#brooklyn breed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gutsby · 2 months ago

Text

Honor Among Thieves

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly

Descriptions of violence throughout

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.

“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”

Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.

“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.

Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.

“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”

Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.

“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:

“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”

Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.

“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.

“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.

“Yes.”

Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.

“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”

You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.

“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.

For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.

“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”

“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”

By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.

“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.

You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.

“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”

The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.

Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.

If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.

You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.

Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.

Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.

“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”

“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.

But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.

“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”

He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.

You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.

“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.

“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”

Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.

“Baby?” he breathed.

Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:

“Y-Yeah?”

He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.

“I need you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.

“And you might not like it, doll.”

Your eyes widened some.

“O— O-Okay, what?”

Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.

“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.

“What?”

Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.

“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”

At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.

“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”

But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.

Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.

“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”

His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.

“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”

“WAKE UP!”

Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.

She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.

You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.

Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.

There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.

It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.

A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.

As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.

Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.

“Hydrate. Please.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled

“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.

“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.

“My bad, Rogers.”

You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.

“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”

By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.

“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.

You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.

She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.

At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.

Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.

“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”

“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.

Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.

“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.

“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”

At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.

“What?”

Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.

“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”

Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.

It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.

“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.

You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.

“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.

He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”

“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.

Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.

The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl

“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.

“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.

“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.

Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”

Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.

Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.

“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.

“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”

“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”

On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:

‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’

“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.

You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.

“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.

A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.

Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.

“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.

While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.

You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.

“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:

“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”

“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”

“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”

Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.

“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.

Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.

Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.

“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.

“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”

Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.

“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.

Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,

“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”

Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.

“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”

Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.

You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.

“I— gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.

You sprinted up the stairs without another word.

The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.

You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.

You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”

A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.

Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.

“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.

Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,

“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”

You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”

Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.

“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”

You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.

“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”

You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.

She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.

“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.

“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”

Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.

And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.

“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”

You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.

“Just in case.”

Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.

You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.

P.M.

Shit.

SHIT.

That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.

Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.

Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.

And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:

“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”

You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.

You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.

A familiar face.

Bucky’s face.

You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.

Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.

‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.

You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.

“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”

It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”

But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.

As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.

“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.

You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:

“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”

You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.

“I was scared, Bucky.”

It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.

Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.

“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”

“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”

You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful

Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.

“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”

Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.

“Baby? C’mon.”

You didn’t budge.

Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.

“Baby?”

“I’m leaving, Bucky.”

You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”

“I want a divorce.”

That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.

Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.

“Divorce?”

Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.

“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.

“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”

“It’s what I need.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.

“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.

“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”

Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.

“What are you talking about?”

The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.

“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.

You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.

Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—

“STOP!” you shrieked.

You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.

And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:

“Don’t touch me!”

When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’

‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’

You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.

Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.

He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.

He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.

You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.

While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.

This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.

You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.

“Honey?”

No answer.

“Baby, please open the door.”

More silence.

The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.

Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.

“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.

He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’

No sound to be heard inside but running water.

“You mean everything to me, doll.”

By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.

“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”

For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.

A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”

The joy lasted less than a second.

The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.

Bucky didn’t blink.

You stepped outside not wanting to see him.

The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.

That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.

“Hi, honey.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.

You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.

‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.

Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.

“Don’t what?”

The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:

“Don’t hurt h—”

“Why?”

You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.

“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.

His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.

“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.

Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”

Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.

“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.

“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”

The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:

“Schröder.”

Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch her.”

Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.

“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”

You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,

“What do you want?!”

Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.

“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”

And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.

Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.

“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”

Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.

“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”

Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.

“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”

Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.

Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.

“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.

You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.

He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.

“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”

You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.

Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:

“SCHRÖDER—”

He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.

“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”

Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.

Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.

“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”

The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:

“Stop! I-It wasn’t— just— just stop. Stop.”

“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”

Schröder bore down even harder.

“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.

But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—

He kissed you.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.

Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.

It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.

Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.

Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.

Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:

“Stay where you are, Barnes.”

Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.

“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”

Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.

“James, stop!”

That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.

You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.

It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.

Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.

‘I’m sorry.’

When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.

“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:

“Now where were we?”

A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.

“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

More silence.

You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.

“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”

But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.

“—what you did to her?”

The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.

To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.

Pointed it.

Pushed it closer to you.

“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”

Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.

And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.

You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.

Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.

You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?

You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.

“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”

Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.

Schröder kept making him prod the skin.

“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”

Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.

If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.

You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’

Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.

As if he hadn’t heard you at all—

“You already saw what happened to her hand.”

—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.

“But what about here?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.

It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.

What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder’s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.

Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.

“What do you—”

He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.

“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.

“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.

Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.

Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.

“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”

And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.

Only guilt.

“You did it.”

Desperation.

More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”

You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.

As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:

“I love you.”

His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.

There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.

He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.

Something horrific.

He couldn’t protect you.

His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.

Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.

“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.

The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.

“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”

He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.

Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.

“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.

“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”

And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.

“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”

Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.

“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”

Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.

“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”

Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.

He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.

“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”

The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.

His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.

Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.

Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:

“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”

Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.

All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.

“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.

You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.

Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.

“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schröder.

He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.

What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.

Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.

“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”

Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.

Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.

That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.

He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.

There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.

Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:

“Bucky, please, stop.”

He did.

He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.

“Baby—”

To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.

Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.

The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.

Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.

His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.

Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.

Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.

You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.

Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more

They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again

“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.

Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”

Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.

The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—

“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.

“Did it kill him?”

Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”

“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.

You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.

“The bullet—” you started.

“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”

That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.

Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.

Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’re okay?”

His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.

“I’m alright.”

You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.

In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.

“You’re alright,” he repeated.

His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.

“Are you?” Your voice was small.

In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.

“The baby,” he said quickly.

He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.

After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.

And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.

When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.

Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.

“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.

And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.

Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.

It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.

A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.

Felt him.

Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.

And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.

“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.

For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—

“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.

You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’

Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.

The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.

When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.

“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.

“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.

You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:

“Honey, you’re soaked.”

There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.

He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:

“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”

You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.

“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.

Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.

“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.

He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.

“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.

“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.

Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.

Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’

You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.

The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.

You smelled blood.

He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:

“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”

Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.

The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.

Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.

You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.

“I love you.”

It was desperate. Hoping for something.

“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.

But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.

“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”

You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.

Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:

“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”

You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.

“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”

—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.

You didn’t need to say it.

The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.

Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.

“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”

His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.

“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.

You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began to well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.

Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.

Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.

“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”

Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.

You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.

Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.

“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled, having parted but still holding on.

“I think I would like that, too. One day.”

The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.

You had one hell of a story to tell them.

Taglist: @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @wilsons-striped-ties @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @lunaroserites @first-edition @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @mostlymarvelgirl @yujyujj @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @5thgoddess @oogaboogabeepboop @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @mimimarvelingmarvel @counteveresttt @thepetitemandalorian @diannana @aagn360 @aka-tua-braindump @shortnloud @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @ladyvenera @gyokujyn @bigtreefest @winterschildren8 @mega-kittyglitter-1

#bucky barnes smut #mob!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #mob!bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #marvel #mcu #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mafia!bucky

2K notes · View notes

insomniumstella · 1 year ago

Text

baby, she's all yours

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: free use (consent to be "used" anytime & anywhere), explicit language, fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), a sprinkle of degradation, a sprinkle of breeding kink, dom!bucky, public sex, light spanking, daddy kink (i should be stopped). this one is bad, so it goes without saying, but MDI

word count: 1,240

author's note: this is a lil' story in celebration of kinktober, which time won't permit me to participate in, but my thoughts always wanted to. ➼ sharp, but oh so gentle

James was hesitant to explore the concept you described as free use at first, and maybe a fraction scared. The two of you had been dating for close to three years, and though things were great, the idea of you introducing free use into the bedroom days after knife play troubled him. His heart has always been heavy with the notion of being too difficult to love and too bothersome to deal with, but you made him feel enough; more than. Special in public when you would proudly hold his hand, and special in the comfort of plush sheets when you would let him cherish you — use and mould you into a drooling mess, obeying every demand. Was proposing a fresh kink a silent plead to advise him you have gotten bored?

As it turned out, it was. Kind of. The itch beneath your skin urging you to explore foreign waters wasn’t boredom but rather lust. Fiery hot and addicting type of lust that ignited every nerve ending in your body around him. Still does. Introducing Bucky to free use was the best—and the most deliciously infuriating—thing to soothe your constant yearning for his touch.

It caught you off guard, the first time he complied with the request. Steve had recently purchased an apartment in Brooklyn and organised a small housewarming celebration. You slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen once your glass turned empty, oblivious to the very needy pair of eyes studying you. The music muffled your soft moans then, as James fingered you against the blonde’s new refrigerator, suffocating the whines his thick fingers caused with passionate kisses.

The second time it happened, it was winter. Powdery layers of snow covered the entirety of New York City, and, as the sun laid to rest for the evening, the streets seemed magical. James and you were rushing to Natasha’s birthday dinner, stopping by Bergdorf Goodman for a last-minute gift. Time around holidays is always strenuous, but the missions almost doubled last year, rustles of a deadly biochemical weapon dampening the joy of Christmas and stealing your attention away from getting Natasha a gift early. Bucky tackled the three bottom floors whilst you handled the other three, scouring the variety of fine jewelry and designer clothing. As fate would have it, a gorgeous sequinned dress piqued your interest, the colour of it overly harsh for the redhead’s complexion but perfectly complimenting to yours. James practically pleaded for you to model it, assuring nobody would notice you being late a minute or two. Desire waltzed in his eyes when you agreed at last, twirling around to present the garment and flaunt how well it flattered your curves. He shoved the two of you into the private dressing room once the sales associate disappeared to bring out a pair of matching heels, closing the curtains and hiking the dress up to your waist. “Be good for me,” he spoke, undoing his zipper and slipping the tip of his cock into your dripping heat, “you wouldn’t want employees to hear us, would you, doll?” You couldn’t think of the gift you ended up buying Natasha, but you can still remember sobbing into Bucky’s hand as his hips feverishly snapped into yours.

Sometimes, that particular memory makes you wonder if introducing James to free use was a mistake — you’d be lying if you said it was because the thrill of being played with at times you least expect is exhilarating. The agreement caused many risky scenarios, though. There was that instance of Bucky between your legs, lapping at your core during a video call with your sister. The wooden desk shielded him from view as he relished you, but the grimaces on your features were a smidge more difficult to camouflage. “You taste incredible, baby,” Bucky mumbled, flesh and metal hands gripping the softness of your exposed thighs, before eagerly licking your clit. “Couldn’t ever get enough of this pussy.” You inadvertently moaned thrice during the call, disguising the sinful sounds by feigning coughs and attributing your strange demeanour to a common cold. “Tell her the truth,” James teased then, slipping a metal digit inside your needy hole, and you sneakily slapped his shoulder. The unsuspecting woman on screen continued to babble about her upcoming visit as you hit the mute button on your computer because the man below you had zero intentions of easing up. “Can feel you squeezin’,” he groaned, slipping a couple more of his metal digits inside. “Please end the call, peach, so I could fuck you atop this desk already.”

There was also the time he got annoyed on a road trip, freeing his cock and guiding your head downward to silence your complaints about his driving on unpaved roads. “Be a good girl and put that mouth to better use,” he grunted as you licked drops of pre-cum off his skin. “Na uh, doll,” with his left arm on the steering wheel, James forced the entirety of his length into your mouth, “we ain’t got time for any foreplay shit right now.”

Furthermore, introducing him to free use is the reason for your current predicament — being bent over the sink at a local bar with Bucky balls deep inside you.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” James praises, catching your gaze in the grimy mirror before spanking your velvety hips. “My girl’s such a slut for me, letting me play with her in a random pub’s bathroom.” It’s more of an observation than dirty talk, and you bite back a moan, nodding. “Bet you’re always thinking about daddy’s big cock, wishing you could be bursting full of me forever, aren’t you?” A harsh spank lands on your scorching skin when you don’t immediately answer. “I asked you a question, peach.”

“Yes,” you sob, digging your manicured nails into the base of your palm. “Love it—,” another wail slips past your swollen lips, “love it when you use me, daddy.”

The pace of his hips slamming into yours remains brutal as he studies your expression in the mirror. “Look at you,” he clutches your chin, the slight pain of it forcing you to peel your eyes open, “my baby’s so fucked out, she’s having trouble speaking.” The steady pulse of your approaching orgasm heightens as Bucky admires the whimpering mess that is you, leaning lower until the slight stubble on his jaw tickles your ear. “Should I let you finish, or should I leave you all desperate and stuffed full of my cum until happy hour’s over?”

“Please,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

“That’s too—,” James chuckles through a groan as his own orgasm bursts in syrupy waves, “—bad.” The rhythm of his movements falters and then stops, and if tears weren’t streaming down your face already, you would’ve cried at the loss of contact, feeling terribly empty without Bucky to keep you warm. Though you don’t say a word to him, he can sense your frustration, the weight of your emotions lingering in the atmosphere around you. Slithering his metal hands between your legs, he pushes the cum that leaked out back inside you, thrusting a couple times to soothe your disappointment before withdrawing his touch and shoving your discarded panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t let it drip out if you want a reward when we get home.” A lazy grin stretches across his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female!reader

3K notes · View notes

mrs-elsie-barnes · 7 months ago

Text

Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing.

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes.

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up.

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too.

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry.

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee.

“Just doing a stock check.”

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls.

“He?”

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him.

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink.

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.”

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face.

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?”

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play.

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it.

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again.

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?”

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile.

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky.

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back.

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind.

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed.

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run.

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back.

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt.

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind.

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight.

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?”

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms.

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack.

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest.

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten.

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist.

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms.

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over.

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands.

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.”

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe?

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair.

An omega?

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide.

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe.

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky.

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose.

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin.

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly.

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife.

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before.

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch.

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them.

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them.

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling.

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!”

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body.

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused,

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin.

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing.

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more.

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing.

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level.

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly.

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply.

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin.

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly.

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again.

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door.

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both.

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home.

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away.

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over.

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.”

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest.

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea.

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side.

Steve and Sam could only stare.

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.”

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side.

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?”

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place.

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much.

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low.

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist.

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.”

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up.

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair.

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath.

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you.

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.”

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you.

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil.

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back.

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely.

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again.

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air.

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender.

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #alpha bucky x reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #omegaverse #bucky barnes events #Alpha Bucky April

1K notes · View notes

minhosimthings · 11 months ago

Text

Brooklyn Baby

Symphony smut series Day 2: Lana del Rey's Brooklyn Baby

Lyric: My boyfriends' in a band, he plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

Pairings: dom!Heeseung × dom!Jay × fem!sub!reader

Warnings: Poly relationship, SMUT MINORS DNI, vibrator, double penetration, oral (f and m recieving), dacryphillia, degradation, reader wears a dress, mention of breeding, Heeseung fucks reader with a vibrator, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (definetly not for you), threesome, kinda mean doms hee and jay

A/N: Day 2! I love this song with all my heart so I thought Jay would be the perfect fit cause duh, but then I was like why don't we make it a little interesting and add Heeseung into the mixture? Anyway this is my first time writing poly so please be kind everyone.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

When you took up the offer in college to be lead singer of a three-person band, you hadn't expected to become a celebrity princess overnight. What you also hadn't expected was for your two loving members, Heeseung and Jay, to become your loving boyfriends. A little bit of poly never hurt did it?

"Darling, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up." Jay peeked his head around the door, to see you applying your lip gloss all prettily around your lips.

The lip gloss he had gotten you.

"How do I look?" You turned to him with uncertainty. The dress was beautiful, one that your fans would adore. The makeup was also done to perfection by your '24 hour routine' as Heeseung called it.

"Beautiful as always." Jay responded, stretching his hand out to you, and twirling you around, relishing the tight fit of the dress against your waist, "I think engenes are going to want to steal you from me and Heeseung."

"Please." Heeseung's footsteps announced his arrival into the room, his eyes widening as they fell upon you, "They won't ever be able to do that.

"So protective." You wrapped your arms around Heeseung's neck, whilst Jay's stayed on your waist, "Are we ready?"

You looked into the mirror infront of you, where you all stood out perfectly in color coordinated outfits. A flurry of blues and purples perfectly describing your band's genre stared back at you in the mirror.

"Perfect."

"And now we have the overnight musical sensation! Please welcome Enhypen!" The host's voice boomed across the room, as you entered from backstage, both arms twirled in both your boyfriends' arms.

The audience applauded and hooted, cheering your names, the official fanchant over and over again and again.

"Well aren't they excited for today?" The host merrily laughed, as you sat down in between Heeseung and Jay.

"Well, welcome to the show! How are you feeling?"

"Nervous I guess." You answered with a slight chuckle, calming down as Jay's hand pressed on yours.

"Well of course! I believe you are excited for the live performance tonight?"

"Well of course." Jay responded this time. His perfume did smell good, you thought as you watched him speak with such eloquence. He did always have a way with his words everywhere.

"You're not ignoring me are you?" You heard Heeseung whisper into your ear, his hand creeping up to your thigh. You were thankful for the table infront of you which shielded the bottom part of your body, a part which Heeseung loved to touch.

His hand reached lower into your thigh, tickling your skin with his cold hands as he gripped them hard.

"And Miss Y/N!" The host said, snapping you out of the sudden urge to moan, "How would you describe your relationship with the boys?"

Great, you thought, another dumb question just for me.

"Um I'd say we're best friends." You nervously said. Revealing your relationship to the world wouldn't really be all sunshine and rainbows. "We've been friends since college actually, when we decided to form Enhypen. And well I guess we're close to family now." You awkwardly laughed to cover up the situation as the host moved on to the next question.

"And now, our dear audience let's get ready for the performance!" The host's voice boomed again, as the audience clapped their hands off.

A microphone and two guitars were all prepped and ready as you walked up, adjusting the mic to your level. Jay examined the guitar carefully and slipped it on, teasing the audience by playing a few notes on it, to which you heard girls scream his name. You smiled to yourself, remembering all the shit they wrote on your boys, all the fanfiction which they really thought would come true.

Hah as if! The boys belonged to you, and you only.

If only you knew what was coming for you after the performance.

"Best friends huh?" Jay pinned you against the wall, Heeseung's chuckles filling the room, as he slowly removed his belt and watch, "Too afraid to tell the world what we are darling?"

"Jay y-you know we can't." You reprimanded him, trying to take the upper hand. But only failure came to you at that moment, as you felt your thighs become stickier by the moment.

"Aww look at her." Heeseung chuckled again, "Our good little girl. Why don't we teach her a lesson, huh Jay?"

Jay smirked at you, going in for a kiss before saying, "Want her first?"

"Nah you have fun, I'll take her later." Heeseung settled himself comfortably on the loveseat facing the bed, his legs wide open in a manspread.

You felt shivers around your body as Jay, picked you up like a rag doll and threw you onto the bed.

"We don't need this, do we?" Jay toyed with your panties. The straps of your dress pressed tightly against your shoulders and Jay, pressed his fingers to your clothed labia, removing the underwear with ease and depositing it on the floor.

The shaky breath you took made Jay smile against your skin, the warmth of his breath crashing against your exposed flesh.

As his fingers slowly began to curve in and out of you, he came to kiss your skin, moving down with each kiss towards your clit. The sensation of his lips grazing the latter inevitably brought your hand to rest in his hair as you arched your back.

The room was dimly lit, courtesy to the closed curtains, but you could see Heeseung from the corner of your eye, smirking intently at Jay reaching down to your clit, one of his hands massaging the bulge on his pants gently.

Jacking off while Jay works his way through you, typical Heeseung, you would have scoffed if not for Jay providing heaven to you at that moment.

Jay's tongue made sinuous circles around your clit as his two fingers accelerated slightly. He knew which places he had to touch to make you produce the sweetest sounds, and he wasn't going to deprive himself of hearing them.

You can feel him grinning while he licks and swirls his tongue around your swollen nub, hands beginning to slow to a halt. His fingers pull almost all the way out you, causing your eyes to finally open and a noise of protest leaves your lips.

Your walls were perfect, taking his thick, long fingers into you so good. He curved them while making smaller and smaller circles centered on your clit, kissing and licking it.

Your hands gripped his hair more firmly, your breath quickening as the heat rose to your cheeks and the knot tightened in your belly.

And just as you the climax reached closer and closer, your mouth almost about to scream-

"Jay!" You cried, laying an eye on Jay's face peeking out from between your legs, "Why'd you stop?"

Jay chuckled and glanced over at Heeseung, who sighed and got up, striding over to you, the buttons of his shirt slightly opened, giving him a more powerful look

"Only our girlfriend deserves to cum, but you're not her are you?" Heeseung moved to the atmosphere above you, as Jay slowly collapsed on the loveseat where Heeseung had been sitting, "Remind me what she is Jay?"

"Our best friend." Jay said, an unusually sadistic tone to his voice, "Do you want the vibrator or will you be going in with your fingers?"

"Hand me the vibrator." Heeseung said, stroking your thigh with his fingers again, eliciting a mewl out of you, "You wanna use the pink one princess?"

"Don't ask her that you know she'll say yes." Jay's voice could be heard from across the room, as he dug and dug into the cupboard, "Aha! There you go."

A needy moan falls from your lips as Heeseung presses the pink machine deeper inside your pussy, whining a bit as it clenches tighter. Pleasure rushes through your core while your moans grow louder and needier.

"Aww look at her." Heeseung chuckles, "so fucking needy aren't you?"

He groans softly, biting his lip as he takes in the sight of you before him. Heeseung was never the one to keep his control. The vibrator slides through your folds absentmindedly, keeping you wet and needy. Heeseung's eyes darken a bit at the sight of your arching back.

"Fuck, princess," he whispers, kneeling on the bed closer to you. His free hand come to rest on your hips, sliding along, caressing your thighs, your curves in admiration and desire.

"How does it feel? Good?" he whispers, voice almost raw with need, "Do you want something better?"

"Fuck Heeseung!" You cry, feeling the vibrator switch to a faster pace, Heeseung pushing it deeper and deeper into you.

Tears falls down your face, the pleasure rushing through you almost being impossible to take. And yet, you didn't fuck two men at the same time to crumble so easily did you?

"Are you close, princess?" he leans his body over yours, whispering in your ears, "Do you wanna cum for me?"

“i-i’m gonna cum… fuck! Heeseung–!” you cry out, ready to tip over that peak until the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you was ripped away. "No!"

You whip your head around, glancing over your shoulder to see the shit-eating smirk Jay was wearing on his face.

“ah… i guess you really wanted to cum right?” he teases, one of his hands rubbing soft circles on his dick.

“aw… m’sorry baby,” Heeseung coos at you, his hands coming up to rest on your jaw. “but brats don’t get what they want, now do they?” he says, the grip on your face tightening.

“Think you can handle two dicks in your tight little cunt?” Jay teases, no having joined you and Heeseung in the bed. You've never heard him talk with such vile language before but you loved this side of him. “Yes daddy~” you moan out.

Skin colliding with skin filled the room, the sound bouncing off the walls.

With a loud moan you nodded, feeling how good the stretch provided by Heeseung's cock felt inside your cunt "right there daddy" you mumbled against the tip of Jay's cock before his hips slammed it inside your mouth once again. You couldn't help but whimper while his cock used your mouth, causing waves of pleasure to travel all over Jay's body who was harshly gripping a fistful of your hair as he deep throated you.

"You love doing this don't you, slut?" Heeseung chuckled, "Making us feel good?"

"but who fucks you better, huh darling?" Jay questioned, his eyes focusing on your face completely fucked out. Your ruined make up, your messy hair, the way your cheeks and nose were all red because of how roughly he was using your mouth and the sight of saliva all over your lips and chin made his cock twitch under your hand.

You moan around his cock with the sting of his condescension, feel Heeseung stiffen inside you with a rut of his hips, grazing your tender g-spot with the added swell. He stutters and curses, Jay grins through a breathy moan as he no doubt recognises the signs he’s seen a hundred times before.

"You wanna cum darling?" Heeseung's chuckle sounds like heaven to your ears, "What do you think Jay?"

"She's treatin me so good." Jay groans, feeling his cum in his belly, "Let her."

Heeseung nods, reaching around you to circle your throbbing clit with surprisingly firm and steady motions despite his impending release. He gets you there, bursts through the dam of white-hot pleasure with a final rut that forces you deeper onto Jay's cock, and the three of you come in an eye watering display of lust and synergy that shouldn’t be found in a group that says they're 'best friends'.

With Jay's cum dripping from your lips, Heeseung's from your post-orgasmic pussy, you wonder how you’re ever going to have sex again after this. Nothing could possibly come close to what you just experienced.

"Fucking hell." Jay collapsed on the bed on your right, while Heeseung did the same thing to your left, "That was good, wasn't it darl-" Jay's words stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you clinging to Heeseung's bicep, and lightly snoring.

"You wanna get showered?" Heeseung whispered to Jay, "I got your favourite shampoo."

"Nah wanna stay like this." Jay answered, wrapping his arms around your waist, spooning you into comfort, "Family." He scoffed, "The only family we're ever going to be is when we fuck our cum into her."

"That's what I was thinking." Heeseung laughed, the three of you holding each other and collapsing into a cocoon of comfort.

2K notes · View notes

songsandsnakes · 1 year ago

Text

we aren't done yet, in S7 ep6, Jake tells Amy "we can't compare ourselves to guinea pigs, babe, you taught me that", which, while it may be nothing, it could be a nod to percy turning into a guinea pig lmao.

I rewatched b99 and it hit me.

Peraltiago is essentially the same as percabeth.

Amy and Annabeth are both classically book smart, independent, confident people. Jake and Percy are both (for lack of a better expression) dumber than their respective partners, love blue drinks (think Florida for Jake) and care deeply for their friends.

#percy jackson #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #percabeth #Pls correct me if I'm wrong #Guinea pigs iggg #It's the episode where Charles and Rosa breed like 600 guinea pigs #And Jake and Amy are trying for a baby #And Amy's upset that the Claires have had more kids than here #This feels like a full blown conspiracy at this point tbh

122 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

Text

Steve Rogers Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely wife @rookthornesartistry

Series & Collections

EXILED NOMAD a series of encounters that could have happened between Civil War and Infinity War SOFT DARK, explicit smut, rough sex, emotionally damaged Steve, lonely reader

↠ July 3, 2017: When He First Got Me (Steve POV) ↠ July 4, 2017: You Should've Seen Him ↠ September 28, 2017: Pull the String ↠ September 28, 2017, around midnight: Put Me Back on My Shelf ↠ March 10, 2018: It Fit Too Right ↠ March 21, 2018: Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night

CEDAR TREES a Royal AU historical romance King!Steve x Queen!Reader politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining to true and utter love, SMUT (rough fucking to fluffy and intimate sexual situations)

↠ Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree [3.4k] ↠ The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are [1.2k] ↠ Winter Solstice (response to an ask) ↠ Cold Hands, Warm Hearts [1.3k] ↠ A Shift in the Morning Routine [1.1k] ↠ Love That's Laid Beside Me [5k] ↠ The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

RED, WHITE & TRUE a Steve Stays AU Presidential Candidate!Steve x Wife!Reader politically arranged marriage, slow burn, eventual smut

↠ Prologue: Upstate New York (Steve POV) [1.3k] ↠ chapter 1: Manhattan & Brooklyn [4k] ↠ chapter 2: Las Vegas & Cleveland [4k] ↠ chapter 3: Houston [3.4k] ↠ chapter 4: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit [4.2k] ↠ more coming soon

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse AU Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5.5k]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Steve x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Bucky

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise Steve and Bucky and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven Steve & Bucky ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

Double-Shots

Tiny Vessels [1.5k] + Don’t Forget You Were the One Who [1.3k] end of Endgame Steve gender neutral Reader insert, brief moments of non-graphic physical intimacy

One-Shots

Peering In My Hollow Core [2.4k] Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey f!Reader explicit smut (dubious consent re: sex pollen)

Witchview [1.3k] ignore Endgame/Steve stays, post-WandaVision, witch!reader soft!dark, smut, magic, manipulation

King [1k] mob AU

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Not Meant to Be Like This [680] omegaverse, smut, unexpected heat

Steve with a Breeding Kink [750] soft dark, smut, tw: dubious consent

Steve and a Dog [200] ignore Endgame/Steve stays gender neutral reader, fluff

With You fluff, potential future Neighbor!Steve scenario/chaptered work

Bodyguard Steve mildly smutty, modern AU

Other Chris Evans Characters...

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #forest navigation

123 notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 2 years ago

Text

You Belong To Me // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, smut/angst/fluff, Dom/Sub, role reversal, possessive sex, jealousy, threats of violence, size difference, car sex, rough sex, riding, multiple orgasms, cum shots, creampies, breeding kink (kinda), handjobs, oral (m and f receiving), body worship, praise kink, marking, begging

Words: 8.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“A strong woman may remain silent when people talk behind her back. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t notice. It simply means she chooses not to waste her energy on foolishness. She has more important things to do”. ~ A quote by someone much stronger than you that was for damn sure.

Anger was an emotion that you didn’t experience often and why would you? You were in a happy and safe relationship with two of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, the biggest inconvenience in your life was whether you had pasta or potato for dinner.

Today however, you felt an unstoppable rage that curled in the pit of your stomach, your blood pumping violently through your veins as it felt like you hadn’t blinked in over 10 minutes, jaw now aching from how hard you were clenching it.

“You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off, Boss Lady. Do I need to be worried?” Sam Wilson asks as he leans against the bar next to the stool you were currently sitting on.

You didn’t rush to reply to your bodyguard, instead lifting the glass you held firmly in your grip to your lips, sipping the alcohol that was strong enough that it burned as it passed down your throat and into the infernal rage in your stomach. Your nostrils flared as you rested your glass back into your lap, trying to take a deep breath as you watched the scene in front of you.

There were two of them. Two women that knew that Steve and Bucky were both your partners, in fact, you’d been introduced to them as Mrs Rogers-Barnes as per Steve’s request, even though you weren’t married, it was just his way of showing who you belonged to. Especially as you were in public and there was nothing more public than the party you were all attending as guests for Steve’s good friend and ally Thor.

The blonde, long-haired giant was very much a lady's man and seemed to have invited half of the female population of Brooklyn. Not that this was an issue, it was actually nice to spend some time with women as you spent so much time around dangerous men and you also felt confident with Steve and Bucky around women, they never even glanced away from you, EVER.

So this was why you had left with Sam to go and get another drink, already enjoying the alcoholic buzz in your veins and wishing for it to continue, however, this gave the perfect opportunity for these two women to flock to your boys.

It had been funny at first, seeing them being completely ignored by your two hulking boyfriends, their back turning as soon as the two girls approached. But this didn’t seem to affect their confidence, persistence and audacity to then lay hands against Bucky’s arm and Steve’s back. This was where you had reached your limit and then when they physically pushed between your boyfriends so they had to look at the girls, well now you were seeing red.

Steve and Bucky were YOURS. Even though you could see them continue to try and move away, how dare these girls, - who knew that the boys were taken - continued to flirt and talk and touch what was yours and just how far they would actually go to get the boy's attention, you didn’t want to find out.

Finishing your drink in a single swig, you placed your glass back onto the bar, slightly surprised that it didn’t smash with the force in which you placed it, before sliding down from the stool. However, a firm hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting your movements as you turned your violent gaze away from the girls and up to Sam.

“What?!”, you asked, voice dripping with poison and promises of fury. Sam’s eyes widen slightly having never heard this tone from you before and you instantly felt remorseful, muscles in your shoulders relaxing slightly, “sorry”, you apologised for your tone.

“I know you’ve got some evil mastermind plan to go over there and whack them one, but don’t do anything out of anger. I’m more than happy to shoot my way out of a situation for you but we’re in a room half filled with gang members that won’t hesitate to shoot if there’s suddenly a fight”.

You released a heavy sigh knowing he was right as you glanced back at the girls, seeing them laughing obnoxiously whilst trying to push their bodies closer to your boys who still continued to try and step away. “Fuck, I want to punch them so badly”, you huffed under your breath.

Sam chuckled deeply, having never seen you this angry before, usually in these sorts of situations you’d be completely overwhelmed, anxious and upset. Clearly, the alcohol was acting as a liquid courage, your anxieties were pushed to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, Sam continued, feeling uncomfortable with the way the girls were acting, noticing the way Natasha was now trying to move them away as she was the boy’s bodyguard. “I’m sure that Boss and Bucky would love nothing more than to see you be their knight in shining armour but I’m just saying - be careful for me… please? Make my life a little easier”, he joked, not letting go of your arm as he tried to catch your eye.

The corner of your lip quipped up slightly, looking up at him, his kind eyes meeting yours, “And what do you suppose I do? Let them continue to touch MY boyfriends? They’re mine!”

You’d never been this verbally possessive, never having been in this mindset before.

“You can do whatever you want Sweetheart and I’ll be there to back you up, no matter what, I’m just saying to take a breathe and think about what you’re doing��.

Sam was right, he always was so you took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth and straightened your spine. Sam seemed to believe that you’d calmed enough as he released the grip on your arm.

“You good?” he asked, resting his hands on your shoulders, giving you a little shake.

“Yeah, I’m good”, you responded.

Turning on the spot, you looked back towards Steve and Bucky who were now looking at you with a quizzical expression, eyes brightening as you finally approached where they were. However you didn’t stop directly next to them, no, you strutted straight for the girls who were a few feet away now thanks to Natasha’s perseverance but they still looked over towards your boyfriends.

You hoped you looked as deadly as you felt, a sly smirk on your lips, shoulders rolled back as you stopped in front of the two girls who were taller than you but this didn’t knock your confidence, as you spoke loud enough that your voice cut through the music, keeping it in a sickly sweet tone. “I see the way you’re looking at them”, you pointed your head in the direction of Steve and Bucky who were watching the exchange intently, Natasha to their left with a proud smirk plastered to her beautiful face and you could feel Sam close behind you still.

The girls looked up and down your body, their eyes full of judgement and disdain, one of them sucked on their teeth, tilting her head to the side, “And who are you supposed to be?”

You looked her directly into her soulless eyes, “Oh you know exactly who I’m supposed to be”. This confidence was something you’d never experienced before, gone was the timid, highly anxious girl, when it came to your boyfriends, no one would get in the way of your protection even if they didn’t necessarily need it. To be disrespected in front of you with the lack of shits given by the two girls, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

One of the girls, who sucked her teeth stepped forward so you were only a foot away from each other, “and why the fuck would we give a shit about that?”

You didn’t back down, stepping close enough that you could smell her rancid cheap perfume, the tips of her shoes grazing yours, “Because then you’d know that they are taken. Do you both understand what the means? Get. Fucking. Lost. They are mine”.

The girls both choked on a laugh, “You don’t fucking own them, maybe they want a taste of us, I can guarantee they’d be begging for more”.

Now it was your turn to laugh at the sheer audacity of these girls. It wasn’t a dainty laugh either, no, it was one that you had to hold your belly because of the ache, drawing other people’s attention from around you. Trying to take a deep breath to gather yourself, wiping away at the corner of your eye to the tears that had gathered there, you could see that your laughing had hit a nerve as both of their girls’ jaws were tensed.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t the part about ownership that had you laughing, in fact, Steve and Bucky had made it more than clear that you had their whole heart but it was the part about begging for more. All it would take was a single look and you knew your boyfriends would be begging for more, to touch your body, to kiss your lips, to hear your moans, these girl's naivety was truly baffling.

Returned to look them both in the eyes, your orbs flicking from one face to another as you returned to your natural calm, words spoken lowly with every ounce of promise that you could muster. “If you touch or even look at either of them again, I’ll break your fucking hands. You don’t know what the fuck I’m capable of”.

Turning on the spot, officially finished with the conversation, not allowing the fear of actually threatening someone to take over and thankfully the girls didn’t shout anything back. This was a small blessing because you were one more word away from upsetting Sam and punching the one closest straight in the throat.

The two bodyguards and more important, Steve and Bucky were watching with expressions you hadn’t really witnessed before. Nat and Sam looked almost proud of you with gleaming eyes and smirks across their faces. Whereas your boyfriends, well from the obvious tents in their suit trousers, there was lust as you’d never seen before, mouths gaped open as you approached them all.

“We’re leaving”, you stated matter of factly.

“Why?”, Bucky asked, his voice soft and he looked almost like he was in a trance.

Catching his eye as you replied, “Because if they look at you like that again, I’m going to fucking kill them both”.

Not waiting for anyone’s reaction, having made the decision for them already, you reached to grab your boyfriend's hands, pulling them with ease as they stayed by your side as you all made towards the exit.

Natasha was by your side in a second to open up the doors for you all, she glanced in your direction, whistling lowly, “I like this side of you, Sugar”.

A heated flush encompassed your body at the compliment but it didn’t falter your steps as Sam now too rushed in front as you all arrived at the large SUV. Sam held open the car door for you as Natasha climbed into the driver's seat, Steve and Bucky following in close behind you and then finally Sam was in the passenger seat.

As soon as you were in the car, you were taking off your heels, needing some freedom from them. Your body was still trembling with anger and adrenaline, not even thinking of normal thoughts as you felt Steve’s warm body slide next to yours into the middle seat, followed by Bucky.

The car was only just starting when you were climbing into Steve’s lap, already having decided this when you had approached those girls, they were your boys, you needed to feel them.

“Baby”, Steve began hands on your body to help as you straddle his lap in the limited room, your leg awkwardly slotting between his thigh and Bucky’s. Any words he was planning on saying were cut off as your face smashed into his, lips moving against his in a bruising manner, almost violently.

Steve kissed you back with just as much passion, one of his vast hands cupping the back of your head and the other hand resting on your hip, helping as you ground your hips against his, the material of your thin dress riding up over your thighs with the movements. The mafia leader groaned deeply into the kiss, especially as your warm, wet tongue slipped into his mouth as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss further.

But you weren’t waiting another minute, pulling back, hand blindly reaching out to Bucky, feeling his rough facial hair beneath your fingertips and pulling him closer just for him to meet your lips as you moved your attention to him.

The car began moving but you didn’t care, or the fact that Natasha and Sam were in the car, they’d already seen the three of you fucking plenty of times before.

As Bucky’s tongue brushed against your lips, you opened yours just as eagerly as you had with Steve, groaning at the taste of him. Your hips continued to rock against Steve, who had moved his sinful mouth to your neck, his teeth nipping along the sensitive skin.

In all honesty, you were not thinking clearly, it was almost like the little devil on your shoulder had taken over your body. All that kept spiralling through your thoughts were those stupid girls’ faces as they looked at your boyfriends. THEY WERE YOURS. You needed to feel them, taste them, hear them, everything you possibly could just to soothe your inner demon, and insecurities, wanting to prove that they only wanted you.

However, as the car continued to move, Steve tried to regain some stability to the moment, his mouth removing from your jaw, “Honey, you need to put your seat belt on”.

Now it was your turn to remove yourself from your boyfriend, lips tingling as you also sucked in air greedily, looking at Steve and not missing a beat as you demanded, “Take out your cock”.

Steve also matched your speed, eyes flicking to the front of the car, “Nat, find somewhere to park right now”. Then his hands were pulling your face back to his, nose squishing against his cheek as he wrapped his two muscular arms around your body, trapping you in almost like you were his seatbelt.

Your own hand was still holding onto the side of Bucky’s head, the brunette was kissing your palm, the sensation tickling your skin and then his lips were wrapping around your thumb and sucking it into his mouth in a highly erotic move that sent heat straight to your cunt.

Pulling back from Steve momentarily and looking at Bucky, admiring the view and the way in which his usually bright blue eyes were almost black in colour with his blown-out pupils. “I want your cock out too”, you requested to Bucky.

“Yes ma’am”, he replied after releasing your thumb, swiftly undoing his belt and zipper, his hips lifting so his suit trousers and boxers could be pushed to his midthigh. His flesh hand automatically wrapped around his length moving steadily up and down to try and ease some of the tension that he was experiencing ever since he saw you stand up to his girls.

Thankfully the car pulled to a stop, Natasha and Sam didn’t waste any time before getting out of the car and you didn’t even check out of the window where they’d stop, only really realising that they’d found somewhere because Steve’s secure arms loosened around you.

This gave him the opportunity to reach for his own zipper but you needed to feel someone now and Bucky was already sitting there looking pretty and ready.

“Too slow”, you teased Steve with a huskier voice than usual as you began to climb over him to straddle Bucky’s lap, lifting your dress further around your hips, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull your underwear to the side and sinking down onto Bucky’s cock.

“Holy fucking shit”, Bucky gasped at your abrasiveness, having never seen you like this before, your pussy walls fluttering as you had to stretch and adjust to his size quickly. Luckily you were already drenched with arousal and need that helped you to slip down his length.

Bucky’s nibble fingers reached for your underwear, easily tearing the material into two and removing it from your person and discarding somewhere in the SUV. With your hands clutching the nape of his neck, fingers teasing the shaved hair as he massaged your hips, both sucking in a deep breath before you seemed to snap out of any restraint you’d been holding back.

As your mouth once again frantically found him, you began to ride him, hard and fast like it was a race to the finish line. The noises he was producing only encouraged your fucking, the vibrations from his moans, seeping into your chest from where it rubbed against his. You were both breathless but didn’t stop the kiss, almost like you were trying to prove a point, which in a way you were, just how far you could go to pleasure him.

The car was shaking with your momentum as you chased Bucky’s high, not your own, you didn’t care about cumming right now, you just wanted Bucky to feel good, needed to see him orgasm.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of air, you finally pulled away, lips swollen slightly and shiny from the shared saliva, the atmosphere warm from being in a contained space, the sweat-coating body of your bodies. Your mouth wasn’t finished with its pleasuring though as you tilted his head back and hungrily kissed and nipped his neck, harder than usual, making sure to leave teeth indents and purple spots.

You were never one to mark up the boys, they always needed to remain professional looking and you did feel slightly like a loved-up teenager frantically fucking in the car but it was just one more way that you could show that he was yours.

“Tell me you’re mine”, you demanded, and his first response was to moan in such a way it was almost pornographic.

“I’m yours”, Bucky responded gruffly, hands squeezing your hips harder. It was your turn to moan, purposefully clenching your cunt around his cock tighter. “Fuck!” Bucky cursed into your ear, his grip now painful and sure to leave bruises beneath the skin but you didn’t care, it was motivating you more. “If you keep this up Doll, I’m gonna cum before we even get home”, he admitted, eyes closed in concentration.

This was like music to your ears, as you pulled back, leaning your forehead against his, your hips still frantically moving up and down. “Good, I want you to cum, right now! Please Bucky”, your voice was pleading to him as once again you squeezed your cunt around him, almost suffocating his length.

“Ah mama- fuck”, Bucky was almost delirious, unable to form a full sentence with how good he felt at that moment. Not only did he get to see you looking fucking sexy as hell standing up to those girls at the party but now you were riding his cock like a woman on a mission.

Your mind was still only on the end goal of him cumming, needing to see the pleasure in his face which was hard with the blurred motion of you riding him but as his mouth gaped open as he released a recognisable little noise that he always did just before he came, you slide of his cock and sat back on his thighs.

Both of your hands quickly wrapped around his soaked, throbbing cock, squeezing tightly and moving up and down at the same speedy space, paying particular attention to his tip, thumb stroking over the underside that was most sensitive.

Bucky looked almost feral, his entire body leaving the seat, lifting your body with it as he shouted, “FUCK! Just…right there! That feels so good!” With the momentum of both of your bodies, as he began cumming, the spurts of white globs shot up both of your bodies, coating his shirt and your dress and you didn’t stop, not until his cock finally stopped throbbing in your hands.

You were both breathing hard, particularly Bucky who looked shocked to the core, his hands releasing their grip on your hips to massage the tender area.

“I’ve never cum that quick before”, Bucky admitted, his head falling back against the headrest.

You felt almost powerful at this revelation, you had done this to him, only your body and words and caused such a reaction.

Glancing over at Steve who was lazily stroking himself, watching with half-lidded eyes, you were nowhere near done, using with an authoritative tone, “Take your clothes off”.

As Steve does as instructed, you leaned in close to Bucky, kissing his puffy lips softly, trying to have a tender moment as he whispered, “I love you”, against your lips.

“I love you too Bucky”, you replied with just as much sparkle in your eyes.

“An I am yours”, he reminded, stroking your cheek briefly as Steve finally settled next to you, now stark naked from head to toe.

Spending amount to appreciate his perfectly sculpted body, the muscles that flexed in the subtle light and the trail of hair that surrounded his red, veiny dick. Your mouth filled with saliva as you wanted nothing more than to wrap your lips around him but there would be time for that later.

With as much grace as you could muster, you climbed back over to Steve, straddling his thick thighs and a thought dawned on you. Realising that this might have been the first time you had been fully clothed whilst both Steve and Bucky were naked and it felt incredibly empowering.

Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip as he admired your beauty, “I like seeing you like this”, he complimented, his breath fanning across your face with the close proximity.

You don’t respond to his praise, knowing that if you did talk it would most likely be a pathetic moan and you needed to keep this persona up so once more, you raised higher on your knees, guiding his cock to your entrance and sank down his length.

Once again, you didn’t want to waste time and began slamming up and down his body, hips rolling with each slap. Now you moaned deeply at the sensation between your legs and at the sight of Steve’s naked chest being covered with smears of Bucky’s cum from where it was still weight on the front of your dress.

Steve’s head dropped back at the feeling of you riding him, exposing the beautiful length of his skin and once again something took over your body, the possessive little demon that wanted to mark and claim him as your own. You sucked a path up the side of his neck, biting harshly on the junction where his shoulder and throat met, making Steve sigh in pleasure.

Against the side of your leg, you could feel Bucky’s slacks rubbing against your skin, still all trying to squish into the back of the car so as you finished leaving a particularly dark purple against Steve’s collarbone, you looked over at Bucky.

“Take your clothes off too”

“Yes, hot mama”.

You loved how they both were doing everything you instructed without a moment's hesitation, only spurring you on more with wanting to see Steve cum just as hard as Bucky had. With your fingers delved into the slightly damp hair at the name of Steve’s neck, you held his head in place, making sure that he watched you ride him.

“I want you to cum too, fill me up with your seed, wanna feel you dripping out of me”. Steve’es eyes rolled to the back of his hearing such dirty words leaving your lips. You did want him to cum inside of you, but not yet but he didn’t need to know that just yet, as mentioned, you were only just getting started.

Steve’s hips suddenly started fucking into your harder, planting his feet firmly onto the car floor so he could push up to meet your movements. “That’s it, I want you to cum Stevie”.

Your boyfriend shouts loudly, enough for anyone nearby to hear, holding your hips down with plans to cum inside your cunt, but once again you managed to roll off just in time, only moving your hands up and down his shaft twice before he's coating the two of your fronts in his white hot seed, much like Bucky.

His body twitches and jolts as he tries to come down from his high before he all but collapses into the seat, looking at you with a dangerous smile, “I thought you said I could cum inside of you”.

Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, you replied in a sultry voice, “You will. You both will”

You’re looking at him and then Bucky. Both naked and there was nothing you wanted more than to carry on the fun games but you needed more space, needing to be out of the cramped car. Steve’s fingers drifted to your upper back, grazing over the zipper of your dress but you stopped his movements by pulling his arms away gently.

“I want to go home”, you explained to his quizzical look.

“We will baby, but I need you to cum first”. The way he said need, had your pussy throbbing more and you were aching to find some relief with your own orgasm but that still wasn’t your priority, still planning to make them both feel good.

“No, I want to go home”, you whisper, looking into Steve's eyes and he gave in almost immediately with a huff at not being able to give you the relief he knew you wanted. Bucky banged against the window as you sat back into your seat beside Steve who helped you to pull your seatbelt over your body, whispering in your ear how much he fucking loved you before pulling his own safety restraint across his naked body.

Now you could look out the window, you saw that Natasha and Sam had parked in a random, dark alleyway in an area you didn’t recognise. The two bodyguards returned to the car and didn’t comment about the lack of clothing or the thick scent of sex in the car, both just casually chatting with each other as the journey home continued.

Steve’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire journey and from the corner of your eye, you could see them both getting hard again which thrilled you massively. Finally, the gates to your home were in sight and then you were bidding your friends/bodyguards a good night and walking into the house.

You were still fully clothed except for your panties and shoes, whereas Steve and Bucky were stark bollock naked, erect cocks bobbing in the air for all of the guards and security to see but they didn’t care, neither did you.

Your steps stopped in the entryway to your home, hearing the soft click as the door shut and the flick of the switch as Steve turned on the overhead light. Glancing around at your home, you breathed in the homely scents and let the familiar setting calm the little nerves that were beginning to push to the forefront of your mind.

You began to feel embarrassed by your out-of-control behaviour, shoulders dropping as the confidence seemed to seep away into the wooden floor below. A solid, warm body stepped into your line of vision, a finger was crooked under your chin to force you to look up into Steve’s eyes which were calm and twinkling with love.

“You know we don’t want anyone else right? I have always, and will always just want you”, Steve spoke softly and earnestly.

“Yeah…Yeah I know”, and you did know this. In fact, it was probably the main reason why you hadn’t cried today and let the anger come over your body. Your boyfriends had gone above and beyond for you, to keep up their affections and remind you daily of your importance to their life, you did not doubt it for a second that these girls were ever truly a threat to your relationship.

Another warm body was touching yours to the right, Bucky now taking control of the direction in which your head pointed whilst also raising his little finger, “Just us until forever right?” Your smile reached your eyes now at his little saying, something he’d recently begun saying when you were feeling doubtful and you were quick to hook your own much daintier little finger around his, squeezing them together.

You still felt somewhat embarrassed by your behaviour though and felt the need to apologise, beginning to form the words, “I’m sor-”.

Steve didn’t want to hear this though, cutting you off with his lips and kissing yours feverishly before pulling back when you were breathless. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for today, I’ve never been so fucking turned on seeing you so possessive and jealous. Like Bucky said in the car, I’ve never cum so quick before”.

“Really?” you ask tentatively, looking up into his face, making sure that he wasn’t just saying this to make you feel better but with the intense way his eyes bore into yours, you knew he was very much telling the truth.

Steve had another way of showing you just how much he meant it though as his fingers slide around your wrist, bringing your hand up to touch just how rock-hard his cock was. “Yes really”.

Your hand circled around his length, moving up and down slowly, feeling the soft skin beneath and the ridges from the veins and a drop of precum forming at the end as you moved up his cock. Steve shuddered at the sensation, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, hips rolling in time with your movements.

You admired him closely, from his parted lips to the rosy hint on his cheeks from his flushed arousal, to the sprinkly purple marks across his throat that you had left earlier in the car. It made you feel powerful. Yes, he was your boyfriend and you saw him every day but knowing that he was also the leader of the Rogers Mafia gang and here he was, shuddering at a simple touch of your hand, it was elating.

Bucky was now desperate for your attention as his lips lowered to the shell of your ear, “Let me make you feel good, wanna taste between your pretty thighs”.

You wanted that too, in fact, you were almost desperate to be touched like that but you also didn’t think you were done just yet with making them feel good so you simply shook your head softly.

Bucky frowned, pulling back to look into your eyes, “Why not Mama?”

“Because I want to make you feel good”.

Your hand was still leisurely wanking off Steve who was breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring before he choked out as your thumb brushed over his tip, “And you have made us feel good, baby”.

Bucky once again pulled your attention as he continued talking, “Seeing you today stand up to those girls like someone had taken over your body, that you were willing to go out of your comfort zone just to stand up to those girls, was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I nearly came over and fucked you in the middle of the party if you didn’t drag us out of there anyway. I know you’re soaking for us Mama, let me make you feel good like you’ve done for us”.

Your thighs rubbed together at his words about fucking you at the party, sort of wishing he had just so you could have seen those girls’ faces but then you would have missed out on the fun in the car. The thought of both of their faces as they climaxed had you reaching for Bucky’s cock, joining in with tossing him off at the same pace as Steve, not quite ready to give in yet.

The brunette’s eyes closed at your touch, sighing as he felt the same tension rolling away as you pumped his cock with your hand. There you were once more, pleasuring both of your boyfriends. Both of whom towered over you, and you could spend a minute admiring the way they let you touch them and the power that you held causing a small smile to form on your face, especially as Steve grunted, hips jerking again.

Even though your hands were aching with how hard you were squeezing them both, your movements became more enthusiastic. Steve and Bucky were so exposed, not even in the living room, just standing in the chilled entryway, being wanked off by you.

They deserved this, you decided. Of course, they did, they always made it their mission to worship your body thoroughly and you wanted to replay the favour.

Your mouth opened as you were about to ask if you could suck them off but you decided against asking, the alcohol buzz had worn off in the car but the adrenaline was enough to keep you thrilled.

“Hands behind your back”, you suddenly demanded, still keeping your voice soft and deciding to try and keep up the control for just a little bit longer. Steve and Bucky were instantly placing their hands behind their backs, their chests broadening and feet spreading a little bit to help their centre of gravity.

Both of their eyes were on you now, the various shades of ocean blue staring down at you, waiting for your next instruction, but you didn’t give them one, instead you dropped to your knees.

There was an audible suck in of breath from men as they watched you descend. The wooden flooring was cold against your knees and you had to rise to your fullest length on them to reach both cocks with the length of their powerful legs. You began with Steve this time, licking the underside slowly, holding his eye contact and tasting the salty goodness of his sweat and cum and even a hint of your own juices from where they’d dried on him.

Kissing the tip of his cock and swirling your tongue around the sensitive area, your one hand gripped his base to stop it from bobbing around, whilst your other hand continued to move along Bucky’s shaft.

You couldn’t help but smile around Steve’s tip as you noticed that his shoulders and upper arms were flexing as he tightened his grip behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to stroke your cheek but he was good and kept his arms behind his back as you moved further down his cock with your mouth.

His girthy dick was heavy against your tongue and as it grazed the back of your throat, stroking the area that was your limit. But you made sure to start slow, now wanting to push yourself too much as you could only take half of his length into your mouth.

“Your mouth is always so good baby girl”, Steve praised, a hint of red flushing across his face with his increasing arousal. You hummed in approval, the ache in your jaw and knees worth it to see him slowly bit by bit losing control.

But then, you’re moving over to Bucky who steps closer instinctively to help you reach him and it was an automatic response for you to praise him, the words whispering across the tip of his cock, “Good boy”.

Bucky let out the smallest whine from the centre of his chest and there were notable goosebumps that spread across his thighs, nipples perking as he shivered with the sensation. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen and you didn’t waste another second before pulling him into your mouth, pleasuring him thoroughly.

You spent your sweet time moving between them both, saliva coating your mouth as they teased to push further down your throat. You were surprised just how well they were following your instructions as well as they both kept in that stance with their arms behind their back, their eyes not moving from yours as you moved from Steve’s cock to Bucky’s and vice versa.

Their sweet moans were so beautiful, especially as you slipped further down to suck a ball or two into your mouth, your tongue lapping against the sack and enjoying the way they hissed at the touch.

“You look so good on your knees like that”, Steve complimented at one point as you sucked your cheeks harshly around Bucky’s dick. Looking up at the blonde man and removing yourself with an audible pop before moving back over to Steve and pleasuring him.

It was fun going from one to the other and being in complete control, knowing you were slightly edging them before going to the next boyfriend. Your knees were starting to hurt more now with how long you had been on the floor but you didn’t let this stop you, contemplating if you should get them to finish in your mouth or a different body part.

It also dawned on you that this was the first time you’d been in charge in any sort of intimate moment, both Steve and Bucky being the definite dominants in the relationship. But in truth, you were enjoying this little role reversal and with how feral you were feeling after the interactions with the girls, you were glad to have the liquid courage in you to go through with it.

However, being this dominant with two powerful men was also slightly tiring, trying to decide what to do next when all you really had planned was that you wanted them to feel good. But you also couldn’t deny just how horny you were, in between your thighs uncomfortable with need and soaked enough it was leaking down your thighs.

As you gagged slightly around Bucky’s cock, you could feel it hardening slightly against your tongue and hand as he grunted, “Please, mama”.

“Please what? Talk to me Bucky”, you encouraged, wanting to hear more sweet words coming from his mouth.

The man shuddered once more as your voice vibrated against the tip of his throbbing cock, and as he opened his mouth, you truly took him in and just how desperate he was. His metal arm was whirring at the shoulder with how much he was holding it back with his normal hand, knowing he wanted nothing more than to hold the back of your head in place or cup your face.

“Say my name again”, he asked breathlessly, eyes closing for a breath second as you smiled up at him, one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Which name?” you teased. “Bucky? Buckaroo?”, with each name, you kissed along the length of his member, still tossing him at the base though for stimulation, the same with Steve. “What name do you want me to use? What about James?” He hissed at this name, cock throbbing more and you made a mental note of this and continued. “What about punk? Barnes?... Good boy?”

Steve’s cock also throbbed in your hand at the last name but it was mostly because Bucky suddenly came and you quickly had to swallow the tip and drink everything he was willing to offer, the substance thick and salty as it slide down your throat.

Bucky’s knees wobbled momentarily, frantically praising your name like a song until the last drop of cum was being sucked out of his member. You made sure to pull off of him fully, not wanting to overstimulate him, amazed slightly as he didn’t soften, it continued to stand up proud between his legs.

Smiling up at Bucky again with accomplishment, you then looked over at Steve, squeezing his length harder as he grunted down his own chiselled body at you readjusting on the wooden floor to remain only facing him, giving him your full attention.

“Are you still comfortable down there?” he asked, licking his lips whilst checking in on you.

Holding his eye contact, you licked his thick tip, nodding to his question. Steve chuckled and then sighed into the stimulation, closing his eyes for a second to savour the feeling before looking down at you with a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t believe you baby”, his voice was full of confidence. In truth, you were very uncomfortable, our knees screaming for some relief from the solid floor but also your pussy was desperate to be touched but you didn’t want to make it about you just yet.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky squatting down to be eye level with you, his arms still behind him, “let us make you feel good”, he asked with hope laced into every word.

Pulling off of Steve, and leaned into his warm thigh, nuzzling into the hair that covered the muscle, “But I want to make you both feel good! You’re my boys and not anyone else’s, it’s my job to make you feel good”.

“And you’ve made us feel good but this goes both ways, you don’t understand just how much I want to be in between your legs right now” Bucky admitted, his eyes wandering over your still-clothed body, his cheeks just as pink-tinged as Steves.

Looking up at the man whose leg you were leaning on, you asked, “What do you think Steve?”, before risking a quick nip to his sensitive thighs with your teeth, admiring the way his cock bounded in the air as he jumped slightly.

Steve’s voice came out in a growl, “I fucking NEED to touch you, even if it’s just a kiss. I need you up and off your knees, I know they hurt and I don’t want you in pain, there’s only so much time I can let you worship me before I get on MY knees and fucking beg to touch you, baby, so please, let us touch you.”

Heat flooded through your body at the intensity at which he spoke, you thought you were desperate, but that seemed to not be as severe as the mental game going on in Steve’s mind right now.

Biting your lip to try and hide your grin, you finally succumbed, “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Do whatever you want to me”.

You weren’t exactly sure who had grabbed you first. All you were aware of were hands picking you up and instant relief for your poor knees and then the sound of ripping as your dress was easily destroyed. Then you suddenly found yourself staring at the ceiling of the living room, the soft material of the couch beneath your now naked spine.

Lips were crashing into yours, a hot body crowding over yours, pushing you further into the cushions, their lips completely dominating yours. Matching the urgency in which they moved, you felt the rough scrap of facial hair and could taste Bucky, smiling into the kiss as your fingers gently ran over his body, spending extra seconds of love over the scars that he’d accustomed during his life.

As you opened your mouth to moan, Bucky’s tongue swallowed the noise, not relenting with his movements. You were so lost in the body hovering over yours that you were unsure as to where Steve was until you could feel him on one of your legs, kissing the sore knee cap, massaging the area before straightening your leg, and then circling around to the back of the couch to do the same with the other leg.

The relief was unbelievable at being able to extend your legs fully now but there was even more relief as Bucky began to explore your body, sucking on each of your nipples greedily, an action you watched closely. With each in further down your body, he made sure to lick and kiss every area of skin in his path, leaving the skin tingling with arousal.

Both of your legs were then being pushed towards your chest, giving Bucky the perfect view of your cunt, presented to him like it was dinner and with the hungry way in which he was admiring you, you knew that was basically what had been offered to him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he praised, kissing your inner thigh. Steve then sat next to your head, finally able to stroke the pad of his thumb across your cheek, something he had been internally begging to do since getting home and seeing you drop to your knees.

“We’re always just yours”, Steve reminded you, needing the tender moment.

“I’m always going to be yours too”, you responded with love before glancing down at Bucky who was watching with a softened look in his eyes, “and I’m always going to be yours as well,” Bucky mumbled the words back to you, his warm breath teasing the wet area soaking your cunt. Glancing down his body, you caught sight of his cock, still fully erect and pulsating. “How are you still hard?” you asked honestly, he’d already cum twice and hadn’t softened a single bit.

Bucky smirked at your question with quiet arrogance, “I’m always hard for you”. As soon as he finished his sentence, his tongue was pushing into your folds, tasting everything you had to offer. He didn’t bother with teasing, immediately delving his warm muscle into your cunt a few times, before finding your clit and rolling it around with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

Your moans were animalistic and finally had some stimulation after being horny for what felt like hours. Steve’s fingers drifted over your lips as he admired your pleasured expressions, just like you had been doing to the two of them.

“Kiss me. Now!” you demanded urgently.

“Yes, ma’am”. He was leaning down without hesitation and you realised just how much you’d missed his lips since coming home, feeling the freshly shaved cheeks against yours that were such a different sensation to Bucky’s facial hair. They were both so different and yet so similar and they were both yours.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to have you clenched your thighs around his head, frantically feeling the orgasm building in your core. A couple of minutes of clit stimulation from Bucky’s tongue and two fingers grazing over your tender spot within your hole and you were cumming with heavy breaths and moans.

Steve pulled away from the kiss to watch your pleasure, and also allowed Bucky to hear your unfiltered moans, then you were heavily breathing, hands falling onto the couch with relief of finding your peak.

Steve drops to his knees beside the couch so he can whisper into your ear, “I’m going to take you upstairs, lie you in the middle of our bed and I’m going to fuck you until you’re full of my cum. Then after I’m dripping out of you, Bucky here is going to do the exact same thing. This night isn’t ending until you’re full of both of us”.

You’re pathetically mewling at his words, reaching for him and he quickly scoops you up into his arms. You knew your dominant persona was slowly fading as they both scrambled to make you feel good and you didn’t mind that as much, wanting what he said he was going to do, more than anything else in the world.

As the three of you enter your bedroom and Bucky turns on the side lights, you realised you were nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck where you’d left the scattering of marks. Stroking a finger over the bruised skin, you whispered, “So pretty”.

Steve smirks at your words, liking the thought of you marking him to show that he was yours. Laying you back into the centre of the bed, Steve is quickly on top of you with as much urgency as Bucky had downstairs on the couch.

Hiking your legs up and around his waist as his face dropped to hide into your neck, he's pushing his pulsing cock into your quivering cunt. You were thankful that he didn’t wait, wanting your bodies to be moulding together, his hips slapping into yours and his mouth was now moving against your neck, sucking and biting to match the moves you’d been doing in the car.

You could feel just how possessive and frantic his touches were, reciprocating how you had felt and it only made your heart beat harder, moan louder and hips rocking faster to try and match his dominant pace.

“You’re mind”, he suddenly grunts, against your lips, biting your lower lip and letting it snap back a second later. Sitting up slightly on his knees, he holds your jaw firmly in his grip, making you watch him as he shifted his angle up, hitting directly into your g-spot and he moved with such speed that all you could do was hold onto his wrist and scream out his name.

Your orgasm had you seeing stars, cunt desperately squeezing in pulses around Steve’s cock, so tightly that he too couldn’t hold back as he came, pushing his length all the way in so you could milk him properly, your walls convulsing in time with his throbs. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his cum filling you up and as he pulled up, some of it spilling out and running down your perineum.

Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, pushing your legs apart, and watching his cum at your entrance. “There’s my best girl”, he praised, reaching down with a finger to scoop the drips that had escaped and attempting to push them back inside of your body before moving out of the way for Bucky.

Bucky was more than ready to fill you up, helping to turn you onto your side, sliding an arm under your head and resting your leg up on his hip as he spooned in behind you. Much like Steve, Bucky didn’t waste any time before sliding in, the two of you moaning at the sensation of having Steve’s cum there, it causing extra squelching noises.

Your tits bounded on your chest with each fuck of Bucky’s hips into yours, his mouth attack your neck with just as much aggression as Steve who was now sitting and watching the two of you with a content smile.

You were absolutely fucked out of your mind both from emotions and physically being exhausted, a faint hum settling in your mind and body.

“You’re doing so well for us, Sweet Mama”, Bucky praised against your cheek as he reached down your body to roll your clit in circles to match the rhythm of his pounding hips. The stimulation was almost too much but it was also exactly what you needed as you held onto his arm desperately moaning out his name.

“Buc-Bucky… gonna cum”.

“Cum for me then Doll, want you to cum on my cock, so pretty when you cum”. His praises were like magic for your cunt, as it squeezed tightly in arousal. Those, matched with his tight hold on your body, his fingers playing with your clit and cock fucking you hard, you easily found your pleasurable high.

He didn’t stop, chasing his own orgasm which you were glad about, reaching down to grab the hand between your legs, your clit becoming a little sensitive now so you bought his hand up to your face and nuzzled into his palm.

“Mine”, you mumbled, feeling a little bit subspacey now.

“Yours, all yours, only yours, FUCK!” Bucky felt like he was in heaven as his thrusts stuttered slightly as he finally found his release, pumping his hot seed into your core. Your eyes were struggling to stay open with how exhausted you felt, but you watched as Steve approached, just in time for Bucky to slip out of your raw cunt.

“How beautiful does she look?” Bucky asked Steve as he held up your leg. Steve’s eyes cleaned as he looked at the mess between your legs, both his and Bucky’s cum were leaking from your hole, mixing with your own juices.

“So fucking beautiful”, Steve whispered lightly, kissing your ankle.

Your eyes closed fully now, sighing into the mattress as Bucky kissed your cheek one more time before untangling himself from your body. It was Steve who was touching your body next but this time with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning in between your legs but cum continued to trickle out so he just left it at that, discarding the material and moving to the top of the bed, dragging you easily along with him until you were laid out on his chest.

You felt happy and content as Bucky joined you both in the bed, watching as Steve turned on the TV attached to the wall. Distantly, you could hear Bucky and Steve discussing what take out order to get, making sure to get everything you would usually get and saying they would wake you once it was there, you needed a rest.

Your heart swelled with love, happy to be surrounded by two men that absolutely adored you and no other stupid girls were going to ever change that.

#mafia au #mafia!stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #bucky x reader #marvel smut #marvel oneshot #mine*#request

2K notes · View notes

deathbyhertouch · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024 list

all of these will be shorter fics, as i need multiple days for the normal longer fics i usually do

characters will be a surprise! as i think it will be fun!

I will update links to each post as i release them

hope you enjoy!!

day 1: squirting Phoebe Bridgers x f!reader

day 2: bondage Katie Gavin x gn!reader

day 3: mirror Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

day 4: hair pulling Hope Van Dyne x f!reader

day 5: free use Sasha James x afab!reader

day 6: public Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

day 7: threesome Emily Prentiss x f!reader x Jennifer Jereau

day 8: milf!reader x daughter’s girlfriend Milf!reader x Daughter's Girlfriend! Jo Maskin

day 9: dirty talk Basira Hussain x gn!reader

day 10: sex pollen Yelena Belova x f!reader

day 11: creampie (g!p) Julien Baker x f!reader

day 12: power Agatha Harkness x gn!reader

day 13: spanking/impact play

day 14: corruption

day 15: somnophilia

day 16: sloppy/ spit

day 17: praise

day 18: thigh riding

day 19: cockwarming (g!p)

day 20: hate fuck

day 21: perversion

day 22: lactation

day 23: choking

day 24: uniform

day 25: food

day 26: monsterfucker

day 27: deity

day 28: pantysniffer

day 29: sex toy

day 30: breeding

day 31: body worship/aftercare

fandoms that will be included for this (please comment if you want another one included)

-boygenius

-criminal minds

-muna

-brooklyn 99

-marvel

-detroit become human

-the magnus archives

107 notes · View notes

crazyinlovewithbucky · 1 year ago

Text

"Who would've thought I'd get you?"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!witch!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky were both in Wakanda at the same time. He was getting the winter soldier out of his head and trying to find his peace and his old self there and you were getting rid of your demons and fighting your dark self who consumed you after reading the dark hold. You both found peace and familiarity in each other's company and got really close to each other. After healing and leaving Wakanda, you lived in Brooklyn and got closer to each other until your relationship escalated and took a very interesting turn.

Warnings: angst, fluff, infinity war, and endgame events, living in Wakanda, mentions of the blip, mentions of therapy, friends to lovers, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, making out, use of sergeant and doll, sub to dom to sub reader, dom to sub to dom Bucky, creampie, breeding kink, magic used on Bucky, magic handcuffs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, manipulating(?), very horny Bucky, very very horny reader, sexting, sending nudes, mentions of oral (m receiving), soft!dom Bucky, aftercare.

This smut was inspired by the song Get You by Daniel Caeser (feat. Kali Uchis)

AU/N: Hey guys, I just want to confess that I can't stop thinking about this fan art of Bucky so I decided to write a smut inspired by it. I found the picture on Pinterest so credit to the artist @daxramires on twitter and tumblr. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and I'd like to remind you that English isn't my first language so excuse me if I misspell or mispronounce anything. Enjoy <3.

"I don't know how I could've survived this time without you by my side," Bucky whispered in your ears while you were sitting by the bonfire, surrounded by trees and fields in Wakanda. It was very late in the night, and everyone was asleep, even the goats and cows. It was just you and him, eating roasted corn and talking under the full-of-stars sky of the night. You looked at him and smiled. He was very beautiful with that thick beard of his and his grown, long, and silky hair. And oh, his gazing, shiny blue eyes.

"I don't know how I could've survived without you too, Bucky. You are stronger than you think you are. Always the guy I could lean on and trust blindly." He smiled at your words, took your hands in his, and kissed you deeply. Kissing each other was nothing new to you both, as you got so much closer to each other during this dark time you both are having when you're trying to heal and fight off your demons.

His demons were his past, the winter soldier and all of those years spent locked and frozen, missing out on everything in life. Your demons were actual demons you accidentally summoned while your soul, heart, and mind were being consumed by the dark-hold. That book taught you everything about dark magic, and as a result, you became the most powerful witch of all time, or as you thought you were until you met the Scarlet Witch herself one day and had one of the deadliest fights ever. Lucky for you, she pitied you and wanted to help, so she talked to her team, the very famous Avengers, savers, and protectors of the earth. They decided to help you, and there was no better place to get rid of your demons than the place of peace, happiness, and kind people. Wakanda.

Shauri introduced you to Bucky and told you he was here too to heal, just like you. Your rooms or your huts were next to each other. He was the first one you saw when you woke up and the last one you saw before you went to sleep. You shared everything together. Food, clothes, water, treats, and even the same chores, and when your therapeutic healing sessions got tough on both of you, you always found comfort in each other's arms. That's how you both started kissing and hugging each other, as a way to ground one another and remind yourselves that you have each other.

But kissing each other didn't just occur after bad news or feeling depressed. It occurred after good news and after feeling happy. You didn't know back then in Wakanda what kind of relationship you both had, but it was a beautiful one, and you didn't want to ruin it if you labeled it or asked him if you were just friends or more. You thought to yourself that maybe you were just a part of his healing path, and you were nothing more than a person who helps him get on his feet again, and as soon as he does, he'll leave and start living his life. You wouldn't hate him if he did, and as much as you loved him, you learned how to keep a distance sometimes, just not to get too attached and have high expectations. You kept reminding yourself that you were here to heal and not break your heart more than you should.

After the whole healing journey, you both couldn't make your dreams come true of going to New York and having an apartment there together and for you to start writing again and achieving your dream of becoming a published writer, and he took an interest in photography, especially when you got him a film camera for his birthday and he started taking very beautiful photos of the nature there, of the kids running and helping their fathers in the fields, and of course he took various photos of you, making food, taking care of the goats, lying next to the lake, smiling and trying to push the camera away, washing your hair, and using your magic to lift a very big pile of hay.

Steve came and told you about the fight with Thanos and how you all need to defend Earth, and there might be a chance of no one coming back. You and Bucky were in disbelief; maybe you were more than him and felt anxious. He pulled you away from the team and everyone and took you to your favorite apple tree. He talked and calmed you down, told you everything was going to be okay, and he would never leave your side. And if everything goes downhill, you'll forever remain in his heart, whether he's dead or alive. You both kind of said goodbye to each other, embraced each other, shared a very deep and passionate kiss, cried a little, and said I love you for the first time to each other.

During the fight, you were still protecting each other. You were fighting with each other as a team; he was killing and shooting any alien who got a little bit closer to you, and with your magic, you were dodging their arrows and weapons that got thrown at him. Until the moment in which Thanos killed Vision and you saw Wanda crying and mourning him. You sat by her side, hugged her tightly, and cried with her. Until you felt total silence and everyone started fading away. In a panic, you ran and searched for Bucky. You found Steve, and you were in the middle of asking him if he saw Bucky or not. Bucky came from behind some bushes and said yours and Steve's names. You blinked, and he wasn't there anymore. Just dust flying away. You felt strange. You looked at Steve with burning teary eyes, and his eyes were filled with horror and confusion as he looked at you. You couldn't understand why. He held you and shouted your name as you looked at your hand and found yourself turning into dust and fading away too. You whispered his name in concern, and then everything went black.

After you woke up, you found King T'Challa getting you up on your feet and telling you, Let's go; they're waiting for us to fight. You didn't understand anything. One second later, Steve was shouting your name, and your hands were turning into dust. The other, King T'Challa, was holding you up and guiding you into a gold ring portal to another place. You couldn't find Bucky anywhere until you felt someone hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear, "I'm here doll. Let's get this over with so that we can get that apartment in Brooklyn as we promised." You cried, turned to him, and kissed him deeply.

"I thought I'd lost you," you cried, and you hugged him tightly.

"Never." He hugged you back and whispered in your ear, "I promised you, I'd never leave you." He pulled back again and kissed you. "Now, be a good girl for me and kill those sons of bitches. Make me proud." You giggled at him with teary eyes and nodded.

Of course, after a huge and deadly fight, you won. It took you both more time to heal from that, especially after knowing it's been 5 years since the fight in Wakanda and that Wakanda suffered a big loss, so they cannot take you both in at the moment and they need to rebuild their country again. So you both got back to New York and started seeing therapists. You both were shaken up by what had happened and decided it'd be a big step for you both to live with each other now, so you wanted to take one step at a time.

You were there for each other still, you lived very close to one another and even shared each other's apartment keys. Most of the time you were at each other's places, hanging out, cooking, and watching TV. But there always was a big sexual tension between you both. From him more because he didn't have sex for almost 80 years now and he was dying every time he saw because he just wanted to rip all of your clothes off and fuck you till you both can't breathe anymore. He was very attracted to you in ways, you can't even imagine. There was this one time he came by to your house, opened the door with the extra key you gave him and he saw you in the kitchen wearing an apron while washing the dishes and he almost came in his pants from this sight alone. Later that evening, he fucked his fist at the thought of you being his housewife, wearing that same apron, and he's fucking his cum into your cunt on the countertop.

You both were watching Scarface in your apartment, cuddling on your couch. Bucky was trying his hardest to focus on the movie, not the way your arms were wrapped around him and your left leg was resting on his leg with your head on his shoulder. He was having a fight with himself, as he didn't want his erection to be visible from under his pants so that you wouldn't get disgusted or creeped out by him. Then the line, "The eyes, chico. They never lie." came on.

You mumbled, "I guess this is true." then looked at him deeply.

He smiled and asked, "Why?"

"I believe that eyes can speak all the words and say all the things we bury in our hearts." Your gaze kept going from his eyes to his mouth, and vice versa. You found his pupils dilating until there was only a sin blue round line of his iris. You bit your lips at him, hinting that you need him too, hoping that he shares the same feelings as you, and you were almost certain he does as you noticed the tent forming in his pants and thought that maybe he does need you as much as you need him.

You were right because you found yourself suddenly underneath him as he started devouring your mouth and neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Your tongues were fighting each other for dominance, and he was kissing you like there was no tomorrow. You'd die if he stopped. He started humping his hardened erection into your clothed cunt, and both of you were moaning at the movement and friction happening. He took off your t-shirt and found you not wearing a bra. "Fuck, doll. Are you trying to kill me?" He groaned before attacking your boobs with bites and kisses. He kept sucking and kissing your nipples, making all sorts of sounds and groans. His hips never stopped humping you.

You were cut out of your trance by a phone ringing. You both panted, and he took the phone out of his back pocket, it was Sam with a 911 next to his name. This was Sam's number for emergencies; if he called from this number, then it was an emergency. "Fuck, it's Sam from his 911 number." He said it out of breath, then pulled away from you and sat back on the couch, trying to calm himself and steady his breath. You sat next to him, covered your exposed chest with your arm, and tried to breathe normally too. He looked at you with a smirk, leaned his head forward toward yours, and kissed you deeply.

He answered the call, and Sam started talking right away. While Bucky was listening to Sam, you decided to tease him a little and sat on his lap, pushed him back to lean on the couch, and started grinding on him while kissing his cheek and neck. He groaned and held your hip with his left arm as he was holding the phone to his ear with the other and kept moving you on his crotch. His eyes widened a bit as Sam heard his groans and asked Bucky what he was doing. "Ahhh, nothing. It's just a headache. Go on." He smirked at you. You giggled and kept grinding yourself slowly on him as he took your right boob in his hand and started massaging it and pinching your nipple. You tried your best to hide and muffle your moans, but some were getting out involuntarily.

"Okay. Got it. See you in 10." He said this before hanging up the phone with Sam, and as soon as he did, he flipped you both over and kissed you hungrily.

"Excuse me? "See you in 10"? Please tell me it's in 10 hours," you whined, wrapping your legs and arms around him, not wanting him to leave.

"Sorry, doll. It's urgent. Some Hydra scientists were caught in Prague, and they need me to make them confess where their headquarters are now. It won't take long, I swear. I'll make sure to get back as soon as possible to finish what we started here." He mumbled against your mouth and kept pecking your lips and kissing you between his words. You found it extremely difficult now to say goodbye to him after what you both just shared and had. But he had to go, and you understood that, so you let him go, and he promised to get back to you as soon as possible and in one piece.

While he was away, you couldn't stop texting each other all the time, and your conversation and texts got more sexual. It started out simple: I need you so bad right now. I imagine you lying naked on my bed. I want to kiss you. Then, step by step, you found yourself taking naked pictures of yourself and sending them to him, and he was finding any excuse to go to the bathroom and fuck his fist while looking at your pictures and texting you how much he wants to bury his cock in your cunt and how badly he wants to taste you. Your texts, video calls, and pictures you sent to each other were what made you able to endure the pain of him being away.

You woke up one day and whined when you realized he was not here yet, and you didn't know when he was coming back. He said it wouldn't take long, but it's been a week, and you were going crazy. You had a meeting with the rest of the team in the Avengers Tower, so you took a shower to cool yourself down, got dressed, and went there. Throughout the whole meeting, you couldn't stop thinking about Bucky and the various positions and places you'd make love and fuck on. You've never wanted anyone like that before. You couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, his lips, his collarbones, his strong muscular arms, his thick thighs, and his hard cock. You've been humping your pillow, imagining it was his cock. You miss him. You miss his touches, his kisses, his hugs, his bites, and his smile. You found yourself distracted and closing your legs tightly, trying to ease some of the pain and need growing between your legs. Unfortunately, the day was very long and tiring. Tony and Fury had the whole team training and researching for the new big mission in Europe, as during those 5 years, Hydra built itself again and was planning to cause World War 3. So it was in your hands to stop them before they even began. Of course, you were highly distracted that day and couldn't focus on training or researching. You had your butt kicked multiple times by Yelena as she was screaming at you to focus. You were finally able to breathe when you left and got into a cab, taking you home.

In the cab, you texted Bucky, "I've had a bad day, and I'd like to suck your dick to feel better." You smiled to yourself at the vulgar text you just sent, but you both were used to this way of talking now. You hid your feelings and need for each other for too long now, so you felt like you had to make up for all this time of repressed feelings.

He replied instantly, "Trust me, sucking my dick would just make it worse," with a winky emoji next to it. You giggled and texted him that you miss him so much and can't wait to see him. The ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn took too long, obviously, so Bucky and his usual teasing nature asked you to tell him what you wanted him to do to you when he got back. You smirked and told him everything you'd been daydreaming about today and how you wanted him to touch you and fuck you on every surface in your apartment. How much did you want to feel his tongue and mouth on your clit. How much you wanted to ride his face. How much you wanted to cockwarm him and feel his cock so deep inside you while he buries his tongue in your throat.

You found yourself closing your legs tighter and rubbing your thighs together. You were desperate for any friction, but more desperate for his touch. You got a notification that he sent you a picture. You opened it quickly and found a live photo of him stroking his cock while the head leaked on his lower stomach. You could hear him grunting in the background. You bit your lip, closed your eyes, and tried to breathe normally. You couldn't wait till you get home and play with your favorite toy after facetiming him and seeing him fuck his fist at the thought of you.

Eventually, you arrived at your apartment building. You paid the cab driver and rushed upstairs to your place. You opened the door quickly and headed inside. You started to rip and take all your clothes off while heading to your bedroom; you were only in your underwear now, and as soon as you opened your bedroom door and entered it, you were faced with a very naked Bucky on the bed that's now full of red rose petals. You gasped at the sight before you.

He smirked. "Welcome home, doll." You couldn't believe your eyes—you had to blink twice to make sure this was real and actually happening. "I missed you so much. Come here." He sat himself up on his elbows and gave you a devilish smirk. You noticed his phone on the pillow next to him. This motherfucker has been texting me and sending me pictures of his dick while he was naked on my bed all this goddamn time, you thought to yourself. I'm going to fucking kill him.

You ran and jumped on the bed, on him. He caught you and held you by the waist and pulled you down to him. He pressed his lips against yours harshly while he was tearing and ripping off your bra and panties. Your bare, soaked cunt was touching his hardened cock. This feeling of him making contact with you down there made you pull away and moan loudly. You craved more of this feeling so you started rubbing yourself on him and grinding down. He held your hips and made you move faster. "Fuck. I miss you so much" He panted and lifted his head up and started sucking and kissing your boobs. He buried his face between them and started leaving kisses and marks in the space between them.

"No, Sergeant." Using your magic, you pulled his hands away and handcuffed him with bright red magical strings to the bedpost. He was very confused. "You didn't tell me that you were coming today or that you're here, in my bed, playing with yourself like some horny teenager while I was having a shitty day full of meetings and training which I could've not attended if you told me you were coming."

"I'm sorry, baby. I wanted to surprise you." He pouted his lips in an attempt to make you forgive him.

"Nope. Not working on me, Barnes." You raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Now, what's going to happen is that you'll watch me fuck myself on your cock and you won't get to come." He gasped and was about to start protesting but you muffled him with makeshift tape on his mouth that you created with your magic. "Tap on the bed twice with your leg if you want me to stop at any time, okay baby?" You said before kissing his cheek and he nodded. You smiled at him and at how he was okay with you being in control.

You lifted your hips up, grabbed his cock, and started rubbing and moving it between your folds, then lined it up with your entrance. You sat down on it slightly, taking it inch by inch. You cried out at the burning sensation you felt from being stretched out like that. Bucky was big. The biggest you've ever had, but you just wanted him badly enough to even think about him not fitting, so you took your time to adjust. You sat down until he was fully buried in you. You can hear his muffled groans and see how his chest is rising up and down. His eyes were locked on where your bodies were connected. You lifted yourself slowly to make him see the base of his cock soaked with your juices, and his muffled groans became louder and his hips started lifting upwards involuntarily. He wanted to keep it buried inside of you and wanted to feel your hot, soaking walls being wrapped around his achy, hard length. He kept fucking and thrusting his hips upwards, fucking into you, and you let him. You started lifting yourself up and down on him and riding him. Until you both found a steady, fast pace and kept going.

Your moans and screams were uncontrollable at this moment, and you could see he was suffering with these restraints you had on him and how he was squirming his hands and arms, trying to get loose and touch you. You removed that makeshift tape from his mouth, and he was a groaning mess. "Fuck, dolly. Let me kiss you, please. I want to taste you." He whined, and his eyes were very hazy, with dilated pupils and nothing but pure lust in them. You leaned in and kissed him passionately. It was like he had been waiting for this moment, and he started to devour your lips and tongue with his like a man starving. All of that while fucking up into you harder and faster than before. You choked on a gasp, and he never stopped any of his movements or his kissing. You knew that he was trying to distract you from your decision to not let him come. You pulled away quickly, pushed his hips down, and sat on him, not moving while he was still buried deep.

"You sneaky motherfucker." You said, out of breath.

He leaned his head back, and his cheeks were burning red while he was breathing hard, almost panting. "Baby, please. I can't take it anymore. It hurts so bad down there." He looked at you with teary eyes.

"Fuck it, are you crying now, Barnes? It's been only 10 minutes, and you're crying? I haven't even come yet." You felt like you took it too far with him, but he didn't tap his leg as you told him, so you decided to take it easier on him a little and removed the handcuffs.

As soon as you removed them, everything turned around, and you found yourself in a millisecond underneath him with your legs spread out and lifted all the way to your shoulders as he split you in half while his cock was still nestled deep down in your hole.

"Remember when I told you I'm such a good actor? I wasn't lying." He smirked at you before pulling his cock all the way out and thrusting so hard inside you again that you were pushed back into the bed from how hard it was. He kept fucking you with very long, deep, hard strokes like that. You forget all about your dominance over him and your promise to not let him come. Little did you know that he would let you decide when he could come because he didn't want to make you break your promise, knowing that if he granted you that, you'd grant him whatever he wanted. And boy, did he want a lot!

From how deep and good he was thrusting and fucking into you, your mind was filled with white noise. Your mouth was in an O shape, and nothing but silent screams and gasps came out. He leaned in and rested his forehead on yours as he was looking down at the way his cock was disappearing inside of you. "Look at that, dolly. Look how good you're taking me! You're meant for me, baby. Meant to take my dick like that. You fit me so well." You gasped and moaned at his words, and as you were very close to coming, he snaked his hand down and started rubbing quick circles on your clit. Everything turned white for you as you found yourself gushing your orgasm around his cock. You were crying out so loudly as he kept fucking you through your orgasm; you swore you almost went blind from the pleasure he was giving you.

He stopped and flipped you over on your stomach, he put a pillow beneath your hips to give more access to your holes. You whined at the loss of stuffiness in your hole, he moved down and mumbled against your cunt, "Need to clean this beauty up, dolly. You made a big mess." He started eating you out like you were his last meal. Sucking your clit between his lips, licking you in long strokes from your clit up to your puckered back hole, spreading your folds with his tongue and lapping on the new juices gushing from your hole. You were squirming already from the overstimulation so he held your hips tightly and pushed you down again, making sure his mouth never left your sweet cunt. He kept moaning and mumbling words you couldn't hear but it was sending a lot of vibrations and that made you come again all over his mouth. You were panting and a moaning mess. He didn't stop until he cleaned your fresh wave of white liquid then he pulled away, ran his thumb between your folds, "Wish you could see how swollen and red this pussy is, dolly. It's my pussy, now." He pushed his thumb inside your hole while his fingers circled and rubbed your clit. You were crying out loud and squirming again from the overstimulation, you can sense your pulse in your clit, and with his finger, he could sense it too. "So sensitive for me, right doll? So sensitive, sweet, and all mine." He pulled his thumb out of your hole and kissed it, leaving kisses and kitten licks all over your cunt till he reached your clit and sucked it roughly. "I think this is my new hobby now." He licked your clit and moved his head from side to side while doing so.

You screamed from the overstimulation he was causing you, "E-Enough Bucky. C-Can't take it anymore." You whimpered and squirmed again.

"It's never enough with you, doll." He kneeled behind you and noticed that wet and sticky spot his cock made from all the precum leaking from him. He slowly pushed his cock inside you again and started to fuck you slowly. You were in another universe by now. Feeling so high and dizzy from all the pleasure and stimulation. He picked up a pace and started thrusting faster and harder, making sure he hit all your sweet spots. He felt how heavy his balls were and just wanted to empty them all out inside you. He was desperate to come at this point.

"Dolly, please, can I come? It really hurts, baby. I need to fill you up, pretty please." leaned down and whimpered in your ears. And you were so glad he still gave you the upper hand and didn't let you break your promise. His thrusts were getting sloppier and messier. "Please, baby, I can't hold it any longer." He grunted and bit your shoulder.

"Come for me, Bucky. Fill me up." You whimpered and could feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm.

"Only if you came with me too." He groaned and started rubbing and slapping your clit roughly to throw you off the edge faster. His stimulation not only threw you off the edge, but you found yourself squirting your orgasm out and clenching your walls on his cock like crazy. He cried out loudly and spurted his orgasm so deeply inside you. You could feel his hot white liquid filling you up to the max, and you thought he would stop and be still inside now, but he was fucking everything back inside. You almost forgot that he was a super soldier, and that's why he had this much stamina.

You both lay still on the bed, catching your breaths. You felt him pulling out slowly and then lying next to you. He turned to face you, ran his fingers through your hair, and played with it softly. "A bath or a shower?" He asked you with a smile. You smiled back and told him you'd like to have a bath. He got up, went to the bathroom, got a wet small towel, and cleaned you both up first. Then he went to the bathroom again and prepared the bath. You went through your closet and prepared fresh and clean clothes for you and Bucky. Even though you were very close friends before, you always kept each other's clothes in both of your houses, just in case. He called out for you from the bathroom, and you went to find him in the tub waiting for you. You smiled, went in, and sat in front of him, leaning yourself on his chest as he hugged you tightly.

In the rest of the evening, you both discussed your relationship and decided that you should start dating for real now. You wondered why you both didn't take that step a long time ago since both of you share the same feelings for each other. Little did you know, that would be the start of an amazing relationship after an amazing friendship. And that would be the man you spent the rest of your life with. He was your soulmate.

fin

898 notes · View notes

ravenromanova · 1 year ago

Text

Too close

Pairings: Ghostface Bucky x Female reader (I got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone that made a scream poster of bucky as ghostface and i died and i also read a natasha ghostface fic and it was so good and i thought why not make one of bucky!) This is the fic that inspired this, by @abbyromanoff you can run but you cant hide

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, SMUT 18+!!!!! Mask kink, knife play, Blood kink, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, unprotected sex (Bucky and the reader have sex in another room from an unalived person) (My darkest fantasies are coming out to play here sue me) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!

Summary- Bucky doesn’t like it when people get too close to his girl. What happens when you figure out why everyone you talk to suddenly dies. Will you run?

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!

“This just in another the mysterious serial killer known as ghostface has claimed another victim. 22 year old Jordan Rodriguez was found in her new york apartment with 50 stab wounds. She was found by her roommate Janice after she came home from work. Officers haven’t given many details as to if they are any leads into who this killer could be. But they have advised everyone within the brooklyn area to be inside by 8pm to limit any risks.” The nightly news reporters vice echos through your apartment as you watch through hooded eyes.

This was the fifth person this week to die a brutal death and not to mention you seem to have had an interaction with everyone that has died. Fear floods your veins as your head runs a thousand miles and hour and what this could mean. Is someone out to hurt you? Do you have a stalker who is killing everyone you know to get you alone? Are you next? That’s all you can think about before your thoughts are cut off by the front door opening.

You shriek and jump off the couch and run to the kitchen to grab whatever knife you can. You decide to duck behind your island with the knife as you hear footsteps walk in. The footsteps are heavy yet soft as the approach you. It’s not until the figure comes closer to you that you jump in front of them and attempt to stab them but they catch your hand.

“Woah they’re tiger” The voice says and you drop the knife once you realize who it is. You flick on the kitchen light before walking over to him and throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

“I’m sorry jamie” You apologize to your boyfriend and he just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay babydoll, but what has you so freaked out?” He asks looking at your with eyes of concern.

You sigh as you look at him before you decide to tell him what’s wrong. “The news- They said another person has been killed…A-And i knew the person who was killed, Ive known all the people who’ve died this week! What-what if someone is out to hurt me? What i-if i- die?” Your voice breaks as you speak your fears. He looks at you and brings you in for another hug.

“Oh babydoll it’s going to be okay im sure it’s nothing” He said calmly as she stroked your back and kissing the top of your head.

You sighed as you looked at him while you nodded your head. Maybe you were just being paranoid you thought, maybe this is just one big coincidence and you’ll be fine. Yea… you’ll be fine.

“Yea maybe you’re right” You didn’t sound too convinced with your own words but you try to shake off the feeling that something bad is happening.

“Come on babydoll lets get you into bed so you stop overthinking in that pretty little head of yours” His voice is so soft and sweet as he takes your hand in his and walks you two to the bedroom. When the both of you enter the room he tells you to lay down and then goes to get something. Thirty seconds later he comes back with your favorite blanket and stuffed animal and slides in bed next to you.

That night the two of you cuddle and have cute little conversations that help ease your overthinking. You fell asleep with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was panicking since he stepped foot into the apartment. He thought he had been caught when you attempted to stab him but luckily for him you were as clueless as ever.

~one week later~

You sighed as you watched the news and they reported the 8th murder in two weeks. And very unfortunately for you, you had known the persons who died…just like the rest of them. That really didn’t help with the overthinking that’s for sure.

It was around 4am when you decided to turn off the tv and head to bed. Your brows furrowed when you realized Bucky wasnt home yet. You thought maybe he had gotten an overnight shift at the garage but normally he tells you that. You decided to check ‘find my friends’ since it kinda worried you that he wasnt home.

When his location showed that he was at an apartment complex your heart sank. A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you threw some sweats on, grabbed your keys and headed out the door to find your boyfriend.

The whole car ride you were full of anxiety and your brain wouldn’t shut up. Once you pulled up to the complex you quickly ran to the car not in the mood to play around if he was fucking someone else. You followed the gps and walked right up to the front door but you noticed it was open slightly. So what did you do? You walked right into the dark apartment despite not knowing who or what you’d find.

But what you did find sent bile to your throat. There was a figure dressed in all black standing over who you thought was your boyfriend with a knife in their hand.

“BUCKY!” You screamed as you ran over to the body on the floor. It wasnt until you got up close that you realized that the person wasnt Bucky…It was the barista that served you your coffee this morning. Your thoughts ran wild as you mumbled incoherent words under your breath.

But those were quickly cut off once your heard the masked figured laughing. You whipped your head around and stared at the figure in horror.

“Oh Kotenok you’re so precious” The masked figured said as he slowly removed his mask. Your eyes widened as you saw who was under the mask… It was Bucky. You quickly stood up and backed away from him as you started to hyperventilate.

“W-What the hell?” You finally said after you finally slowed your breathing down. Bucky chuckled as he came closer to you and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

“I guess it’s finally time to tell you-“ He said as she took off the costume and dropped the knife. You stared at him as his hand come up to caress your cheek. “You see kotenok i never meant for any of this to happen- But these people-t-they flirt with you and get too close to you. And i cant have that, i cant have people wanting to take what’s mine. And see i wouldn’t mind so much that people mindlessly flirt with you… if you didn’t flirt back” He seethed as he grabbed your face.

You were speechless at his confession never in a million years did you think he’d do this. But the idea that you’re his motive, that he just wants to keep you to his self is intoxicating. You look up at him with doe eyes before you finally find the words to say.

“You do all of this to make sure that i stay yours” Your voice heightens in excitement as you wait for his response.

His grip tightens on your face as he speaks. “Yes kotenok i do- i cant stand the thought of someone else having you the way i do” He confess as his eyes darken at the way you smirk.

“That’s- the hottest thing i think you’ve ever said to me” Bucky smiles devilishly at your words and suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall. His lips are on yours within a seconds time and the kiss is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Put the mask back on” The words come out breathless as your chest rises due to the lack of air. He smirks as he walks you over to the couch and lays you down before grabbing the mask and knife again. He put the mask back on and then slowly stalks towards you and he twirls the knife in his hand.

“Oh fuck” You whisper under your breath when he climbs on top of you. Even though you cant see his face you know for a fact he’s smirking. He wastes no time in ripping off your shirt along with your sweats leaving you in just your panties.

“So pretty” His voice comes out a little muffled as he speaks due to the mask but it made it so much hotter. He then takes the knife that he wiped off and drags it across your bare chest. Your breath hitches in your throat as the cool metal hits your skin. Bucky then drags the knife down your torso and slices your panties off and drags it across your bare pussy.

“Please” You beg as you grab the hand with the knife and place it on your stomach. He places the blade on your skin and digs it in just a little, “Mark me” Bucky wastes no time in carving his initials into your skin he leaves a little ‘J.B.B’ on your stomach, before wiping the blood away with his thumb. Your grab his thumb and slowly bring it to your mouth before you clean his thumb off.

“Fucking hell kotenok” He groans at your actions. Bucky grows impatient as he throws the knife across the room making note to pick it back up later. He then spreads your pussy and starts to play with your clit and your back arches in reaction.

“Please daddy” You beg and then he adds two fingers into you in a swift motion and chooses a relentless pace. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done but right now, in this moment you dont give a flying fuck.

The pleasure you feel is beyond intense as Bucky curls his fingers and hits your g-spot just right. You let out a screaming moan as your first orgasm bursts through you. “Oh fuck” You breathe out the best you can as you slowly takes off his pants and boxers exposing his hard cock standing at attention for you.

“I want you so bad please daddy” He doesn’t need much motivation after you give him the go ahead. Bucky slams his cock into you hard and fast and you scream in response to his movement.

“Yes yes yes” You chant as you sit up and wrap your arms around him as Bucky slams into you. The room is filled with the filthy noises of your pussy and his balls slapping your skin.

“Gonna fucking breed you kotenok” He grunts and picks up his speed chasing his high. You can feel your second orgasm build up as he talks about breeding you.

“Oh please breed me daddy- fuck- wanna be full of your babies” You plead as you grind your hips down on his cock earning a guttural moan from him.

“Yea? You want that your little slut? You wanna have my kids?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. You dont find the words to respond and just opt for nodding your head. And in turn Bucky changes the position so he’s back on top and he thrusts into you like never before. Your moans become louder and his pace gets rougher. The both of you end up finishing within a matter of minutes and once you do you take the mask off him and just stare at him.

You take a moment and rub your thumb over his bottom lip before you bring him into a passionate kiss. Bucky grunts into the kiss and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly. After you break the kiss you look into his blue eyes and smile softly.

“I love you” You whisper and put your forehead against his. In this moment you love him more than you ever thought possible. Did he murder someone? Yes. Did he kill almost a dozen people just for you? Yes. But he also did it because he loves you and that just makes your heart swell. You get an idea after a minute of just looking at him.

“Let’s clean this place up and then run away, Lets go some where else where it can be just us” You say with a pleading looking in your eyes. Bucky agrees and nods before getting you both dressed again.

The two of you clean up the mess and decide of what to do with the body before heading back home to pack your things. That night while in a way tragic was also the start of the rest of your lives together and you couldn’t be happier.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to me translated or copied on other websites

652 notes · View notes

thesexydevils · 2 years ago

Text

The Psychologist

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only.

I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted anywhere even if you give credit. But please re-blog and comment. Thank you!

Pairing: Criminal/Mafia Bucky x female reader

Summary: You, a young criminal psychologist, takes up a task with the government to study and make reports on the worst criminals in NY. One of them is James Buchanan Barnes.

Warnings: 18+ only, Dark fic, Noncon, breeding, blood, violence, force. GIF is not mine!

“Hello Dr. L/N, I got the call just an hour ago. Are you sure you want to do that?” You were sitting in front of him in your black dress pants and a beige sweater.

“Director, I can see you are not a fan of this but it is my job to study and understand humans like them.” His humorless laugh interrupted you and then he looked dead into your eyes. “Humans? This place is not made for humans. This prison is for those who are the scums of the society. Even animals are better than the monsters we cage here.”

You looked out of the window, the sky was gray with dark clouds. It was pouring outside and the gloomy weather made you low spirited. You took a deep breath and looked back at the man sitting behind the beg desk.

“Director Foster, I understand your hatred and disgust for the prisoners or as you said monsters, but right now you are stopping me from doing my job. I am here, because the Governor has appointed me to make a thorough report on the most dangerous criminals. This report is not only to see how dangerous they are, but also to see how and why they become like this.”

You took out the official letter out of your bag and handed it over to him. “I know you are worried that he will put them in a normal prison or pardon some of the crimes, but I assure you that this will never happen. Our goal is only to prevent others from becoming monsters.”

Director Foster leaned back in his chair and thought for a minute. “Fine Dr. L/N, but realize that you are putting yourself in danger. These are not just some thieves or drug dealers, most of them are criminal masterminds. Some of them will study you as you will them and play mind games.”

You nodded and told him that you will keep that in mind. As the door opened you picked your bag and stood up. A guard stepped in to take you to the first inmate, but before you left the office you heard the Director again.

“ Doctor, 2 guards will wait outside the room when you are alone with the prisoners and their hands and feet will be cuffed to the chairs. But still don't go near them.”

“I understand Director. Thank you.”

On the way to the room you talked with the guard. Apparently not many guards lasted longer than 3 years. The longest one worked 8 years but last year he had a breakdown and never came back on duty.

According to the young officer, he was a tough man with a military background, but one of the inmates got under his skin and made him lose his mind.

“Officer Peterson, can you get the inmates file and then get him too?” The Officer stilled for a moment, it took a few seconds for him to react. He turned around and looked a bit uneasy about your request. “ Are you sure Doctor? Maybe you should start with someone else?”

“Officer, I am sure, please bring him first.” He nodded and left without a word. You looked around the room, it looked like an interrogation room. With 2 chairs and a small table in between. You sat down behind the table and read through the file.

Name: James Buchanan Barnes aka Bucky

Born: 10. March 1984 in Brooklyn, NY

Criminal charges: 42 murders (31 first degree, 9 second degree), smuggling of weapons, drugs and humans, kidnapping, rape,...

Before you could read more the door opened, Officer Peterson entered the room. 2 other Officers were holding the tall man you were just reading about. He was roughly pushed down on the chair and the chains around his body were tightened and secured on the chair.

You thanked the Officers as they left the room and Peterson took his place outside beside the door.

You looked back at the man sitting in front of you, when he jerked his head and his long dark brown hair flipped to the sides. This was the first time you saw his face, he had a short untamed beard.

He was gorgeous, but him being a criminal left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you pushed all other thoughts out of your mind.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I am Dr. Y/N L/N. I am a criminal psychologist, my job is to understand the motivations of criminals, clinical evaluation of a defendant and criminal profiling. I work with the FBI and sometimes with the police too. You are one of the few people I will be profiling and making some reports.”

Your eyes met his, a cold feeling went down your spine. It was like his cold and dark eyes could see directly into your soul. But you still held eye contact with him, even knowing he was making a profile of you like you were making his.

You asked him questions about his childhood and parents, but he just sat there without answering any of it. After 40 minutes of trying to get him to speak up about his childhood, you stopped. The whole time he didn’t move, never said a word or looked away from you.

“Mr. Barnes, I will be back in 3-4 days and hopefully you will be more cooperative.” You called Officer Peterson in the room and in a few minutes he and 2 other Officers were untying him. As the three were about to leave the room you said to him. “Goodbye Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky!” You looked shocked at him, this was the first time you heard him speak. He only smirked at your reaction. The Officers pulled him out and closed the door, leaving you with Officer Peterson.

“That was weird, no one calls him Bucky here. All the other prisoners call him Barnes. Doctor, you should be careful around him. Barnes likes to play mind games.”

You nodded and sat down again. The officers brought another prisoner, but Barnes was the one you kept thinking of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly on the third day you were back and entered the room when James Barnes was already on the chair and secured. You greeted the officers and took your seat behind the desk.

Like the last time his eyes were staring only at you. You took out your notepad and started talking. “ Mr. Barnes I hope today you will be more talkative than the last time. Can we talk today about your childhood?”

You heard him chuckle lightly. “Bucky, call me Bucky doll. Why should I tell you anything about me? Don’t you think I should get something out of it too?”

I saw the slight smirk on his face. “Mr. Barnes if you have forgotten then let me remind you that I am only a psychologist. I don’t have the authority to make any kind of deals or promises.”

He moved his head to the side and looked directly into my eyes. “Don’t worry doll, it is something you can do to make this fun for both of us. For the last time, call me Bucky or this conversation is over.”

The way he said the word fun, made your heart skip a beat. Not because you found it pleasant, but because it sounded more like a threat to you.

“Okay tell me Mr. Bar... I mean Bucky.” His tongue moved over his lower lip and he bit on it. “See it wasn’t that hard. I want to play a game. A game that wouldn’t be hard for you to play. The game is 20 Questions.” That took you by surprise and seeing his reaction, you could tell he was enjoying the expressions on your face.

“What the ...? Why this game? We are not teenagers or on a date.” He laughed, like a real genuine laugh. “Come on doll, it is not everyday that a beautiful woman comes in here to spend some time with someone like me. Just humor me a bit and I promise to behave and not ask any dirty questions.”

Bucky winked at you and you could only roll your eyes at him. His behavior shocked you. It was like day and night. You had to be careful around him and not share much information about you or your personal life.

“Okay fine, tell me about your family.?” “I had a normal family. My mother was a faithful christian and my father was a hardworking man in Brooklyn and then there was my older brother Nick. Joined the military and a few years later died in Afghanistan.”

You were about to apologize but were interrupted by him. “What is your favorite color?”

“Really? Purple. Okay what was the turning point in your life?”

“If you believe that something really bad happened that made me like this, then no, there was not a turning point in my life. Why did you become a criminal psychologist”

You took a minute to answer this question. “My sister was killed. Why did you become a criminal?”

“I am sorry about your sister.” Your vision narrowed at him and you could help but to scoff at his heartless apology. “No, you don’t. You felt nothing at all.” “ Well doll, that's what normal people say, don’t they?”

You snorted derisively at him. “Normal people? Bucky, you are far from normal people. Just answer my question.”

“Don’t be so cold, doll. It does not suit you and I wasn’t making fun of you.” His cold eyes turned mischief and he shifted his head to the side. “I always felt peaceful when I could bend people or situations to my will and to do this you need power. And power comes from money, the money that you can’t get by working a 9-5 job.”

“So you kill for money and what about the women you raped? They didn’t deserve that, no one does.”

His laugh was cold and humorless. “Doll, it’s my turn. Play fair and don’t be naughty. Why was your sister killed?”

Fury flooded you, as the dark thoughts came back. The room turned quiet, but your heart beat throbbed in your ears. You felt like the time had slowed and the clock on the wall was ticking louder. One minute turned into two and then into five, but he did not say anything or asked again.

A loud knock on the door told you that the time was over and you felt relieved knowing that now you could breathe normally again.

The officers entered the room, but Bucky kept staring at you without saying anything at all. He was pulled by two officers but before they left called you. “Doll, we will continue this in 2 days. I will be waiting for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost a week went by, but you didn’t see him again. Of course you were there and met with other inmates, but somehow you couldn’t talk to him again. Barnes got under your skin and it scared you, because you met many criminals but only a handful people were this manipulative.

You were in the prison waiting in the room for him. Not because it was your decision, but because you got a call from the prison director. The director told you that Barnes had beaten an inmate almost to death, because he was telling all that you were very beautiful and nice. Somehow Barnes heard him talk about you and broke 4 ribs, 3 fingers and his jaw.

The inmate was in intensive care because of the head trauma and Barnes was held in solitary confinement. But it didn’t go well, because he banged his head against the wall till he started bleeding. The only thing Barnes wanted was to see you again and so you were waiting again for him.

You heard loud footsteps outside and you prepared yourself for him. “Doll, you came. I have been waiting for you.” You were weirded out as he was smiling so brightly, like he hadn’t almost killed a man and then went full psycho on himself.

He willingly sat down and when the officers were ready he shooed them out of the room. “So Doll, tell me, what did you do last week?”

“Mr Barnes, do you think this is funny? You almost killed a man and then went crazy on yourself.” he only laughed at me.

“It is your fault, you shouldn’t have avoided me and then you visited other guys here. It made me angry and right now you are pissing me too. I have told you to call me Bucky.”

The way his mood changed scared you. But you were going to end this now. “Bucky, you are not a part of the group I am working with anymore. I don’t think we will get any clear results if I am going to do the clinical evaluation, that’s why my colleague will do it.”

You thought he would get angry at you but he just smirked and said. “Really, we will see about this later, but now let's continue our game. Last time it was my turn, but I am going to change the question for you. So you had a sister, are there other family members?”

You looked away pinching the bridge of your nose. “My personal life is none of your business. I know you are trying to manipulate and play your sick mind games with me, but I will not let this happen.”

You stood up with your purse and went to the door, but then you heard him speak again. “

Mr. D/N L/N your dad is a professor at NYU and your mom, Mrs. M/N L/N is a family lawyer. With 3 children, the oldest daughter was killed then you came and after you there is a brother who is studying law. Then there is your boyfriend who is an assistant district attorney. Met while working on a case 3 years ago, he just proposed to you a few weeks ago. How sweet.”

“How the fuck do you know this? Did you bribe a ward to get the information?” He chuckled at you and said, “It’s all about power, love. You think, just because I am in a prison I don’t have the power anymore? Of course I do have the power, why do you think they didn’t take any actions? Because doll, I have the money and if I say jump they will only say how high.”

The anger in you was rising, but you stopped yourself from screaming at him. You were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you panic. You quietly stood up and packed your things and went to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak again. “Y/N, break up with your fiance. It will be much easier for you and it will also be better for him if you break his heart now then I break his neck later.”

Cold fear spiraled through you, as you heard him threaten your love Andy. You harshly turned around and started shouting at him. “Don’t you dare ... don’t you fucking dare to threaten my love or my family. James Buchanan Barnes I am glad you are rotting in this prison and one day you will die like any other disgusting low life.”

Hearing you scream the guards enter the room and it made you feel a bit better. You told them to take him back to his cell. Officer Peterson was talking to you, trying to calm you down. All of sudden one of the officers was lying on the floor with a bloody nose. The other one took his truncheon, but before he could land a hit Bucky grabbed him and banged his head on the table again and again, till his face was covered in blood.

Officer Peterson was as shocked as you were and he tried his best to protect you from him as he could. Bucky smiled sickly at you when Peterson got in between and tried to overpower Bucky, but you just heard a ugly cracking sound.

You stood, frozen with fear as his tall figure moved closer towards you. You tried to run past him but he was fast and graped your neck and pinned you to the wall.

No sound escaped your mouth, as he moved his face closer to your neck. You tried to scream as you felt his wet tongue on your neck, but Bucky covered your mouth with his hand. “No doll, not yet. I want to hear you scream, when I will push my cock into your small cunt. You taste so sweet and I bet your pussy tastes sweeter. Fuck I can’t wait to have you. See how perfectly you fit against me.”

Bucky pressed his hard on in your stomach, tears rolled down your eyes. You tried to shove him away, but the bastard only chuckled and licked your tears away. “Hmm, tasty.”

A half dozen officers ran into the room and pulled Bucky off you. One of them hit him on the back of the knees and the other one took him in a headlock, but Bucky just grinned like it was the most amusing thing in the world.

“I will see you soon doll.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After all the disaster you were not in the right mind space, you didn’t even remember entering the directors office or him talking to you. Only after Andy arrived and crunched down to your level and held your face in his hands did you come out of the shock.

You broke into tears and hugged him tightly. Andy whispered sweet and encouraging things to you. About 10 minutes later you both were leaving the prison building and led you to his car. All the while you didn’t say a word to him and he didn’t push you to talk.

You closed your eyes as soon as he started the car and in less than 5 minutes you were lulled in a dreamless sleep.

After 3 months you were back to normal like you used to be. Andy was a sweetheart, always taking care of you and supporting your decisions. You continued your assignment in the prison but you stayed in the right wing only with another psychologist in the room.

It was a beautiful day, Andy and you had finally decided a wedding date and the venue was booked. You were out with your friends, helping you with other wedding related matters. Andy was free today and he was all happy to stay home and cook dinner for you.

Surprisingly he was a fabulous cook and you were really excited for tonight, because you had some dresses in mind. You said your goodbyes to your best friends and entered your car and drove back to your apartment.

Shortly after you arrived at home and even before you opened the door you smelled the heavenly delicious Italian garlic bread. You entered your home, it was dark inside and only the fairy lights gave you the directions to the living room. A table was set with a red wine bottle and the food. You saw Andy’s silhouette and smiled at him.

The beautiful moment was disturbed by your mobile. “Andy, give me two minutes. I will make it quick.” You turned around and left the room and picked up. “Dr. L/N there is bad news ... the prisoner James Barnes escaped from prison with the help of his team. Please stay safe ...” The mobile slipped from your fingers and you ran back in the room. You hastily turned the light on, but when you looked at Andy, you screamed out.

You ran up to him, softly touching his bloody face. His hands were bound on his back and a dishcloth was stuffed in his mouth. You reached to pull it out, but suddenly you were yanked away from him.

Bucky caged you in his arms, his chest rubbed against your back and his face was between your shoulder and neck. He took a deep breath and spoke huskily in your ear. “I missed you doll. 3 fucking months ... Do you know how pissed I was when you visited, but never came to meet me. But don’t worry we will catch up soon.”

“Andy!” You called out his name, he looked up at you. His blood dripped down his chin. Bucky saw this and chuckled lightly and nibbled the soft flesh on your neck. One of his hands slipped under your blouse and grabbed your boob.

Seeing this Andy screamed but his voice was muffled by the cloth. You shrieked in pain when Bucky bit your shoulder blade. Andy screamed again and tried to pull himself from the chair, but his beaten up body was not helping much.

Bucky grabbed your hair harshly and pushed you forward to Andy. He yanked the cloth out of his mouth and spoke to him very softly. “Andy, between us men, how is she in the bed? I bet she is a wild pussy cat. Look at her how sweet and innocent she looks.”

He pushed her face near Andy’s. “Barnes, let her go! Please, just let her go. Don’t hurt her.”

Bucky tugged you back and pinning your body against his. “Hurt? I am not going to hurt her. I am going to fuck her. You have no idea how much I wanted to do that the first time he came to the prison.” Without any warning his lips were on you. You punched his chest, but he did not stop.

“Barnes, let her go. You fucking bastard. I will kill you, just leave her alone. Fuck, I will kill you. Fuck...” One moment he was forcing his tongue in your mouth and the next moment you were on the floor. Before you realized what happened, you heard an ugly stabbing sound. You turned your face back and saw a kitchen knife in Bucky's hand.

Everything stilled around you as you saw the blood running down the knife's edge. Bucky stabbed Andy a second time in his stomach, as you crawled towards him. “ No, no,no. Please, no! Andy, baby no. Please don’t leave me. Andy ...”

But Bucky picked you up and threw you on his shoulder and walked to Andy and your bedroom. You tried to grab Andy’s shoulder, but could reach him.

You were tossed on the bed and somehow it knocked the air out of your lungs. Bucky pinned you down on the bed, but you lashed out. You hit, punched and scratched his face, shoulders and arms, but nothing moved him away from you.

You screamed and cried. “No, please let me go. Don’t do this. Andy, HELP! ANDYY!”

A sudden slap shocked her to silence, the force turned her face to side and her cheek had a stinging sensation. Bucky was not done yet, he grabbed her neck and whispered harshly in her ear. “If you again say his name, I will make sure the police will not find his body in one piece. My people will scatter every part of his in different city districts. From now on you will only say my name.”

He kept his grip on her neck. “I thought I would take my time with you today, but now you have pissed me, doll. Last chance, calm down and enjoy or ...” He grabbed your face aggressively and invaded your mouth, but as you didn’t kiss him back, he growled into your mouth. “Fuck, doll! Kiss me back.” You cried harder, your tears soaked your cheeks. Bucky grabbed your hair, his lips were back on yours. You whimpered as his tongue was back in your mouth. He tugged your hair again, till you didn’t move your tongue against his.

Meanwhile Bucky pushed your leggings down, his free hand slipped between your legs and cupped your pussy though your panties. In panic you bit into his lip, making him bleed. Bucky pulled back and touched his bottom lip with his fingers and smirked. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me, you like it rough?As you wish, Y/N.”

He ripped the blouse open and then he took his pocket knife out and slid it between your boobs and cut your bra. The cold air made her nipples tight and hard and he saw that. Bucky pushed the teared fabric to the side and took your nipple between his lips and bit down on her nipple.

You yelped and started begging him. “Please ... no, let me go.” Then you felt his strength as he just ripped your panties from bothside. He let you go for a moment and you took the chance and crawled away from him, but he gripped your leggings and pulled it down. Before you got off the bed, Bucky yanked you back by your ankle. “NO ... no don’t do this.”

He lifted your leg and pinned it on the bed. His body weight on your back made it impossible for you to move. His finger slid between your pussy lips and rubbed your clit.

You winced as he entered you with his finger, as you were still dry.

“BUCKY!” You yelled when you felt his dick between your thighs. Bucky pushed his cock against your pussy. “Sssshhh ... relax, it won’t hurt much.”

“Please.” You choked, as he entered you completely in one push. “Fuck, you are so tight.” you gripped the sheets tightly, when he pulled all the way out and pushed back in. You cried out, when he slammed in your pussy again and again. He groaned into your ear. “ Doll you are made for my cock. I can feel you getting wet.” One hand was holding your leg apart and the other one moved down to your clit and circled your clit.

He was right, you were getting wet and coating his cock. It shocked you, how your body was reacting to the abuse and rape. You whimpered and shook your head. “ Soon you will learn to like it and then there will be a time where you will beg me to fuck you.”

“Never!” You spat and tried to push him off your back, but he just fucked harder. You yelped again when he bit your shoulder and sucked the skin, leaving marks all over you.

Suddenly Bucky pulled out, but before you could react he turned you around and got between your legs. He slid back into you, you felt him so deep that his dick was almost touching your womb.

One of your nipples was in his mouth, his tongue rolled around the hard bud, his right hand was pinching the other bud. His other hand was holding your leg around his hip, as he pushed his cock harder into you.

Bucky released your nippled with a pop and kissed your jaw, like you were lovers. “I love fucking you, doll. I could fuck you all day.” A kiss silenced your protest. He slammed harder and you could help but arch your back. “I knew, you will like it. Your little pussy is gripping so tightly. You are about to cum in my cock.”

He spread both of her legs wide and held them open, as he moved deep in her. “I want to see you cum, fuck you are creaming me so well.” You cried harder, because you felt your body let go. “ Stop ... please don’t make me. Bucky ... don’t.” He continued fucking you while he was rubbing his thumb on your clit.”

“Doll, cum on my cock, I know you want to. Your pussy loves my dick.” He rubbed your clit harder, his thighs slapped against yours. “Noooo!” Your legs trembled as the organsam grew and washed over your body. Giving into his assault you came hard on his cock.

“ Good girl, now it’s time for you to take my cum. Fuck, you got tighter.”

“No, don't cum inside me, I will get pregnant, please don’t!” He pulled you up and held you tightly against his body, his lips pushed against your and his tongue was in your mouth. You groaned as he went faster in a new position into your over stimulated pussy.

Your legs shook, because the over stimulation made you cum again and with that he spilled his cum inside you. “You are mine Dr. Y/N L/N.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You heard him say, before your eyes closed and you welcomed the darkness with open arms.

A few hours later Bucky was sitting in his private jet and with you sleeping in his lap and in one hand a whisky glass. You would sleep for at least the next 12 hours. The drug he gave you after you blacked out was a bit strong, but would make sure you didn’t wake up during the entire flight.

A couple hundreds miles away a man was dead on the operation table only to be revived back to life in a few minutes.

Assistant district attorney Andrew “Andy” Barber opened his eyes after 32 hours, only knowing one thing. He will get you back safe and he will kill James Buchanan Barnes.

“Y/N I will find you. Promise.”

The End

If you like it, leave comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

#dark!bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark fic #mafia bucky x reader #andy barber #non con #criminal au

719 notes · View notes