign flickers in the peripheral. Then stabilises, it reads ‘open’ with the O being shaped into a flower petal. 

Steve smiles at the sign, he absolutely adored it. The keys jiggle when he places them back against his hip. Scent of flowers greet him on his way to the cash register. 

Setting up for the day before he grabs the bucket and mop to clean up. A few appointments scheduled and three pickups. 

It would be comical at some point seeing a man of his structure, tall and muscled working on flowers. After the years he’s had Steve admires how delicate he can be with his calloused hands. 

The workstation is prepped and he brings in the flowers for the first heart shaped box arrangement. Lilies and daisies were requested. Along with a a scanned handwritten note placed onto the box. 

Steve’s humming is interrupted by the bell. 

“I'm along the aisle with the pink flowers at the front!” He calls out not looking away from the placement. 

Footsteps traverse along then a throat clears, his eyes meet ones that are trained on the box. You look up at him. His breath catches in the slightest. 

A smile takes over his features but you don’t reciprocate but his doesn’t falter. 

“Hi.” He greets. 

“Are you, Steve?” You ask, gesturing towards him. 

He watches your sleeve ride up and lines start at your wrist moving upwards, “I am, yeah.” 

“Bucky Barnes sent me. He wants his arrangement?” You inform and he nods, humming as he moves to the side out of view behind the floral divider. 

A few things move around, Steve’s hidden behind a large arrangement of sunflowers and baby’s breath.

“Will you be able to carry it? It's a glass vase. I told the punk to come and collect it himself.” He lowers it meeting your eyes yet again, it fascinates him how even amongst the dominant colour of them he finds specs of lighter shades. He has the sunlight to thank for that. 

You stare at the man, well Steve. You didn’t expect him to be this beefy man surrounded by flowers. Nor did you expect him to radiate sunshine that he’s surrounded with from the windows. 

When Steve frowns, your thoughts halt, why is the smile gone? 

“Oh um, I just have to take it to the tattoo shop. He said he was running late and you may have to go for some on-site thing? I don’t know… seemed very preoccupied.” You reason, shrugging, reaching for the vase. 

Steve’s hands are brushed by yours as the exchange happens. You take a deep inhale feeling the full weight. 

“The shops just down the road, I can—,”

“No, I can do it. Shop has automated doors and Dum Dum’s inside and yeah.” You cut him off. 

Steve purses his lips but then offers you a smile yet again, how the fuck is the room brightening the fuck up?

Your heart beats rapidly when he steps closer, something tells you it's not just because of the heavy vase. 

“Alright well, I’ll open my door, it's not automated.” Steve wants to smack himself. Of Course you know that. You entered the shop. 

“Thanks.” You nod, turning around and trying not to drop the arrangement. 

“You’re the new apprentice, right?” He asks, as he opens the door. 

You carefully step down, but your footing falters, Steve’s arm wraps around your waist. He steadies you. 

“Y-yeah. Thanks um, for yeah.” You stammer out. 

“No worries, you sure you can carry it, petal?” 

“My name isn’t, I’m Y/N—,” You pause when he looks at your head. 

“No, I um,” he reaches forth and plucks out the sunflower petal from the top of your head. 

“Right.” You nod, swallowing. You turn trying to speed walk back to the safety of the tattoo shop. 

Steve watches as you cross the abandoned shop between his and Bucky’s units. Till you head into the shop. He turns, heading back to the heart shaped bouquet he had to finish in an hour. 

He makes a mental note to pop by Bucky’s a little more often than he usually does, preferably when the brunette is off to his daily fixing of cake and coffee. 

Bucky walks over to you after a few days empty vase in hand.

You raise a brow. 

“Steve will come by later to collect it, I have the back tattoo client so I won’t be out.” 

“Did she like it?” You enquire while setting the newer designed vase to the floor so it doesn’t get knocked over. 

Bucky grins, then bites his lip as if to stop his happiness. 

On instint your eyes move towards the window that harboured the view to Cherry On Icing, “You have it bad, Boss.” 

He only dreamily sighs in response, “She loved them.” 

“He does, if only he would spit it out to her.” Dum Dum agrees from his station. 

Bucky shakes his head, “Old man you still look at your wife with the same loved up look from the wedding photograph. What are you teasing me for?” 

“What can I say? She’s still the fierce and stunning lady I fell in love with in my younger days.” He turns and regards you with a look that has you flounder. 

“Your generation doesn’t want to speak up at all about the way they feel. Just pine pine pine.” He continues to grumble. 

You look away, fingers drumming along the edge of the counter. Your gaze moves to Bucky. He looks down at his palms, gloves on. 

“Sometimes all we can do is pine.” He mutters before heading into the back area. 

A few hours later you look up from the design you were sketching for an upcoming consultation just as Steve beams at you from outside. 

“Hey,” Steve finds himself happier seeing you, he hadn’t seen you in a few days and a part of him missed you. 

“Hi.” You look back down at the sketch. 

“That looks good.” He praises. 

“It’s just a rough sketch…” you shrug off the praise. 

He hums in disapproval, you frown. 

“It doesn’t seem to be just a rough sketch.” He adds after noticing your expression. 

“I really want him to like my work, he’s one of few artists who I actually look up to.” You look at Steve, his smile is now softer and more fond for his best friend.

“It took him hard work and practice to get where he is, I’m sure if you have a similar approach towards being a hardworking person, you will succeed.” 

You ponder over his words, raising your non-dominant hand’s sleeve. Pointing out to a small tattoo of a wave inspired by Katsushika Hokusai's Under the Wave off Kanagawa. 

Then you take it higher to show him a similar tattoo that is much more refined than it’s former one, near perfect and the shading work is incredible. 

“I kept the first one too, even if it's shit. Always remember where I started from and this one reminds me of what I can do.” You roll the sleeve down. 

Steve nods, “You’re on the right track, Petal. Maybe one day you can ink me as well.” 

“You have tattoos?” The words leave your mouth with  breathless curiosity. He looks around in search and you recall the vase. 

You bend to retrieve it, Steve smiles yet again. 

“I do. Several by Bucky, Dum Dum and a few collected during travel.” He chuckles when you stare at him, “What the florist can’t have a tattoo? You wound me Petal.” 

The brightness in his eyes tells you he’s only teasing. You shake your head and roll your eyes at him. 

“Well, I’ll be on my way.” He taps the vase and turns away. 

“Bye Steve.” You look back down at the iPad, opening a new blank page to sketch upon. Something about the conversation sparked your creative flow. Maybe you could design something inspired by Steve. 

You wouldn’t share it, maybe just keep it tucked away, label it as Sunshine Man or something in relation to the brightness he brings in whenever he’s around you. 

“You know what?” You look up at him, his blond hair ruffles slightly in the wind as he stands between the door. 

“What?” You ask, ideas spinning in your mind as his neckline dips to the side and you catch the smidge unfamiliar ink on his chest. 

Steve shakes his head; wondering if he’d come off too strong. He needs to give it time, maybe allow you to know each other better. 

“I’ll ask you soon enough.” He waves at you, you do the same as he walks the path back to his shop. 

“Punk.” 

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

“Stupid.”

“Do they always greet each other this way?” You ask Dum Dum. He nods, looking back at the stencil he was sketching.

You look down at your own design, it has been almost a month into being here. You learned alot from Bucky and saw Steve almost daily. He always would make it a point to greet you and smile at you. Today seemed no different as he made his way to your station. 

Small conversations, always complimenting your work. 

Your craft was growing, hands steadier but there were still ways to go, currently you were working on a design to add to your own sleeve that Bucky would ink onto you. 

You wondered why amongst your mostly geometric preference florals began to bloom?

The answer was closer than you had believed, 

“Hi, Petal.” He grins, much to your chagrin the nickname stuck around. 

Your eyes lift to his baby blues and then to the tip of his ear. Standing up you reach for the tiny floret of baby’s breath stuck near his ear. 

A flush spreads across his cheeks as he sputters out a thank you. You twirl the flower between your thumb and index finger, the design completing itself in your mind. 

“Should I start calling you baby’s breath?” You tease, a half smile dancing on your lips. 

“Is that a smile I finally earned?” Steve knows his cheeks are red and your smile only warms his chest further. 

You laugh, “Only if I get to call you with a floral nickname.” 

“It's a bit of a mouthful.” He comments. 

“I prefer to have my mouth full.” You reply and Steve stares at you. 

The entire scenario in his mind shifts, from absolute softness to absolute filth. He leans against the workstation, then further, lips close to your ear. 

“Careful what you ask for Petal, may not be able to take it all.” Steve hears your breathing falter, he smugly grins, “But then again, I think you will take it all won’t you like a good girl?” 

His palm slides forward across your station, you look at his palm, he had placed it upon the cleaning rag that was still sort of wet and now gliding him forward. Shit. 

“Uh oh.” Steve loses his balance, taking you down with him, but he turns you in time to land on top of him. 

You groan as your forehead smacks against his cheekbone. He hisses. 

Dum Dum and Bucky peer over the counter. 

“You alright there?” Your boss enquires and you rub your forehead. 

“Yeah I guess, um.” You look at Steve to make sure he’s okay. 

“Yep, alright.” He smiles at you then winces, “Okay my cheek hurts.” 

“Sorry.” You mumble, carefully moving and he sits up with you. 

With the softest of touches you inspect the blooming redness, “Wait here.” You instruct him, with a pointed look and your index finger touching his jaw. 

“Petal—,” his protest dies when you pretend to cover your ears and walk away to the kitchenette area. 

Bucky chuckles and Steve shoots him a glare. 

Dum Dum rolls his eyes, “Just ask her, you oaf.” He chastises and Steve finds that his palms are very interesting. The older man shakes his head walking away. 

Bucky snickers and Steve shows him the finger that makes him guffaw. 

You eye your boss with curiosity but then as you peer out the window you know he would be rendered speechless in a few moments. 

“Okay now this might feel bad and then good.” You tell him, lightly placing the ice pack to his cheek. Steve winces then sighs as the cold takes away some of the sting. 

The pneumatic hiss has Steve turn his gaze to the door. 

“Watch how Bucky melts.” You whisper adjusting so the both of you have a good view. 

It was the baker and owner from the opposite side of the tattoo shop, her name was something else but you only could remember her as—

“Cupcake?” Bucky’s gaze widens when she enters and he fumbles to fix his hair. 

Steve chuckles and Bucky shoots him a glare. Then grins when he turns back to her. 

“Hi,” She says, holding up a package in her shop’s delivery box, “Um, you never um, cameby I thought you might be busy. I, I know it was just a little delay but—,”

“Oh no, I was on the way but Steve here fell for—with Y/N.” Bucky explains and your brows furrow at his slip up, turning to the man in question. 

“I um,” Steve’s hand covers yours. 

“Got your mouth full, baby’s breath?” You tease. 

“Plan to keep you full.” He counters, he notes how your pupils dilate, “However,”

Your chest deflates, maybe you shouldn’t have developed the crush on the sweet florist next door. 

“I’d like to take you on a date first.” Steve grins and you reward him with one of your gorgeous smiles. 

“I’d love that very, very much.” 

[tisfan]

The Fall of Hydra

for @hawkguyz and @beefybuckyswap

Stanza

Bucky was the third hatched child of Medusa, the only surviving boy, and half-god, half gorgon. Despite that, he was born with a very human-style body, strong and fit. He was beautiful, even in the moment of his hatching, and he only grew more glorious as he aged. But he aged very slowly; he was not immortal, but the ichor of the gods flowed in his veins, and he was near enough.

He’d been hatched from an egg formed of adamantium, the silver metal of the gods, the son of the Gorgon Medusa and the god of the sea, Poseidon. He was the only son that lived; of the initial clutch, his mom had obtained four daughters and several sons who took one look at Mom and turned to stone. Bucky, on the other hand, with his stone-gray eyes, had been immune to the gorgon’s stare and thus was able to enjoy his mother’s beauty and the stupid faces his sisters pulled from time to time without any harm.

When Bucky got older, he’d gathered those tiny, pathetic statues and laid them to rest on the far side of the cavern. After Athena had gone all bugnuts on Mom -- something about Poseidon and Athena’s temple, Bucky never really paid attention because the thought of someone fucking his mom and then abandoning her never failed to piss him off -- they’d moved into the caves below the sea and had as little to do with the topside world as possible.

His sisters were all different from Bucky. The youngest two were like Medusa; beautiful, with the crowing glory of snakes instead of hair. The older two had tails like great fish, and they swam out in the ocean to hunt down fish and gather delicacies from the shore. All of them had the same deadly gaze. One day, his oldest sister, Keto, saved a ship of humans from drowning, but in the process, accidentally turned the king’s son to stone. The men geared up, hunted her down, and cut off her head.

Years after that, the second oldest found a way to control her gaze; she made glasses from polished crystal and so long as she never took them off, she was safe. She met a man from the surface who claimed to love her, and she went to him as wife. But after some years of laying with him as his wife and bearing him several children (who were human enough, although two of the girls has gills like fish, and the other two had the same stone-gray eyes as their uncle) the man snatched the glasses off her face, wanting to see what secrets she hid in her eyes.

Bucky’s sister returned home, widowed, with her children and vowed never to set foot on the surface again.

(mobile readers, ware the readmore, or you can check it out on Ao3)

Pepper, the other fish-tailed gorgon, was Bucky’s constant companion. He could not swim as well as she could, but he could hold his breath for a powerful amount of time, and he hunted with her as he grew older.

He learned to throw a spear, to fight the great beasts that lurked under the waves -- especially the terrible hydra that bit and clawed and chewed and gained another head, each time one was cut off. Hydra was a terrible enemy, and one that Bucky and Pepper went out of their way to avoid whenever possible.

Bucky grew fond of these excursions out into the greater ocean, and was delighted by the chance to collect sea-smoothed stones and pretty shells. His sister led him to the shipwrecks and they enjoyed taking the human things and bringing them home. Except for mirrors; Bucky always went first, to make certain that there were no reflective surfaces that might harm his sister, before they explored.

Even with the best intentions and the most care, Bucky and Pepper accidentally woke the Hydra, drawing its attention as they raced and cavorted beneath the waves, and they smelled just good enough to the beast that it decided it was hungry.

The beast had chased them, one time, nearly to shore, before Bucky distracted it by gutting open an enormous sturgeon as they swam past and Hydra had stopped to feed. The stupid thing was well sated, but Bucky and Pepper lingered near the shallows for quite some time, terrified to go home, worried to cross Hydra’s path again. They rested on the rocks and watched the shore, their demi-god eyes keener than humans, and therefore, they could see much further. It was safe for them to observe, knowing that from a distance, the humans would see only sealions basking.

It was there that Bucky first discovered men.

Truth, he’d been the only man he’d ever known. His father certainly didn’t come to them, and although Medusa had described the god to her children, Bucky had never been able to picture anything like it. For reasons of safety, gorgons did not have mirrors in their home, and Bucky had never seen himself. He knew he was different from his sisters in the shape of his body, but that was nothing surprising; he had neither gills nor fins, not snakes in his hair.

But from the first day he saw the blonde boy at the ocean’s shore, Bucky had known something else entirely.

Love.

The boy was beautiful, and like all beautiful things, Bucky had the immediate desire to collect him and take him home.

The first months, Bucky only looked. Pepper was horrified at the idea of him exposing himself to humans; she had learned to hate them with the death of their two sisters, and Bucky couldn’t blame her, but at the same time… he wanted. And Bucky had never known want before.

Pepper tried to drag him away, to prevent him from coming to the rocks and watching, but Bucky grew into manhood and he was faster than she. And she was timid; she would never come closer than the rocks, and so Bucky made his way to the shore, to watch behind the seagrass there.

He learned that Steve was the son of Sarah, a human woman with a bad cough, and that her husband had been a soldier, lost in war.

War was a concept that Bucky had not learned before, and he lingered near the hut sometimes at night, to listen to Sara tell stories to the boy, between the choking rasp of her cough.

After some time, it occurred to Bucky that Steve and Sarah did not have enough food, and Bucky started collecting for them, as well as for his sisters. He brought gifts of raw oysters and left them outside the door. He slew the enormous sturgeons and cut half the flank to leave for the mother and son. The sea was generous and he was a son of Poseidon.

And so it came to pass that Steve waited at the door one night, to see who their benefactor was, and that was the beginning of the story.

Dactylic Hexameter

When Steve had been born, the signs and portents were all aligned that here was the birth of a hero. Joseph, a simple soldier, had made the trek to Delphi, to meet with the Pythia. He paid the sum of gold due as a supplicant and bathed in the spring waters to purify himself.

The Pythia, clothed in a purple robe, was a maiden of only some sixteen years, and she spoke not heralds of glory, but of doom.

The child would, someday, become a hero and rid the world of a great evil, but only if one who went to his aid would be sore wounded and lose a part of himself forever. If the sacrifice did not come to pass, the child would die in obscurity and the line would end with him.

Word spread, rumor traveled faster than horses, and by the time Steve’s father returned to their small village, the entire township had turned against them. No one wanted to lose a great part of themselves, no one wanted to be mistaken for that person in the prophecy, and thus, they were exiled to a tiny hut on the sands.

Joseph was bitter and angry. After so much gold and time, the family was near to starving, and the child was ill and small, not hero material at all. The soldier gave himself over to the solace of drink and blaming his wife for her ill-conceived child. In the end, Steve’s father decided that the child was not his, and abandoned the family for the glories of war. He died in the first battle, not even from an enemy strike, but from being crushed accidentally under a supply wagon.

The child and the mother suffered many hardships, but one spring day, they received a gift of food, bounty from the ocean. Steve brought the food inside and helped his mother to cook and prepare it for storage, and then they ate their fill and Steve knew what it was to not be hungry for the first time in his short, child’s life.

And so many moons passed until one fair night, the land bathed in endless moonlight, that Steve laid a trap for their benefactor, not from maliciousness, but so that he could be thanked as he deserved.

When Steve reached out from his place behind the laurel tree, he grabbed the stranger’s wrist.

“Wait,” he cried, “don’t go!”

And found himself face to face with a beautiful boy; dark hair and stone-gray eyes, with a perfect bow of a mouth and skin like golden silk.

“I only wanted to thank you,” Steve said.

The boy touched Steve’s face, traced the line of his cheek. “Thank me, then, with a kiss.”

And that is where our story begins.

Stichomythia

From that moment forward, the boys were nigh inseparable. Bucky returned to the sea to hunt, to bring food to his mother and sisters, and then he was on the shore ahead, hand in hand with his friend.

As time passed, the boys, as boys always do, grew into men. Bucky was tall and strong, his body taking on the dimensions of the child of Poseidon, muscular arms and broad-chested. And at his side, the tiny, golden Steve, was noble of spirit and quick of mind. Together, they faced the world and won it.

Until there came the Hydra. A creature that could live both in the ocean and on land, the Hydra was one of the monsters of Tartarus, evil and cruel. The Hydra delighted in not just hunting and killing, but it also played with its food, relishing each cry of pain and taking great glee in leaving part of a family group intact to mourn.

Thus it was when it happened across Steve. The Hydra knew that the child of Poseidon loved the blonde man, and knew also that Bucky was one of the few creatures that had ever escaped the Hydra’s grasp.

So the beast plotted and planned, and in its evil heart, a strategy for both feeding it (and the young that it hoped one day to hatch, egg upon egg as far as the eye could see in its frozen and desolate home) and for destroying the child of Medusa in repayment for that long ago humiliation.

The Hydra knew that the man, Steve, was pure of heart, and despite those who had cast him out, he burned full of righteous fury. The man, with little strength or stamina, could not let an evil pass unchecked, and it was in this manner that the Hydra drew him out.

It was, after all, a monstrous beast. It severed heads and sent them to walk as men in the world of mortals. Some were sent to hurt and harm, others were sent to promise aid to one hero brave enough to face the monsters, brave enough to risk it all.

Steve, hearing about the great wonders a prophet of the gods could deliver, snuck away. He knew that Bucky would never let him take the risk, and while he desperately loved his friend, Steve also desperately needed to prove himself. He journeyed to the temple of Ares where Erskine was, and asked for help. But because Steve was also honest, he told Erskine of the doom that had been set upon him. Back in its lair, the Hydra rejoiced and knew exactly what to make of this information. Hydra set another one of its heads to the temple of Ares.

Erskine promised Steve that he was willing to help, no matter the sacrifice, because Steve was a good man, and his magic amplifies everything inside, so good becomes great; bad becomes worse. He claims this is why Steve was chosen. Because the strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion. Steve consented to the magic and drank the wine that Erskine provided. He slept overnight in the bower and woke strong, dexterous and bursting with energy.

Steve exited the leafy circle, blessed by the gods, to tell Erskine of the success and discovered nothing but a body. Erskine had been slain, and when Steve asked, he was told that the great Hydra had killed Erskine. He learned that the Hydra was vast and dangerous, and that when one head was cut off, two more grew in its place. Only the bravest and the strongest could defeat the Hydra.

Steve believed, now, that the curse of the gods was lifted, that Erskine had dared to help him, and in return, had lost everything. Grieving for the man he believed was his friend, Steve returned to the cottage where his mother lived to find that she, too, had been destroyed by the Hydra. Bucky was there, cradling the body, and grieving for his friend’s pain.

Steve was filled with a great rage against the Hydra and would have set off that moment to destroy the beast. Bucky put a hand out to him and pleaded with him to stay, to bury his parent, and to wait for Bucky.

“I can do it on my own,” Steve said, his rage great enough to squeeze his heart.

“Yeah, but the thing is, you don’t have to,” Bucky said, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Because I’m with you til the end.”

The two men put Sarah to rest, and then armed themselves for the battle to come.

To aid Steve, Bucky braided a lock of his hair, tied it around Steve’s wrist, that the mortal could breathe in the ocean as well as on land. “It will protect you,” Bucky said, and kissed the soft skin of Steve’s palm.

They ventured into the ocean, with Bucky leading the way. They stopped, briefly, by the gorgon’s cave, where Bucky had grown up. Steve was forced to blindfold himself that Medusa and Bucky’s sisters would not turn to stone, but he did so gladly, and Medusa allowed the young man to touch her face that he might recognize her again, and her snakes wrapped around his wrists and smelled him and knew who he was.

Medusa gave her son her blessing, and more than that, she passed along to Steve the enchanted shield of the mortal, Perseus, who had attempted to use its highly reflective surface to slay Medusa and her daughters. He had failed and Pepper had painted the shield over, so that the magical protection could remain, but that it would never harm anyone. Steve took up the shield with gratitude and kissed Medusa’s hand in thanks.

Steve and Bucky were kissed each by Medusa and Bucky’s sisters, and then they ventured out into the deep sea, to find the Hydra. On their way to the Hydra’s lair, their adventures were great and mighty. They faced many trials and hardships, but eventually came to face the great beast.

Tragodia 

To one side of the Hydra’s lair were the gates of Tartarus, bold and made of copper, stained green and covered with barnacles. The gates hung open, just a little, just enough for one soul to pass through. Behind those gates was madness, despair, and chaos. Steve shuddered and dragged Bucky past as fast as he could, even if Bucky could not help but stare back at the gates that stood, alone on the ocean floor, and the only way to get to Tartarus was through the gates that lead to nowhere. Exactly how chaos should be, Bucky felt. It was right, deep in his soul, the rightness of the gates. 

The chorus would eventually sing of the two young heroes who braved the Hydra's lair, and they would tell how dark the cavern was, under the ocean, the air stale and hot and foul, and they would tell of the bones of men that littered the blood-stained sands. They would tell of the eternal darkness and the sound of their breath, matching up, as they moved through the cave. 

What they wouldn’t tell of, because no one would ever know, was how terrified they were. Their hands linked together in the darkness and they each felt bracer for the presence of the other. Stronger, for the presence of the other. 

The Hydra was stealthy, faster than something that size should have been, and the first warning they had of its approach was that it neatly tore a strip out of Steve’s back with one razor claw. 

They couldn’t fight in the darkness, and Bucky found himself praying to Poseidon for the first time in his young life that his father would give them aid. And from the stones and the sea came a gentle glow, the bioluminescence of hundreds of tiny sea creatures, that the men not face their deaths in the darkness. 

The Hydra towered over them, rage and scale and snapping teeth. Hundreds of heads lunged at them, tangled together in knots with their necks. There was nowhere to run that several of the heads would not follow them, and it was only because there were so many heads that the two survived for more than a few moments. One belly of the beast, but hundreds of heads arguing for the privilege of being the one to bite. 

Steve swung his shield to great effect, knocking back the heads and stunning them, while Bucky engaged the main trunk of the beast; the heads were useless, but Bucky used spears to pierce the body and make it bleed. The stupid thing was so senseless that some of the heads, scenting blood, bit and tore at the wounds, making them worse. They were winning. They were winning. 

Bucky slipped closer to the beast, hand on a dagger, with the intent to find the beast’s heart and cut it out, when a head, sensing movement, lowered and snapped at the blade. Bucky’s arm slipped between the massive jaws and when the head bit down, his arm was torn clear off. 

His screams echoed in the cavern. 

“Bucky! No!” Steve charged in, shield wild, driving the creature. The Hydra attempted to retreat, with Steve close behind, brutal in his rage. The beast retreated, and Steve found himself outside the Hydra’s lair, forcing it back, toward the gates of Tartarus. 

Bucky slowly got to his feet, clutching the stump where his arm used to be. He staggered out of the cavern, clutching his last spear in his remaining hand. 

The Hydra was forced into the doorway, but resisted, tangling its heads around the great columns that supported the gate. Steve methodically bashed them. When two alone remained, Bucky was close enough. He threw his spear, piercing the last head and cutting it loose from its grip. The final head grabbed at Steve and dragged him toward Tartarus. 

“Steve!” Bucky ran, fast as he could, but he was too late. A mortal crossed over the divide between the earth and Tartarus, freezing him solid in an instant. 

Bucky dragged Steve from the depths of Tartarus, frozen and stiff as the statues his mother formed with her gaze and pushed the gates until they closed. He slumped to the ocean floor, blood still leaking from his wounds, his friend lifeless in his arm. 

“Til the end,” he said, softly, stroking Steve’s hair from his face. He closed his eyes. 

Eromenos

That his beloved son would not perish, Poseidon sent to them a great sea turtle to carry them on their way. He roused his daughter, Pepper, and had her meet the heroes, carrying the remains of Bucky’s egg with her, the strange metals that formed it carried in a sack over her shoulder. 

When Bucky woke, he found a strange metal arm where his hand used to be, shiny and strong. “What is this?” 

The man in the room, dark haired, and impossibly fair of face, turned to him. “Hey there, Venus de Milo,” the man said. “I’m Tony, son of Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Which is why I am infinitely clever and fabulously good looking to boot. Good genes, my friend. So, how are you feeling? Arm working okay? That’s good, that’s good. By the way, do you think your mom would mind if I married your sister, because one, she is smokin’ hot and two, she’s really quite clever, and three, did I mention she’s hot?” 

Bucky raised the metal arm to stare at it, admiring the sleek movements and the easy flexibility. 

“Where is Steve?” 

“The Iceman cometh,” Tony said, solemnly, then grinned with a Hades-may-care twinkle in his eye. “He’s thawing by the forge. Should be good as new in a day or so.” 

Tony walked over, grabbed Bucky’s metal wrist and started pulling the arm through various testing exercises, which had Bucky gritting his teeth as he adjusted to the new limb and the weird humming sounds it made. 

Pepper entered the room, carrying a tray of food for her brother and a bottle of wine for Tony. “Face it,” Tony said, as Pepper stared at him, “this is not the weirdest thing you will ever walk in on me doing. Ah, wine! Fantastic. You are a blessing and a goddess, my dear.” He kissed her cheek and took the bottle of wine from her hand. 

Pepper rolled her eyes and gave Tony the brush-off, but Bucky could tell, there was something special in her smile for him. “I don’t have time for your insincere flatter today,” she said. 

“Excuse you, my flattery is always sincere,” Tony said. “You are the light of my life, the apple of my eye, the -- ooh, look, cheese!” And Tony started snitching things off Bucky’s breakfast tray. 

“Sir,” a disembodied voice said, and Bucky jerked back, staring around. There was no one there. 

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Tony said, “that’s just my Peitharchia spirit; I call him Jarvis. He’s kinda a servant slash reminder slash watchdog slash nag slash best friend --” 

“Enough, Tony,” Pepper said, covering his mouth with her fingers. 

Tony kissed Pepper’s fingers, then said, “What’s up, J?” 

“You wished to be told when the other young man was feeling better, sir,” Jarvis said. 

“Oh, ding ding, microwave dinner’s done!” Tony exclaimed, clapping his hands together once. “Shall I take you to him?” 

Bucky was already out of the bed, feet on the floor, by the time Tony finished talking, and a moment later was being shown into another room, near the force, where Steve was sitting on a bench, soaking wet and shivering. 

Bucky ran to him, snatching up a blanket to wrap it around Steve’s shoulders and stop the shaking. “Steve!” 

Steve made an enormous effort and raised his head. “Bucky?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, drawing his friend, his love, into his arms, one hot flesh, the other cool metal, and resting that fair head against his chest. “It’s me, pal. You’re alive, you’re here, you’re safe.” 

“Til the end, pal,” Steve said. He twined his fingers with Bucky’s and they sat there, in perfect harmony. “I love you.” 

#beefybuckyexchange17

[evildeen]

Yeah, you probably shouldn't have said that. Because now I have a hilarious idea involved apology burnt grilled cheese [or something like that.]. And some angst and smut to round it off. Good thing I'm at work tomorrow and have time to do some outlining. And I probably will write the other one late that you indirectly inspired.

OOOHHH YES!! I am so excited! Happy writing and feel free to jump in if you have any more questions or anything

[3aminfandomland]

Hi again! I do NSFW stuff but I haven't written bottom!Bucky before. I'm thinking Steve/Bucky with bottom!beefy!Bucky, what do you think? Any more sort of details you would be interested in? :)

THAT SOUNDS PERFECT! Um um um Steve teasing Bucky a little would be nice and Bucky being a very vocal bottom! is just my favorite (begging, whining etc) :33333

[jadedvibes]

Marked

Summary: Your secret relationship is nearly exposed when Natasha spots Bucky's neck covered in hickeys.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough sex, lots of hickeys, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, very minor angst, protective natasha, avengers tower au, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.3k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Hey babe, I’m really sorry,” Nat sat down beside you on the couch, looking at you with a sad smile. 

You furrowed your brows, trying to process her words. What did she have to be sorry for?

“Um, why?” 

“Because of you-know-who,” she subtly nodded her head towards Bucky chatting with Sam in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Sam had said, and despite the fact that he was wearing a hoodie, the hickeys on his neck were still visible. She knew you couldn’t miss those prominent love bites. 

Nat was well aware of the giant crush you had on the dark-haired supersoldier, and she also thought that those feelings were requited. Bucky had seemed entirely enamored by you ever since you joined the team. She couldn’t believe he would do that, especially because everyone including him knew how you felt. You must have felt terrible about the whole situation.

“Oh,” biting your lip, you willed yourself not to react. Nat could read you like a book and you didn’t want her to know about the sordid details of this chapter. Not yet at least. “He’s a grown up, and he can do whatever he wants,” you stood up in haste, giving her a nod before walking back to your room. 

She missed the wink Bucky shot you, and the way you smiled at the ground as you left. 

Bucky assured you that the marks would heal fast, giving you free rein to do whatever you wanted to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. 

“What the hell?” Nat muttered under her breath. She figured his actions must have hurt you so much that you couldn’t even properly react to it. Deciding to confront the man himself, she stormed into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Sam. 

She glared at Bucky as he finished up his story, catching the eyes of both men. Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, neither having any idea why she was staring like that. 

Bucky grinned at Nat cautiously, “What’s up?” 

“She was literally in the room, and you couldn’t think to maybe pull your hood on, or wear a scarf?”

“Nat,” he tried to think of an explanation, but the truth wasn’t his to tell. You asked him not to. “It’s no big deal,” he lied. 

His time with you was everything, and he couldn’t fight the flashback his brain had of you in his lap the night before sucking and biting his neck as you rode him. If only Nat could see the state of your chest and the marks that you had thanks to him, she’d know there were no hurt feelings. 

Sam watched on, trying to keep his face neutral because he already knew about the two of you. He’d seen Bucky slip out of your room a few mornings ago, however he respected your privacy and kept your secret. Although, he had no problem teasing Bucky about it when you weren’t around. 

“Live your life, but you could be more respectful of her feelings,” she said before standing up and leaving. 

Bucky pursed his lips as he looked at Sam. 

“Should’ve covered it up, man,” Sam smirked. 

Nodding his head, “Yeah, for her sake.”

“What are you guys waiting for?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m letting her set the pace, it’s up to her.” 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cried out as his powerful hips snapped into you at a relentless pace. The sheer look of pleasure and determination on his face made you shudder as you watched him take you apart. Your legs wrapped around his waist, an impulse for more; to be closer, to be consumed. 

Metal fingers began to circle your clit, making your body contract beneath him. 

“Oh baby,” you whimpered. He fucked you like a god, a self-assured divine being. 

Bucky smirked, “Do you like that?” His fingers continued their sweet torture as he took what he needed. With each fierce thrust he brought you closer, to your end, to his soul. 

Unable to speak, you watched your perfect man lose himself inside of you. 

It hit like lightning striking your body, electrifying every nerve with blissful euphoria. You threw your head back as you heard your pulse ring in your ears, wet walls squeezing tight around his cock. 

Unable to think, simply feeling the sensory overload. 

He groaned out your name as his hips stuttered erratically. Pushing impossibly deeper, he came hard. Shuddering his release, pumping himself empty inside his favorite place. 

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly before turning you on your side as he stayed nestled inside of you. 

Dark blue eyes connected with yours, his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. 

Tangling your hands into his hair, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. Tongue sliding between his parted lips, chest pressed against his, close. 

This was where you were supposed to be. 

Bucky pulled back and playfully started peppering your face with kisses. Down your jawline, all over your cheeks, on your nose, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. 

“Bucky!” you tried to grab his face. But he wouldn’t relent, gripping the back of your neck, kissing you until you were squealing in laughter. 

He loved that sound, he adored seeing you so happy. How Nat could ever think that he’d go for any other girl was not something he could comprehend. Bucky only had eyes for you. 

“Doll,” he kissed your lips before letting you catch your breath. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to know. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean?” you whispered. 

“Why are we hiding this?” 

You sighed. “Because I want this to be our thing for a while longer, we’re having fun aren’t we?” you grinned, not understanding his concern. 

“Of course we are, but… this is more than just fun for me,” his eyes searched yours. 

Oh this sweet, soft man. 

“Then we’ll tell the team, we can tell anyone you want.” 

“Really?” he beamed. 

“Yes, really. It’s more for me too, I don’t want you to think for a moment that it isn’t. I didn’t want anyone casting doubts on us – but I’m sure about you, so it’s okay.” 

“Thank you, I can only take so much mad-dogging from Nat,” he breathed a sigh of relief. Although, his true solace came from the knowledge that the feeling in his heart was reciprocated – he was damn well certain about you too. 

“Right, because that’s your thing, isn’t it tough guy?” you teased. His penchant for staring often intimidated others, but you knew the kind-hearted man under the hard exterior. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, rolling you on top of him in one swift movement. His hardened length still inside of you told you that the time for talking had ended. Your hands fell onto his strong, broad chest as you held yourself up, ready to take him for a ride. 

His fiery gaze landed on your breasts, the heat from his stare capable of scorching the earth. He ran his warm fingers over the fading marks he’d left from the night before, admiring them. 

Desire flooded your body and when your eyes locked, an idea came to your mind. “Why don’t you bite my neck?” you raised an eyebrow. 

He sat up, the offer one he wasn’t willing to pass. Bucky trailed his lips along your jaw, nibbling his way down until he whispered, “Only if you promise to bite me back,” he licked up your neck. 

With a racing heart, you circled your hips before grinding down on him. “Deal.” 

There was no point in concealing this connection that meant so much to the both of you. And as his teeth bit down on your skin, a rush of arousal ran through you. The sting of his possession, the way he felt so deep inside you; this was it.

The two of you would likely tell your friends the following day about your relationship – or they could just take a look at the matching marks on your necks that let them know exactly who you belonged to. 

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Sunday Worship

Pairing || Beefy!CatholicPriest!Bucky x Inexperienced!Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

Summary || Father James teaches you how to please him.

Word Count || 3160

Contents & Warnings || Slight Angst/Fluff, Smut, Dark/Taboo Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, slight dub-con/non-con, religious themes, blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, biblical references, sexual content involving a catholic priest, strict/religious parents, explicit content/language, age-gap (reader is early 20’s, Bucky is early/mid 30’s), sexual thoughts and acts, pet names (sweet thing/one, baby) oral (male receiving), Father kink, size kink, corruption kink, authority kink, inappropriate/forceful touches, light choking, degrading, spit, cum swallowing, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Priest!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

It was not the same.

He was not the same as last Sunday’s mass.

No special glances or touches from Father James.

Nothing.

It was like all those sinful and secret moments together didn't happen—like they were a part of some distant life that didn't exist anymore.

All throughout the morning, you wanted his attention. Wanted to have his blue eyes, with that touch of darkness, to gaze into your sweet and pure ones. Wanted to have that wicked smile of his show itself to you while he licked his lips. Wanted to have his sinful touches on your delicate skin when no one was watching. But there was none of that—no darkness, no wickedness, no sin.

It was like you were nothing. Just another face in the crowd. Nothing special.

It made you mad, angry, hurt, insecure…

Had you done something wrong?

Were you not as unique as he made you seem to be?

Had he gotten bored of you?

Was there someone else?

All these thoughts ran through your head, and you wanted nothing more than for mass to end and go home to cry in bed silently.

When mass was over, everyone in the community found their way outside to converse with neighbours and friends before all headed their separate ways home.

You and your parents were chatting with the family of one of your closest girlfriends when Father James walked over.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached. Although you were mad at him, your body still intensely yearned for him.

“Sir,” he was referring to your dad, “can I lend your daughter for today?”

Huh?

“Sure, Father. What do you need her for?”

“A lot of things….”

Oh…

“.… but right now, I could really use some help with getting our beloved church in order—cleaning and tidying things up. Would that be ok?”

“Of course, Father. She's all yours….”

You want to be all his for eternity.

“…. I’ll pick her up around four?”

“We will be all done by then.”

Throughout all of their exchange, they never asked for your permission. If this was something you wanted. But you would have said yes if they asked—in a heartbeat. You were too intrigued about what your time alone with Father James would bring again—if his true sinful nature would emerge, or would you be just as disappointed as you'd been all morning.

Alas, it was disappointment when you found yourself alone in the church with him. You'd hoped and prayed that he would pin you between the wall and his muscular frame—exploring your body with his mouth and fingers as you struggled to get free, but there was none of that. He really meant it when he said you would clean the church.

But in the end, it turned out to be quite fun.

Father James put on some fun summer pop songs on an old radio while you worked. Songs that were highly forbidden in your household.

You swept the floor, reordered books and tidied up every nook and cranny of the church.

Although you missed Father James’ devious nature, you loved his warm and cheerful presence as well—his aura shining bright with joy and love.

You talked here and there while cleaning—him getting to know you, and you get to know him. And he was so funny—making you crack up at the jokes he told.

When you weren't talking, the silence was comfortable, not awkward at all. Just letting the music and each other’s calm presence create a pleasant atmosphere.

————

You placed the candle holders that you'd just polished on the altar, humming the tune of the song playing on the radio while vaguely moving your hips. You didn't think much of it since they were both such small gestures, but there was someone that noticed—someone you'd been missing and craving all day.

“My, my…”

A voice of the devil, deep and sinister, whispered in your ear, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His towering presence could be felt behind you.

It was him.

He was back.

A soft moan slipped from your mouth as his breath fanned the side of your face. His lips delicately grace your earlobe.

“... what a beautiful and talented little mouth you have, sweet thing...”

His colossal palm lay flat on your stomach—pulling you flush against his muscular torso, making you gasp out.

“... and what captivating moves you have.”

He started moving his hips, making you follow along with him. And you could feel him while you moved in sync.

“F-Father…”

You were speechless as he put you in his trance.

“Mmm…”

His other hand wrapped around your neck, applying light pressure before it followed the curve of your neck and chin—making your head arch. His touches made your most precious area beat with your heart.

“I wonder,” his thumb swiped your lips, “what other secret talents this mouth possesses,” he pushed the tip of the digit in your mouth, and you sucked it delicately with no second thought, making him moan.

“I want to find out.” He growled through gritted teeth.

In a flash, you were turned around in his grasp. His solid and large body pinned your smaller one against the altar while his face was inches from yours.

Was he going to kiss you? Was that what he meant by finding out?

You wanted him to grab your face and press his lips against yours. Wanted to feel his tongue move against yours as you tasted one another. You even craned your neck slightly to the side to show him you were ready.

But it didn't seem like that was happening.

“I want you on your knees….”

“Huh?”

“…. get on your knees, sweet little girl.”

Obeying his demands, slowly, while keeping his gaze, you descended to the floor until your knees lay on the cold hardwood, hands in your lap. You peer up at him through your lashes with your pure eyes, head slightly tilted to the side.

His hand caressed the side of your face while his thumb swiped your lips once more, making him lick his own.

“You're so pretty like this. So submissive to me and my every need. So submissive to please the Lord and me. Do you want to please the Lord, sweet thing…?”

You nod.

“.… do you want to please me?”

You nod again, more profound this time.

You want nothing more than to please Father James—for him to use you for his pleasure and make him feel as good as he made you feel last time.

“Please me, and you will please the Lord, sweet one.”

He pushed his whole thumb in your mouth, and you sucked it—hollowing your cheeks as you did, bobbing your head.

“Push your tits together, sweet thing.”

You pushed your upper arms into your chest, squeezing your breasts together, creating that stripe of cleavage he wanted.

He groaned at seeing you on your knees for him—so pretty and submissive for his every command.

His other hand palmed himself over the black pants—the dent in them becoming more visible the more he touched himself.

Those sinful actions of his made you incredible aroused. Your cotton panties became wetter by the second, and your bundle of nerves begged to be touched and stimulated.

“You're making me painfully hard, baby,” he removed his finger from your mouth, both hands on his belt buckle now, “I need to feel your lips wrapped around me.” He started to undo the belt, and the clang of it was like an erotic harmony.

Your lips parted as you looked up at his sinister face—the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin, and his eyes appeared almost black from your position below.

“Stick that pretty little tongue out for me,” he unbuttoned the button and pulled his zipper down, “show me how hungry you are for my cock.”

You stuck your whole tongue out for him while those innocent eyes peered up—begging. Begging for something you weren't even sure what was. You just knew you wanted it— all that he had to offer.

A loud gasp slips from you as he springs to life in front of your very eyes. He's big, much bigger than you remember when you saw it in the confessional—thick and luscious while his balls hung heavy. A thick protruding vein ran along the length.

Although you'd dreamed of it and fantasised about it, having him this close to you, now it was somewhat intimidating and scary—making you retract your head a couple of inches.

“In awe are we now? I know, sweet thing. It's a lot for a little girl like you to handle,” his hand stroked your cheek lovingly, his soft touch a significant contrast to his filthy words, “but I’ll show you how to please a man.”

“F-Father, I-I’m not sure what to do.”

He put his finger at the base of his length, “I want you to lick from here,” and then slowly dragged his finger upwards—till the tip, “to here.”

“O-ok.”

You slowly leaned forward, tongue poked out, and when your wet surface came in contact with him, it was like an instant drug—a strong desire and need to feel more of him. Slowly, you dragged your tongue on his length, coating him in your saliva, making him moan. When you reached the tip, you flicked your tongue on him as the finishing move.

“Oh, baby…”

“W-was that ok, Father.”

“Ok? Sweet girl, it was perfect. You sure you've never done this before?”

“N-never, Father. You're t-the first.”

“And I will be the last. Now,” his hand rested on the back of your head, encouraging you to do it again, “let me feel that pretty tongue again.”

You licked him again, and again, and again, until he was messy and dripping with your saliva.

“So good, baby, now,” he wrapped his fist around himself and jerked his length off, the saliva helping him glide effortlessly, “suck my balls.”

You sucked and licked them as he wanted, closing your eyes as you worked on them.

“Look up at me while you suck them.”

You opened your eyes and looked straight into his ones as you moaned with your mouth full of him.

“Yeah, baby, such a filthy fucking whore you are, huh? You love to suck on them, don't you?”

You nod.

“I’ll give you something more to suck on, sweet thing.”

With his other hand, he pulled you off him, making you let out a whine at the loss of contact—displaying your tongue to show you wanted more.

“Good girl. Already one step ahead. You’re leaning.”

He tapped his heavy cock on your awaiting tongue, making a wet sound each time he made contact. Each tap made you moan at the weight of him. He glided his length on the wet surface while he grunted heavily.

“Wrap your lips around the tip and suck it for me, baby.”

You closed them around him and suckled his tip while your tongue swirled around it, moaning at the taste of him in your mouth.

“Sweet thing, I need to test something. I need to see how far you can take me,” his hand on the back of your head slowly pushed you further on him, “let me know when it becomes too much.”

Slowly, inch by inch, he went into your mouth, making your eyes glossy with tears. You tried so hard to ignore the discomfort, wanting to take as much as possible. But when he was about halfway into your mouth, it became too much. His tip tickled the back of your throat, making you gag around him and your eyes shut tight. The vibrations on his length made him moan out loud, and you saw him shiver above you. His reaction excited you, and you wanted nothing more than to take all of it if that’s what it took to please him. But you couldn't, so you grabbed his leg hard, digging your nails into him, signalling that it was enough—you couldn't anymore, or else you were afraid he’d suffocate you.

“Oh, God, baby, that's so good….”

He pulled himself out, and when you were free of him, you gasped for air while a few tears ran down your cheek.

“An excellent start, baby.”

“I-I'm sorry, Father, that I couldn't take anymore.” Your lips turned down in a frown—sad and worried that you'd disappointed him and the Lord.

“It's ok, sweet girl. With a little practice, you'll be able to take me whole in no time.”

Once again, his hand cradled the side of your face lovingly—reassuring you that everything was alright and that he wasn't mad at you.

“I-I promise I'll be good. T-that I’ll be able to please you and the Lord soon, Father.”

“Oh, I know you will, my sweet little girl. I know you will.” He wrapped his hand around himself, jerking his whole length off. “But just because you can't take all of me in your pretty little mouth doesn't mean you can’t please me. Use your hand and mouth, baby. Use them to please my cock. Make me and the Lord happy.”

That you could do—please his cock with what you'd learned.

You replaced his colossal hand with your smaller one—jerking his enormous length in your grasp from base to tip. You loved the way he felt in your hand. The way he fit so perfectly. You would imprint this image into your brain, the sight in front of you, for later use while you were all alone in your bed at night.

You tapped his pink head on your tongue, moaning out at the sloppy sound it made. “Baby,” he leaned his head back, eyes shut tight, “you're learning so fast.”

While your hand focused on his base, your lips wrapped around his tip and sucked, bobbing your head and moaning around him—sending chills through his nerves.

Little by little, you took him more into your mouth but still kept in mind where your threshold went, not wanting to exceed that for your own comfort. Your other hand accompanied the one already working on him—using them both to jerk his cock.

You looked up at him the entire time—as you'd learned he enjoyed it when you did, gazing into his evil eyes while you with your angel ones. His hand rested at the back of your head, bobbing along with it, giving you slight shoves of encouragement when he saw fit.

His open mouth sang with moans, grunts and cries as you found the perfect rhythm on him. The ideal balance of your mouth and hands to edge him on towards the end.

You were such a drooly, dribbling mess for him while you slurped his cock—saliva running down your chin and coating your hands.

“You're so pretty like this, sweet girl.”

His eyes intensely focused on you—enjoying the erotic show you provided for him.

You were becoming so needy with wanting your own pleasure, so you shut your legs and slowly started to rock back and forth to create friction on your aching bundle of nerves.

“Oh, baby, I'm gonna come.”

He fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you off, which made you whine out at the loss of him. He performed quick sinful, sloppy strokes on himself right in front of your face—his release approaching with every stroke.

“Open your mouth and show me that pretty tongue.”

You did as he wanted.

“I'm gonna come in your mouth whether you want to or not, baby.”

Oh, you wanted it. You’d wanted his seed since you saw it in the confessional not so long ago.

“I want it. Give it to me, Father.”

You wiggled your tongue at him—showing that you needed it so badly.

Heavy grunts echoed through the vast and holy room as he came hard all over your tongue—coating it in thick white ropes of his holy seed. He didn't stop stroking himself until he’d decorated the surface with everything he had—ridding himself of the pleasure.

“Shallow.”

You closed your mouth and swallowed. The thick substance trickled down your throat. It wasn't as bad as you'd thought it be. You showed him your empty mouth, which made him let out a satisfied groan of approval.

His thumb traced your lips to collect more of his seed and your spit that was left behind, pushing the digit in your mouth for you to clean up the mess, making you moan.

“You're such a good girl; you know that?”

You nod your head, batting your eyes at him; he grinned down at you while caressing your jaw with his fingers.

A few seconds later, a car horn could be heard from outside—your dad was here to pick you up.

Panic overrides your senses. You frantically look at the door—worried that he’ll walk in and see the absolute immoral scene that was unfolding at the altar.

“Hey, hey,” Father James tucks himself back into his pants, doing up his pants like they once were, “it’s ok. The door is locked; he can’t get in.”

He offered you his hand, “here,” to help you up. With shaking legs, you pulled yourself up, and once you were standing on your unsteady feet, you collapsed into his chest, and he caught you with his arms.

“Woah! Hey.”

His hands cradled your face, making you look up at him. His once sinister and evil eyes had turned soft and loving—along with his face that displayed a worrisome expression for your wellbeing.

“Are you ok?”

You couldn't do anything else but nod. Your mouth trembled, and you were left completely speechless.

The way he looked at you. The way he was gazing into your eyes and then flicked them to your lips and then back up again made it look like he was going to kiss you. He even tilted his head to the side and slowly leaned in. You braced yourself for it, closing your eyes, but before his lips met yours, there was another honk from outside that interrupted your sweet moment. You averted your gaze to the door again in a panic.

You had to leave. You couldn't stay any longer, or you feared that your dad would get suspicious that something wasn't quite right.

“I-I’m sorry, F-Father,” you backed away from him, “I-I have t-to go.”

You quickly walked to the door, unlocked it, and then checked if everything was in order—that there was no evidence of any mischief on you.

With your hand on the handle, you stood for a few seconds contemplating. Contemplating if you should turn around and take a look at him one last time. But you knew if you did, that you’d most likely sprint into his arms and ask him to take you away—away from this hellhole. So you didn’t… you didn’t look back.

You took a deep breath in and out to compose yourself before you walked out the door…

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

[otpcutie]

Otpcutie’s Captain Bottom Bingo Masterlist — My completed @cabottombingo fills, for round two.

A/N: I completed two fills this round. Beefy sub Steve my beloved💚

1. Starshine (M, 1k) | Square: B4, kink: power exchange

Summary (Stucky): Bucky takes care of his kitten after they’ve played.

Contains: Omegaverse, D/s, Alpha/Daddy Bucky, Omega/kitten Steve, beefy sub Steve, kitten play, fluff, aftercare, nonbinary Steve, Steve uses it/its pronouns (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

2. Burning Bright (M, 0.5k) | Square: free space

Summary (Stony): Steve asks Tony about a new friend of his.

Contains: Nonsexual D/s, puppy play, puppy Steve, Owner/dom Tony, jealousy, reassurance, fluff, affection (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

Card under the cut:

[povlvr]

3. No games, just the truth;

Pairing: Biker Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: An unexpected lunch date with Bucky leads to prying eyes that might burst your bubble.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Fluff, smut-ish but not really, potential angst, but Bucky just being a sap

A/N: I prefer giving my female reader an actual name rather than Y/N. Apologies for the lack of updates work & Christmas has taken up all my focus recently so i've been reading a lot, plus working on another mini series to post alongside this (Not related, think Soft lumberjack Beefy Bucky).

~~~

To say Bucky utilised having your phone number would be an understatement, the texts were almost immediate once you said your good night that Friday, Bucky headed back to the bar to deal with some club business & gave you running commentary about what the guys were saying about you. Of course, he left out the part where they had declared him whipped & in response him jokingly announcing that he would marry you one day, although the others laughed Steve knew he was being sincere.

Each ding of your phone made your heart skip a beat, it hurt to smile as much as you were, but you couldn’t stop yourself even If you tried, you gave into it, gave into the feeling of falling. You didn’t care if it was 2am & your eye lids were threatening sleep, you fought it to keep talking to him, he made you feel 17 again like you could do anything with him, go anywhere.

Despite all his friends being sat around him he hadn’t ever felt such a pull elsewhere, the urge to constantly check his phone was an unfamiliar rollercoaster of feelings that could change in a split second, anticipation when he checked the screen, disappointment when he was met with a message-less phone & then the euphoria when a notification was awaiting him.

He didn’t want to be sat there, he wanted to be in bed with you, lying down & having the conversation in person that was taking place through his phone. It wasn’t the physical side he was pining for, it was everything else, he wanted to hold you whilst you slept, wake up & your face be the first thing he sees, he wanted the feeling that was consuming him whole to never leave his body. You were IT for him, he hadn’t ever felt this before, sure there had been other women in his life but you were making him question if he had ever felt anything for them. He kept asking himself if it was possible to fall in love with someone after one night.

James 💙

Doll, I’ve kept you awake too late. Get some sleep pretty girl. Text me when you’re up.

You fell asleep, didn’t you?

Kinda tired myself tbh, going to head home I think.

Trying not to send too many messages so you don’t wake up to a bunch.

Just wanted to say I loved meeting you tonight, you have no idea what you do to me.

Anyway, if you read this when you’ve woken up I hope you had sweet dreams … all about me.

Also, why haven’t you text me if you’re awake. Huh?? Don’t be cruel to me doll. 😫

That’s the first one of them I have ever sent.

I just googled, they’re called emoijs.

Don’t tell Sam I googled that.

Shit I hope none of these messages wake you up.

Shit, I did it again.

Fuck & again. Ok I’ll go now.

Text me xx

Waking up to so many messages would have usually been a red flag, but somehow from Bucky they were charming & adorable, you laughed & smiled until you’d read them all. All the usual rules seem to have gone out the window, it was refreshing to have the freedom to just text at will to someone, not think if it was too soon or if you were coming across too eager. No games, just the truth;

You were utterly sweet on each other.

You were still riding high on the Bucky Barnes serotonin being kindly administered by him from each message he sent on the way to the office that Monday, who knew a good morning text was all it took for you to be a morning person? The weekend had been filled with non-stop exchanges, the flirting increasing exponentially as well as him letting you know how much trouble he was getting himself into messaging you whilst he was working, but assured you he cold handle Steve’s scolding’s.

You got to know more about him, he told you things he wouldn’t share with other people, dreams of leaving the sleepy town to escape the pitfalls of the cycle the Barnes’ men found themselves in, he found it effortless to let you in, he loved your perspective on it all. You told him more about why you were here, your childhood & your life in New York promising to take him & show him all the pizza places he could dream of after his non-stop pizza related questions.

As you headed through the halls of the beige lifeless office you passed countless nameless faces all filled with the animosity you had been initially greeted with, you quickly found in your line of work that being an outsider tasked with 'fixing' a workplace staff thought was functioning well left you lacking in the work friend department, no one likes change. One face you did recognise smiled at you; Scott Lang, the only acquaintance you had made at the company so far, you couldn’t not like Scott, he was charismatic, funny & had the sweetest daughter in the world, she made a card for you when Scott had told her of your arrival, it was cute as hell.

‘Woah, slow down tiger.’ He called after you as you passed.

‘Morning Scott, did you have a good weekend with Cassy?’

‘Always do, she is so sweet I swear I am going to get cavities hanging around that kid. What’s up with you? You’re practically bouncing through the office, you're glowing & that smile is the first I’ve seen since you got here.’

‘Just had a nice relaxing weekend. I think I’m finally getting into a routine ya know.’

‘Well it suits ya, ya know’

You could tell he wasn’t buying it from the tone of his ‘ya know’ but you just rolled your eyes & headed towards your office.

‘See ya later Scott, any issues just knock.’

Throughout the morning Scott noticed the pings slowly followed by a smile plastered on your face, by lunch you were grinning & he was on the verge of planning a heist to get hold of your phone to see what had got you so happy. Pulling the fire alarm seemed a bit extreme so he was finessing his plan before he would take any action.

Turns out getting a lunch time message to meet Bucky outside your office now made you a person who loved Mondays. Like clock work Scott heard the ping & directed his gaze to your office, he saw the elation on your face, you grabbing your bag & sprinting out the office. He followed you figuring that taking his break at the same time as you & taking the same brisk route out the office seemed a less risky option than stealing your phone.

You spotted Bucky immediately, how could you not? He stood leaning against his bike, despite memorising his face you’d forgotten how stunning he really was to look at, the sparkle in his eyes made every second you had spent apart seem like a punishment. You practically skipped up to him & wrapped your arms around him in a hug, his arms rested on your hips pulling you into his body.

‘Hi’

‘Hi’

At the mere sight of you his shyness consumed him, he wondered how you got him so flustered but he managed to get out of his head when you smiled at him, it was like all the rays of the sun radiated from you. ‘Wow, you look beautiful doll, very professional. I wouldn’t be able to get any work done if I worked with ya.’

‘Just wait til you see me in my glasses, you’d feel my authority & have no choice but to get to work.’

He pulled you closer nuzzling his nose & mouth to your neck ‘Just tell me what you want to do darlin, I’ll do a real thorough job.’

You were giggling at his words, knowing exactly what he was implying, feeling him growing pressed against you. You wondered how it was possible that you could have someone so obviously wrapped around your finger & yet be just as wrapped around theirs. One word & you’d be down on your knees for him without question.

You managed to compose yourself from the heat that was growing in your underwear & pulled your head back to look at him ‘Ok gorgeous, I only have an hour, where we goin’?’

‘If you’re ok with it I thought we could ride out to this place I know, real quiet & no one will bother us.’ He moved some hair out of your face & you leaned into his touch, all you wanted was his lips on yours, you would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed when he leaned towards you reaching behind you for a helmet.

It was a strange feeling to want to rush into something so much yet savour every minute together, the early stages of infatuation shouldn’t be rushed through but the urge to be his everything meant you wanted to skip ahead & just be together, the logical side of you pleading to go slow, to enjoy the feeling of falling, you had the rest of your life for the rest. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about that, you hadn’t even kissed him yet, but you knew there would be no other after James Barnes.

He tucked your hair behind your ears on both sides before carefully placing the helmet on your head, you struggled to keep the grin from your face as he secured the clasp under your chin, checking & double checking it was safe. He paused & stepped back to take a look at you, he had to hold what he was feeling in because he thought you would run if he said it out loud, it was easy to fall this hard when it came to someone like you.

‘What?’ you said though a smile, he was looking at you like there was nothing else to look at in the world.

‘You just look so cute with your face all squished up in the helmet, I want to take a picture, so I can’t forget it.’

‘Well, if you play your cards right you’ll be seeing me like this a lot & you won’t need the picture.’

He almost looked surprised, you didn’t think you could make it more obvious that you were into him, so the loveable goof stood before you & leaned down giving you a kiss on your squished cheek, before moving to the other, then to your forehead & the tip of your nose.

‘I’d like that doll.’ He reached to his helmet hanging from his handlebar. ‘You ok being behind me on the bike? You could always go up front.’

‘No, I’ll be fine, if I squeeze you too tight let me know though.’

Bucky threw one leg over his bike & sat down holding out his hand for you, you managed to hold your balance & not make a tit out of yourself & placed your hands on his hips. Once his helmet was secure he turned on the ignition & the engine roared to life, after a quick check in his mirrors he sped away carrying you both to your lunch date.

Scott watched your exchanges from the lobby of the office wondering how you knew the infamous motorcycle gang leader responsible for terrorising the town & more worryingly why he was kissing you & riding off with you on his bike.

The vibrations of the bike combined with being so close to Bucky had your knickers soaked, before setting off he reached for your hands & pulled them tightly around his waist, the temptation to touch him whilst he was riding had your imagination in overdrive, you were practically grinding on the seat for some relief. Thankfully before you made a fool of yourself by orgasiming having not even been touched Bucky pulled up to a peninsula by the roadside, you hadn’t paid much attention to the journey being on the brink of climax the entire ride so you hadn’t noticed the views. You jumped off the bike once you’d come to a full stop praying you didn’t leave any evidence of your arousal on the seat.

The views were exquisite, land as far as the eye could see, the terrain always looked so dreary to you but from afar you could see the beauty of it, the subtly of the colours dancing around the landscape set against a cloudless expanse of blue sky.

‘Sorry Doll, did I go too fast?’ the worry was plastered on his face, his sweet concerned face. You could just tell him the truth, it was deserted I’m sure he wouldn’t mind fooling around with you, but you managed to compose yourself.

‘No not at all, just hungry plus we don’t have loads of time. Just want to make the most of it.’ He was taking off your helmet as you fed him the half-truth, it wasn’t a lie just a slight omission you reasoned.

‘Glad to hear it Doll, I may have gone a bit OTT at the deli.’ He began taking container after container of food out of the saddlebags he had strapped to his bike. ‘Didn’t know what you’d like so I went for a mix of everything.’

‘You didn’t have to do all this for me.’

He reached out for your hand, stroking your soft skin. ‘It was nothing gorgeous, my best girl hard at work needs a good lunch, plus I eat a lot so it will get eaten darlin’.’

‘Good to know, I enjoy feeding my man.’ You didn’t realise you had said it until the words left your mouth. ‘Shit, sorry I just meant my friends, ya know looking after people that kind of thing.’ Great save Florence, you thought.

Speechless wasn’t something Bucky was often, yes, he was quiet for the most part & explosive when he needed to be but utterly speechless that this amazing woman, this sweet little thing had thought of him as her man & stumbled over herself in the most adorable fashion to cover a faux pas that he didn’t care about. He was her man & she wanted to look after him, he felt on cloud nine.

He pulled you onto his lap, looking so deeply into your eyes you felt as though he was reading into your very soul, ‘Don’t you dare apologise, if I get to call you my girl & you call me your man I’d have to check I hadn’t died & gone to heaven sweetheart.’

Any tension you were feeling melted away in his arms as you giggled against him. ‘let’s not let all this food go to waste honey.’ You nodded & reached for a sandwich, you were astounded by how much Bucky could eat, you were already thinking of dishes you could cook for him & his obvious sweet tooth meant you didn’t have to bug Scott with testing any new cake recipes you were working on. You made a mental note to find your baking equipment buried in the sea of unpacked boxes in your spare room to make Bucky some of your lemon & blueberry loaf cake as a thank you for lunch.

It was perfect, the view, the food, Bucky, you were cursing having to go back to the office because you knew you’d spend all day thinking about him rather than doing your job. Time is a funny thing, if you’re in pain a second can seem to last an entire life time but when you’re floating feeling completely content in your bliss time moves at light speed, so it felt like as soon as you had got there it was time to leave.

‘I really could stay here all day Doll but I’ve kept you long enough, I doubt you can threaten your boss with a beating like I can if you’re late back from lunch.’ he chuckled.

‘No, I don’t think Tony Stark would take well to that but I’m the boss down here so I can reprimand myself another day if I am.’

'I'd be late back every day to be reprimanded in your office doll.' he raised his eyebrows up & down repeatedly with a cheeky smirk plastered on his face.

'That can be arranged Mr Barnes. HR won't have to know about it if you comply to my every demand.' the words rolled out your mouth as you looked at him through your eyelashes. You'd never been so comfortable being this flirtatious with someone before, hell, you'd hire him just to play out the fantasy flashing through your head. You sitting on your desk with the outrageously short skirt you'd worn for him that day hiked up to your waist whilst his face was buried in your pussy until you were cumming on his tongue.

'I'll be sending over my resume later. Can't reprimand me if I don't work there.' It was like he was reading your mind, you really weren't getting any work done this afternoon because you'd be working on the detailed plot of your fantasy in your head.

Reluctantly you rose to your feet & dusted off your trousers whilst Bucky packed away the now empty containers, you actually managed to contain yourself & enjoy the scenery you missed earlier during quick ride back to your office. You loved being on the Bike with him, he rode quickly but you felt completely safe with him enveloped by his scent & pressed up against the wall of muscle, even in a white denim shearling jacket people would think he looked menacing but he was as docile & soft as a kitten with you, you loved it.

Exactly like before he helped remove your helmet & smoothed down your hair, you assumed he'd stay on the bike but he got off & took his own helmet off.

'I had a really great time Bucky, thanks for lunch. Next time I'll make you a picnic & we can go back. It was beautiful up there.'

'In that case, same time tomorrow doll?' he wanted to push his luck & ask to pick you up tonight but he stopped himself.

'It's a date.' you couldn't stop yourself from reflecting his smile.

He pulled you into his arms, you swore a hug from Bucky should be prescribed by doctors instead of anti-depressants, they made you feel so safe, secure & cherished, apart from being completely addictive & the only side affect you had come across so far was unadulterated horniness.

He pulled back slightly, your noses brushing against each other’s, he had regretted not kissing you that first night so he made sure he leaned in & softly pressed his lips to yours. His lips were so soft & you melted into him, your hand made its way to his face feeling his strong jaw as you pulled him even closer to you. It took every ounce of restraint not to let passion take over, he was aware you were outside your office so he kept it as respectable as possible, one hand in the small of your back pressing you against him & the other on your hip. You were both smiling throughout & didn’t stop at one, as you were attempting to part it turned into long lingering kisses & small pecks like your lips were magnets repeatedly finding the pull too great to be separated from their rightful place. Together.

You eventually peeled yourself away from Bucky & floated to your office on a cloud of euphoria, as you began to flesh out the narrative of your fantasy in your head your phone pinged.

James 💙

Doll I swear if we weren’t outside your office I wouldn’t have been so well behaved. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

You were beaming as you read his text, you quickly replied as there was a knock on your door. Scott stood in the doorway, in place of his usual kind expression was a look of anguish, he was torn, on one hand it was truly none of his business who you associated with but if you were being forced to be with Bucky he had to try & help or worse if he was trying to manipulate you into bed by pretending to be someone he wasn’t he needed to warn you at least.

Doll ❤️

Tell me about it. I don’t think I’ll get much work done this afternoon after that goodbye 😘

You quickly switched your phone to silent & placed it in your desk drawer whilst you dealt with your visitor, ‘Hey Scott, what’s up?’ Your eyes narrowed immediately assuming something had happened whilst you were on lunch.

‘We need to talk.’

[sweetlybarnes]

Hi Aeryn sweetie! How are you? I saw you reblogged some prompts and I wondered if I could please request the following with beefy!Bucky? — 25: “You’re hugging me too tight?” // 27: “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.” And finally 24: “How mad would you be if I kissed you?” Please and thank you very much beauty! 💗

Snow White Dream

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Reader believes it’s unrequited feelings/love, fluff that alludes to friends/colleagues to lovers.

Author’s Notes: Thank you so so so sooo much lovely anon for the prompt requests! I’m dead nervous posting this but thank you so much lovely @becca-e-barnes for the encouragement! If it wasn’t for you this would never see the light of day! I’m not entirely confident 🥺 but I really hope you like it! 😭

Word count: 590

There were worse places you could think of being in right now. For example, alone, bloody and cold in the basement of a hydra facility with no hopes of getting out alive which is exactly where you’d be right now if it wasn’t for the one and only, your knight in shining armour Bucky Barnes.

Bucky saved your life and got the two of you to safety in the safe house in the middle of the quiet and seemingly abandoned forest.

He literally was your knight in shining armour and life saver. Your feelings for the soldier only grew stronger as the years went by. But you thought he only ever saw you as a friend. Bucky only ever exchanged pleasantries with the odd pet name every now and then if you were in the same room. A one sided crush that was bound to end up in heartache as you believed the man you wanted a future with would and could never feel the same way.

As you looked out of the window thinking about Bucky; it was like a scene from one of those Christmas rom-coms Tony always watches with the snow falling in clumps outside, the sky is white with the firewood crackling in the fireplace. The only things missing were the ugly Christmas sweaters, the Christmas tree and the homemade hot chocolate. The blustery weather made you shiver, you wrapped your arms around yourself and closed the curtains.

Bucky was leaning against the wall opposite you, watching you as you watched the snow fall outside. He too thought it was a cliché moment; a man and a woman in a cabin in the woods all alone while the snow fell. He guessed it was knee deep by now, meaning the two of you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon which was absolutely fine by him, he wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt you.

You turned and your breath hitched with your hand on top of your heart.

“Barnes. You scared me!” You chuckle lightheartedly.

“Sorry doll. Come here please.” He pouted and opened his arms wide. A smile appeared on your face before you could stop it and you walked right into his open arms. He closed his arms around you and squeezed. Your face smushed right up against his hard chest and you wheezed.

“Bucky! You’re hugging me too tight!” You whined playfully, a small laugh escaping you as you stepped back.

His pouty lips turned into a toothy smile. Seeing him smile was a rarity and it’s something even you haven’t witnessed despite being somewhat close to the super soldier.

“Wow you’re smiling.” You smile at him and fold your arms. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

His cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as he dips his head to look down at the floor.

“Can I be honest with you doll?” He bites his lip nervously and you nod with another smile.

“Of course.”

“It’s cheesy but… I smile a lot when I think about you.” He admits, wringing his hands nervously.

Your mouth opens to say something, but before any words fall out he’s already speaking again. You felt hopeful that this wasn’t a one sided crush after all.

“How mad would you be if I kissed you?” Bucky blushed, biting his bottom lip.

“I- I wouldn’t be mad at all. In fact I’d think I was in the middle of a dream.” You chuckled, your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips and back again. Bucky leaned in, his hands placed gently on your waist and he smiled down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“Not a dream doll, I promise.”

“Kiss me.”

[evildeen]

Hey, it's your Beefy Bucky partner. Sorry it took me so long to get in contact. RL has been crazy. Anyway, I saw that you liked happy/domestic fics and I was wondering if you would like a family fic with the possibility of Pregnant!Bucky? Also, would you like smut at all in your gift? I have a few working ideas right now. Let me know if there is anything specific you do or do not want in your gift.

Hey buddy!! I hope RL calms down for you ASAP!

I’m down for smut, first of all! I guess to clarify I’m not into like family/kids domestic stuff so much as things like “making coffee” and “burning grilled cheese on the stove and setting off the fire alarm a million times until giving up and ordering a pizza”?? Looking back I realize “domestic fluff” is more than what I thought and that is sooo my bad. 

Please please let me know if you wanna run stuff by me though because I’m super excited and I’m flexible!!

[imerdwarf]

Sworn To Secrecy

Requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms: Hey colleague ❤️ I really love your writing! So I also thought to send you an idea 😊 The reader is Bucky’s girlfriend but just a normal civilian and he keeps it a secret at the compound. One day she visits him but crosses the other Avengers and Sam is immediately flirting with you but Bucky just comes, swoops you in his arms and kisses you. The others are shocked and confused and later that day they finally tell them they’ve been together for a while now and they are all happy for you two? 😊

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Civilian!Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: Absolutely none! Just a lot of fluff 🥰

Author's Notes: Thank you so much my dear friend for sending in this beautiful request, I hope you like it and please let me know if there's anything you want me to change! 💜

Your phone vibrated in the palm of your hand and your smile reached both corners of your eyes when you saw the name light up your screen.

Bucky: I can't wait to see you, how long until you get here?

Your fingers flew quickly over the touch sensitive keyboard to reply back, without any typos might I add.

Y/N: I'm five minutes away. Patience! ;)

The wind blew in your face as you tilted your head upwards and sighed. Your relationship with Bucky Barnes was absolutely not the easiest thing in the world. He had made you sworn to secrecy about it, to protect yourself and him from potential haters and enemies.

You were grateful that you were able to spend a lot of time together when he didn't have month-long missions to go on. The sunny afternoons were spent in your small apartment on the couch watching movies with a blanket draped over the two of you, often accompanied by a hot chocolate made from his secret recipe.

Everything about Bucky screamed safety; his big beefy frame, bulging biceps that he just knew you loved and deliberately bought small sizes to show them off, his thick thighs were a dream for you whenever you draped your legs over them to get comfortable. Nothing about him scared you, not even that matte black and gold Wakandan inspired arm of his. It did wonders when you were burning up with fevers.

You met Bucky by chance at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. It was a cliché moment when you accidentally turned around too quickly and spilled your hot drink over his white shirt. Endless apologies spilled from your lips while Bucky was too busy admiring your beautiful features that your words simply fell on deaf ears. To Bucky, it felt as though time had temporarily stopped ticking, and the only people in the coffee shop at that moment was you and him.

The two of you exchanged numbers with your promises of buying him a brand new shirt to replace the one you ruined. You texted each other every second of every day. The more you talked, the easier and the flirty-er the texts became.

A month after the coffee shop incident, you almost keeled over when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. He regretted he couldn't take you on a date because of his status, and that never really bothered you.

You didn't date him because he was a popular avenger, with a staggering 100 million followers on his Instagram. For your protection, he couldn't follow you either, but that too didn't bother you. You dated him because you loved his personality and you loved him.

You zig-zagged past the oncoming pedestrians as the tower came into view. Outside of the gates there was already a crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the avengers.

The security guard in the booth next to the gate was trying to reason with the crowd, sadly a building this well known attracted all kinds of attention and tourism. You were told that people from Australia would come to visit.

You approached the guard with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon sir," you greeted politely, pulling some I.D out from your purse.

"Good afternoon! Are you expected here today?" The guard smiled but looked over your shoulder to see the crowd was now taking pictures of the front of the tower. He shooed them away and brought his attention back to you.

"Yes, Sergeant James Barnes is expecting me." The way his name rolled off your tongue was like drops of honey. Smooth and sweet.

The guard checked the list of visitors expected today and hummed with a smile.

"So he is. So what you do is, go to the front desk with your visitor badge and they'll direct you to his floor."

With a quiet thanks and holding on tightly to the badge, you walk through the screeching iron gates. Your shoes crunch underneath the gravel and the wind howls through the trees that gives off extra privacy.

The lady at reception greets you warmly and you relax when you give her your name and show her your visitor badge as directed by the security guard.

"Take the elevator and go to floor 13. Sergeant Barnes is currently in a meeting but he won't be too long." Another thank you passes through your lips as you head off towards the glass and chrome elevator.

The ride up to the 13 floors was agonisingly slow. Classical music filled the emptiness of the elevator. The glass casing gave you a beautiful view overlooking the grounds of the compound. A rose garden of all different shades of roses up the far left of the green garden surrounded by cherry blossoms and hydrangeas. Benches scattered across the grounds that you hoped to one day have the pleasure of sitting on and watch the bumblebees.

This was another reason Bucky loved you so much, you were so passionate and kind against wildlife and nature.

Finally, after god knows how long you've been staring out into the garden daydreaming, the elevator doors ding open and you're greeted with a muscular blond God with a red Cape hung over his back and a creepy wide grin on his face. His scruffy hair made you think he hadn't washed it in a few days.

"I was expecting someone else, but hello!" His voice seemed to boom throughout the space of whatever room this actually was. Some kind of hallway, but you're pretty sure you would hear his voice from all the way from that beautiful garden.

"Uh hello!" You stuttered, taken by surprise that there would be other people here.

"I am Thor, the God of Thunder!" His arms went wide and so did his smile. Your mouth gaped open and closed when you recognised the name. Thor. God of thunder. Of course, you read about these gods and how he ruled Asgard. Or was set to.

"Thor! Of course," you chuckled nervously, stretching your hand out in front of you, "I'm Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Please follow me and allow me to introduce you to my mortal friends," you chuckled at that line, and adjusted your sweater.

"Friends, mortals! We have a guest, this is Y/N, A human of Earth." Thor stepped aside and your eyes widened; you were only standing in the same room as the avengers, the same people Bucky spoke so highly of. Thor told you the names of the people in front of you, everyone was there and you wondered where the hell Bucky was.

Tony was the first one to step forward and looked you up and down by moving his tinted glasses to the bridge of his nose. You relaxed when he smiled, but only slightly. You realised they had not asked why some stranger was standing in their living room.

"You know who I am?" Tony asked smugly, his arms folded over his chest.

You nodded, your eyes flickered down his chest, his arc reactor lit up in a bright blue. You almost reached out to touch it but stopped yourself before you could.

"Uh yes. You're Tony I believe?" You blushed under their gazes. Bucky told you they were the best people, but to you they were very intimidating.

"Very good. What brings you to my tower?"

"I'm here to see—"

"Wow! Who is this?" A voice yelled out from behind you. A guy you recognised as Sam, or Falcon, or Birdbrain as Bucky liked to call him.

"Y/N!" Thor answered before you could, the rest of the avengers took a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, hi," a small laugh came out and it made your cheeks heat up when his eyes raked over your form.

"My, my. You are gorgeous!" He kept that grin on his lips as he stepped closer. His over-sprayed cologne was suffocating you. "Beautiful, just perfect, just—"

"Mine!" Bucky yelled from the doorway as he stormed past Sam to get to you. You bit your lip to hide the growing grin and failed, he swooped you up in his arms, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he spun the two of you around and kissed you.

Cat calls sounded from the couch and you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled away for air, the expressions on everyone's faces told you they needed and wanted an explanation.

You could only imagine the questions they wanted to ask; how did you know Bucky Barnes? How did a soldier and an assassin manage to keep a relationship so hidden under the eyes of a mind-reader and a super intelligent spy? How did Bucky not slip up to Steve about having a girlfriend? All valid questions of course.

Bucky lowered you back down on your feet and pressed his forehead against yours. Without giving the team an answer, he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you away, leaving the superheroes with confusion etched upon their faces.

Bucky gave you a thorough tour of the tower. He showed you the gym, the kitchen where he made you his favourite sandwich, he even showed you his room. It was painted in a light blue with white curtains and blinds, thick, soft cream carpet covered the floor and his bed was as soft as a cloud. It was a lot more comfortable than your bed, that's for sure.

Later that day, Tony ordered a takeout and invited everyone to the dining room to eat, including you. The way Bucky's hand was slung protectively around your shoulder didn't go amiss by anyone in the room. It was when he finally sat down did the questions start.

"Alright, what's the deal with you two? Is this a prank? Is he paying you darling?" Sam fired off first, pointing his fork at the two of you opposite him.

Bucky glared at him from calling you 'darling', from where you were sat you could hear the heavy breathing. Your hand slipped into your lap and into his, giving his thigh a firm squeeze to keep calm.

"Y/N is not being paid!" Bucky defended, outraged he could even think such a thing.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before speaking, "it's true and I understand it's a shock but Bucky is actually my boyfriend and has been for the past couple of months," you smiled, proud of the fact you were in a relationship with this man and it was no longer secret.

"How the hell did that happen?" Tony queried, waving his chopsticks in the air, flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"What, you think I'm not capable of meeting people?" Bucky challenged, not really enjoying the interrogation which was the whole reason he didn't want to say anything at the beginning.

"Well of course I wouldn't be surprised if it was Capsicle here but it's you," Tony snorted.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bucky was yelling and turning red with anger when Nat sought the opportunity to take the heat off the two men.

"So, Y/N. Tell us about yourself."

Tags: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016