#bucky x stressed!reader
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hiiiii!!!!!! i am recovering from anorexia where i had to get hospitialized cuz i wouldnt eat i was wondering if you would be able to write something for me i love your writing so so much i hope you have a amazing day tommorrow or to night or when ever you read this
LOVE YOU SO MUCH=(^.^)=
You're Enough.
a/n: Oh no, love. I'm so so sorry you had to go through that. Please feel free to message me if you want to! It took me a very long time to write this because it hit a little close to home and while I haven't been diagnosed with an eating disorder, I've noticed for the past two years that I've been starving myself in a very unhealthy way, and my doctor said I show signs of body dysmorphia, so it took me a while to write this and it may not be what you wanted so i'm so sorry but i really tried my best to write this. I really hope that you're doing better now<3
warnings: angsty, implication of an ED, stressed!reader
âI know, baby, I know.â Bucky sighed listening to her cry on the phone.
âM-make it go âwayâŚI have so much work left...â She mumbled as she tried to sit up. She quickly laid back down when her stomach started to hurt even more.
âBubba, I really wish I could.â
âWhy canât you make it better,â She continued to cry loudly, âYou always do.â
He could feel his heart breaking as he listened to her cry, beg him for help, âSweetheart, I would love to help you, I just donât think Iâm close enough to do that right. I wish I was there to take care of youâŚâ
He felt guilty for leaving her. He didnât have a choice in but it still pained him to listen to her crying because she was in so much pain. If Sam wouldn't have called him for help then he wouldâve stayed with her.
She was still in school but she's supposed to graduate next year. She'd been dreaming about going to graduate school to get her masters. But lately, she felt like she was suffocating trying to get good grades. She'd been trying her absolute best but sometimes it felt like it wasn't enough.
Last year, she failed two classes, and almost failed a third one. She couldn't figure out why it happened until she got diagnosed with ADD. Her doctor talked to her about taking medication and getting treatment. She explained neurodiversity, and how late diagnosis like this often affects your grades and work.
During summer, she tried to make up for it all but she got a little obsessive. One time, she nearly went 3 days without eating anything because she was too focused on an essay that was due soon. Her stomach hurt so much on the fourth day, so she tried to eat something but ended up getting sick and throwing it all up. She drank some water and got back to work. She was at her desk for hours until Bucky finally forced her to take a break.
As soon as she got up from her desk, she nearly passed out in his arms. He had to hold her up while her head was spinning. He'd been so worried, so scared. He helped her to her bed before getting her something to drink. She took a few sips before confessing that she hadn't had a thing in days.
She'd been doing much better with his help lately, but every now and then, she struggles to have even one meal a day. She'd always had a complicated relationship with her body and food. But it felt like it had been getting worse lately.
If she was in this much pain before Bucky left, he never wouldâve left her alone. But now thereâs not much he could do besides try to cheer her up with sweet words of encouragement over the phone.
âHate being alone like thisâŚhurts so muchâŚâ She mumbled, pulling the blanket over her head before bringing her phone back to her ear.
âBubba how about you get some rest and Iâll try to figure something out so youâll feel better in no time, yeah? How does that sound, baby, is that okay?â Bucky had a plan that might help her feel a bit better until he comes back.
She mumbled a quick yes before hanging up the phone and slowly falling back asleep.
After a while, she woke up to someone gently stroking her hair. At first she leaned into their touch but then she realized that Bucky wasnât supposed to be home yet. She quickly pushed the person away and sat up in her bed to see who it was.
âHey, itâs just me! Donât panic, sweetheart, Bucky called me and said you werenât feeling too well?â She relaxed when she realized it was just Steve. She slowly nodded, lying back down and curling in on herself. The pain had only gotten worse.
âPoor baby, itâs alright, everything is going to be okay! I brought you some food and something to drink so youâll be feeling better in no time.â She quickly shook her head, and covered herself up with the blanket again. The thought of eating anything right now was enough to make her feel sick.
âBubbaâŚyou know you have to eat, love. I know youâre very cozy right now, and I promise we can cuddle soon, but darling you know food is very important too.â
She quietly sniffled at his words, feeling a bit overwhelmed. She knew he was right. She didnât enjoy feeling this way, she knew how unhealthy this was for her. But her brain wouldnât allow her to agree so quickly. She just started fidgeting with her thumb instead of answering him.
He gently lifted the blanket up, âLook I brought you a few snacks and some drinks. Thereâs all kinds of different things, bubba, even some chocolate! We can start small, like something to drink first. Your throat must be pretty sore, bubs.â
She thought about it for a second. It couldnât hurt to drink something. It would help her feel a bit better. She slowly nodded and got up, her back against the headboard.
Steve smiled at her, and opened up the bag he brought with him. He dumped everything onto her bed, making her eyes widen at the amount of food and drinks heâd gotten for her.
He noticed her reaction and decided to put a few things back in the bag, âDonât worry, sweetheart. These are for you and I to share, donât have to finish it all by yourself. Plus I just wanted to make sure I brought you a wide selection of snacks and drinks to choose from.â He knew she had some sensory issues, especially when it came to food. She wasn't exactly picky but some textures just didn't feel right in her mouth and she preferred to steer clear of them.
She nodded and looked down at some of the drinks that were on her bed, along with the snacks. She tried to tell Steve which drink she wanted but her throat was so sore, she couldnât get the words out. She decided to just point at one of the juice boxes and mumble a âpleaseâ.
âItâs okay, bubba, you donât have to talk. I know it hurts. Itâll be okay soon.â He popped the straw into the juice box before handing it over to her, âAlright you get started on that juice box, Iâll find a movie for us to watch.â
He took his laptop out of his bag and turned it on. He quickly turned on one of her favourite movies, then placed the laptop next to her.
âAlright Iâm gonna have a snack, bubs, Iâm feeling a bit hungry. Would you like to share one?â She shrugged, not sure what to say. He grabbed a sleeve of cookies, before moving over to sit down next to her, âItâs okay if you donât want to, bubba, you can still have a little bit if youâd like though?â
She watched him open up the package and take out a cookie, offering it to her first. She quickly shook her head and turned her attention over to the movie. He kissed her forehead before taking a bite of the cookie, âOh bubs, these are really good. Are you sure you donât want some? I can split this one if youâd like?â
She thought about it for a minute before hesitantly nodding her head. He smiled and split the cookie into two, making sure he didnât get any crumbs on the bed. He handed her the other half, watching her take small bites, âYou're doing great, love. Bucky loves you, you know? I know he canât wait to come back home and see you.â
She smiled at the thought of Bucky coming home soon, while finishing off the cookie. Her throat felt a bit dry from the cookie, so she took a few sips from the juice box before putting it back down.
She moved closer to Steve, resting her head on top of him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him, âHow are you feeling now, bubs? Stomach still hurts?â
âA little bitâŚâ She mumbled, smiling every now and then at the movie.
âWhat if I cut up some fruits for you in a little bit? How does that sound? Maybe some strawberries for my sweet girl?â She blushed at that but nodded her head, âAlright then, Iâll get that for you in a bit.â
âT-thank you.â
He smiled, giving her a kiss on her forehead, âCome on, get comfy, love. Everything is gonna be okay.â
#bucky fluff#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#james bucky buchanan barnes#buckysteve#stucky fic#stucky#bucky x stressed!reader#haleyhunwritess#steve x reader#steve fic#steve fluff#steve rogers fic#steve angst#bucky angst
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all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.
Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing đ
But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.
"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."
His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.
"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"
He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."
Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.
"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.
"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.
He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.
"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.
You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.
He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.
Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.
He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.
It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.
#asks answered <3#becca writes spice#anon#needy!bucky#bucky barnes x reader smut#sub!bucky#bucky barnes smut#subby!bucky#this should technically belong to the shs series#but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here#I make the rules đ#but that 'thank you' nearly killed me#I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity#I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed'#or worse 'things must be getting on top of you'#like ???#why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate?#I know people mean well but it really bothers me
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Overwhelmed
Hi there love! I had a lovely request that I accidentally deleted. But Fortunately I write it down ; Hiya! I love your stuff and I'm sorry you lost your account!
I was wondering if I could request a little who has a mini meltdown after a busy day (going shopping/being at work where it is noisy) and pulls their hearing aids out and throws them on the floor (doesn't break them!) because the noises become too overwhelming. After they get all the snuggles from Stucky and maybe put in a pull-up and gets a bottle? (Only if you are comfortable!) I can get really stressed and overwhelmed when I wear mine when I'm little because it picks up on the electrical sounds (high pitched sounds, humming etc)
No rush/pressure to do this!
- đ X
I'm sorry to hear you have stress like that, I hope you'll find a way to get it better. I know it can take times but I hope you'll find it <3
And thank you love â¤ď¸
I'm also sorry that i didn't post for 4 days, I was sick and unable to do anything đ
Anyways, I'm better now so enjoy lovers đ
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Warnings : angst, stress, meltdown, cries, comfort, pet names, cuddles, paci, lots of love and comfort toward little reader.
Pairing : daddies!stucky ; daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x little!reader
Summary : ⤴ď¸â¤´ď¸
****
Too much,
Everything was just too much for you today and you can't handle it anymore.
Usually it's calm and cosy at your work. You just have to read books before they're publishing and you have to say what you liked and what you didn't liked, what you thought would make polemics or could cause any problems. You found the perfect job for you. The room where you cosily read is quiet because either way it's hard to concentrate, it's like that in all the area.
However, today was the total oposite. Some dude name Bobby had his birthday, which is cool, it means cake, having a break from work, it means resting your eyes ect. But you weren't prepared to hear all the loud music and all the loud laughters or yell from your collegues. You tried to get yourself into it but you never liked loud noises, you still made the effort but when everyone started jumping at one song, one of your men collegue grabbed your shoulders to make you jump with them- it was in the euphoria of the moment, he didn't mean to scare you but he did and you got scared. You tried to hide it too but all of those things were a lot to handle on your own.
You got home earlier because you felt too overwhelmed to stay at work and act like everything were fine when nothing was. You rush in the kitchen to get some water. Maybe some fresh liquid will help you calm down. As soon as you open the fridge and take out the bottle of water, it slipped out of your hands and fall down on the cold tiles. The new muffled sound is added to the list and you find yourself on the ground, crying.
You're hands fly to your face and you sob in them. You bring your knees to your chest. You take off your hearing aids and look down at them, your tears fall more violently when you gaze the things in your hands. You throw them on the floor. You don't want to see them, they caused you stressed and you got scared because of them.
You don't hear the front door opening because of your sobs, you don't hear your daddies walking in the house. They laughed about something that happened at work but Steve stops walking and laughing when he hears muffled voice. He looks at Bucky and frowns "is she already at home ?" he asks
Bucky shurgs and they both keep walking quietly this time toward the noises. But when Bucky understands it's not only muffled voice but cries, he starts to run until he reaches the kitchen. Steve is closes behind Bukcy and almost bumps into him when he suddenly stops running. Bucky looks down and sees you curled up on yourself on the kitchen floor. He and Steve kneels down "Baby ?" You shake your head and cries harder. You didn't know how long you were on the floor crying but now you know, it's been a long time.
"Sweetie, something happened ?" Your Papa asks. Bucky sits on one side of you and Steve on the other side of you. You shake your head and keep crying making your daddies worrier. Steve caresses your legs while Bucky caresses your back as they shush you, whisper sweet nothings in your ears and help you getting more comfortable about what happened, even if they still don't know what happened.
"You're okay, you're home now. Nothing bad can happen in here." Your Papa says as he kisses your temple. You let yourself falling against his chest as your cries start to calm down. "Keep going, sweetness. You're doing a great job" he whispers. Bucky grabs the bottle of water who is on the ground and he sees at the same time something else on the ground. He benches over to grab it and frowns "Steve" he says grabbing his husband's attention.
Steve looks up at him, Bucky shows him the hearing aids he has on his hands and Steve frowns. He removes your hair and puts them behind your ears and sees you don't wear yours so the one Bucky has on his hands are probably the one you wore today.
"Sweetie, why don't we go upstairs and take a warm bath ? Iâm sure It'll make you feel better" he quietly says as he slides his fingers down your hair "We can go upstairs with some water too since you wanted some" he proposes
They aren't dump, the bottle of water didn't fall by herself from the frige
You sniff and nod your head. Steve nods at Bucky and he goes upstairs to prepare the bath while Steve stays in the kitchen with you. He needs to be sure you're fine.
Steve stands up and rests you on his left hip as he wonders around the kitchen. He grabs a glass and fills it with water as he swings you on his hip. He hums one of your favorite song to calm your cries down. Your head is rest against his shoulder and you put your thumb in your mouth. Steve peers down at you when he finished cleaning the kitchen but when he sees your thumb in your mouth he went to grab it to pull it out but stops himself. He doesn't like those things, Bucky neither but every time you feel anxious or stressed, sad or angry you grab your paci or your Daddies's tag. It calm you to have something in between your lips and right now you need something in your mouth. Steve knows you can't wait to be upstairs to have your paci in your lips so he lets you- for some minutes only, to have your thumb in your mouth.
He caresses your back as he walks upstairs, shushing you every times he hears your quiet sniffs. When he's on top of the staires, he goes to the bathroom and sees Bucky finishing the bath "here you are" he smiles when he hears you behind him. "hi zazzy" you whisper through your thumb. Bucky smiles more and kisses your nose "hi beautiful" he whispers back
"your bath is ready, sweetie" Steve says and sits you on the sink so he and Bucky can help you undress yourself. He steps aside to let Bucky reaches you and he quickly excuses himself to go grab a clean pyjama, for you after your bath.
Bucky removes your shoes first and then your socket. He pulls away by the top your little sunny dress- your favorite, and then removes your underwears carefully. Bucky peers up at you while preparing you for your bath, he gives you winks or pokes here and there to make you smile or giggle which work.
"do you want to go in there by yourself or do you want me to put you in it ?" he asks putting your hair behind your ears. You nod making him laugh. You give him an innocent smile since you don't know why he's laughing but you find it funny. He shakes his head and pushes your nose with his "damn you're so cute"
You blush and giggle as you swing your legs, hitting him from times to times "Why did you nod ?" he asks smirking at you "to go in there by yourself ?" he asks and you nod again "okay so you don't want me to carry you in the bath ?" he says just to be sure but you nod again making him sigh in defeat
Steve chuckles as he stands straight. It's been a long time he was there, watching you both with a loving smile on his face. He was leaning against the doorway but stand up when he sees that you're too little to understand
"Come here" he smiles grabbing you to lowering you down. He grabs your hand and leads you to the warm bathtub. He kneels beside the bathtub and put his arm above the edge of the tub, he dips his fingers in hot water "feel the water and tell us if it's not too hot for you or too cold, sweetness" he says caressing your naked back up and down
You shiver from the touch of your Papa and the cold breeze hitting your sensible skin. You slowly lower your hand above the water and soak your fingers in the water slightly. You get them out and nod at your Papa, "it's okay for you ?" he asks and you nod again. He grabs your hand and helps you getting in it but still let you do it by yourself
Once you're cover of bubble, a pack on your lips and some toys to play with, your daddies puts the glass of water beside you and go in the bedroom to prepare the room for the night. Seeing in what bad stade you were when they came home, they would rather have you beside them all night so they can be sure that you're fine.
Bucky sighs as he makes the bed making Steve looks up at him "what ?"
"What do you think happened ?" he asks looking down at the sheets. Steve shurgs "i don't know but it seems to have shook her up a bit too much but I think we don't have to push her to talk to us. It clearly was something big to her and if she feels the need to talk to us about it then she'll do it but if she needs time, we'll let her be but still show her that we're here incase"
Bucky nods "I have the same opinion" after that he frowns his eyebrows "but," Steve looks up at Bucky again "what about the hearing aids ?"
"Did she broke them ?" Steve asks and Bucky shakes his head "no, I put them where we put them when she's not wearing them" he says and Steve nods "good, I don't think we donât need to worry about that. I just think she felt too much things and couldn't handle it anymore and just threw them away. I think she wanted and needed to get in a quiet and calm space of mind and just didn't know how to do that"
Bucky sighs "i know you said we don't have to worry but I do. What if something happened ? Like really happened ?"
"I know it's hard Buck but we can't be on her back all the times. She needs to move on by herself and even if we're behind her if she needs us, she needs to do things by herself" Steve says and grabs his husband's hands "We won't let her down. We'll be there for her but she needs to succeed on her own"
Bucky nods and leans to kiss Steve on the lips. They both make their way back to the bathroom and smile when they see you playing in your bubble bath "are you ready to go out ?" Steve asks but you shake your head "No ?" he frowns
"No Papaa" you whine in a way that say 'obviously' making Bucky laughing "I not soap yet" you say and look side eye at him. Steve shakes his head while smiling "how could I forget that" he says smashing his forehead making you giggle. Bucky grabs your favorite flavor soap and hand it to Steve.
The sweet hands and the delicious flavor slide all over your body and you relax at the feelings. The way his hand strokes your body make you more sleepy than you were before. After cleaning each one of your toes who got yourself giggling, Steve pulls you up and lowers you on the ground while Bucky hold wide open a big towel.
They help you get your pyjama on you and after cleaning you teeth, your Papa goes to grab Bucksie so he's in bed, all ready for you. Bucky lifts you up and walks you to their warm and big comfy bed. He goes under the cover after you and cover your tired body with the sheets"here you go, little one" he says kissing your forehead. You hear the door closing and feel your Papa going in bed behind you.
He rests Bucksie in your arms and kisses your cheek. You mumble a quietly thank you and snuggle your daddies. Your Daddy slides his fingers in your hair and your Papa's on your back "we're here if you need us, beautiful. Always. You can count on us if you need it, you don't need to be ashamed of how you're feeling or if you need help with something, anything." Your Daddy says resting his forehead against yours
"we love you and we're here for you, sweetie. Always and forever"
#@aagn360#bucky barnes x steve rogers x little reader#daddies!stucky#daddy!bucky#little space#little!reader#bucky barnes#papa!steve#steve rogers#stucky x little reader#steve x bucky#bucky x little!reader#fluff#angst#overwhelmed#stressed#bucky barnes fic#james buchanan barnes#stucky#steve rogers fic#captain america#steve rogers fluff#bucky barnes fluff
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being in a relationship with Loki and Bucky be like tbh this is all because i was browsing pinterest and saw a pin that said "and remember: no noble sacrifices or anything similarly stupid" lmao Loki x Bucky x reader gn!reader, no warnings
the three of you are constantly trying to stop each other from doing reckless shit, but you're terrible at it
Clint is convinced you three have a shared deathwish and the only thing keeping all of you alive is the fact that you're no longer allowed to go on missions as a trio
speaking of, y'all are insufferable on missions
you and Bucky keep throwing yourselves in front of bullets, knives, magic.......seriously, stop it, you're stressing Loki out
sometimes Loki's too cocky for his own good, accidentally talking his way in the wrong direction (Bucky has had to save his ass a few times. Loki is still in debt to him)
if it's just two of you it's...well not better but...different
you and Bucky? mostly business, except for the constant stream of jokes and jabs at each other (and whoever's unlucky enough to be teamed up with you. y'all get a little mean with the jokes ngl lmao)
you and Loki are a terror together. while you technically break no laws, you two are awful
the two of you talk circles around everyone - teammates included - walking them straight into some pun or stupid play-on-wordsthat only you and Loki find funny. honestly you two are obnoxious (lovingly)
Natasha turned her comms off halfway through her first mission with you two. she refuses to turn them back on
Loki and Bucky aren't allowed to go on missions together
they bicker too much
also they've been caught.......distracting each other.....a few too many times
Steve can only be trusted on missions with you guys some of the time
y'all are just good at bringing Steve's inner gremlin to the surface, what can I say
#winterfrost x reader#bucky x loki x reader#mcu x reader#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#bucky x reader#loki x reader#bucky headcanons#loki headcanons#look these two are my boys ok i love them#i just wanna be stupid with them#not a request#very slowly working on drafts#been stressed lately#lost my job again and waiting to see if i qualify for rent assistance but i am.#starting to sweat aaa#did i link my kofi on this blog? idk if i did i'd appreciate anything#rent is like $600 and I have just under $300 ahaha rip me#anyway! fics are still coming! just.#slowly
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Y/N: My only talent is being stress.
Nat: Don't you mean stressed?
Y/N: No.
#avengers#marvel#mcu#incorrect marvel quotes#mcu fandom#quotes#funny texts#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#what the fuck#fuck this#am i doing this right?#die bitch#stress
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Breathe
a/n: Hey everyone! This is my first fic so my writing definitely needs some work but I hope you enjoy it :) Also if there's anything I should add to my warnings pls let me know.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: Finals are right around the corner making you hyper focused on your studies and nothing else, not even your health. A certain super soldier steps in to take care of you.
Warnings: stressed reader, angst, fluff, lack of food and sleep ~ (I think that's it)
Word count: 1.3k
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
Memorize.
Read.
Memorize.
Write.
Read.
Memorize.
It was a vicious cycle that you dared not to get out of. The computer screen at your desk has been on for days and feels hot to the touch from overuse. You could surely say that about yourself too.
Finals are coming up, quick, and not a minute can be wasted. Getting good grades have always been extremely important to you. Striving for the best and getting straight Aâs every semester, you weren't going to change that pattern now.
Blinking hurts. You can already feel the damage your eyes are taking from endless hours of staring at a screen. If you looked in a mirror youâd probably mistake yourself for a raccoon with the dark shade of your eyebags. When was the last time you slept? What time is it? Having what you like to call study isolation makes the days blur together into one big blob. You look down to your phone.
4:55am.
Throwing your head back in your chair, you groan. âOh god.â
But you always tell yourself, âJust study a bit more. Then you can take a break.â
That dream break never comes though. Like a tunnel that keeps growing, pushing the light farther and farther away. You can study for a little bit longer, right?
â§â§â§
Bucky walks into the shared kitchen at the compound for lunch. Itâs Sunday, meaning itâs Wandaâs turn to cook. His stomach is grumbling at just the thought of it.
Bucky, Steve, and Sam had just gotten back from a week long mission in the knee deep snow mountains. All he needs is a good meal and his girl.
âHey Wanda, whereâs Y/N?â
She turns her attention from the stove. âI think sheâs in her room. Havenât seen her in a while so Iâm not sure.â
Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. Y/N never goes a day without talking to Wanda, theyâre inseparable.
Wanda sets Buckyâs plate on the table. The smell of Chicken Paprikash fills the kitchen. âSit and eat first, we all know that mission was a pain.â She walks back to the stove. âF.R.I.D.A.Y. please call everyone into the kitchen.â
The A.I. takes a second to respond. âMr. Stark has requested for the phrase âchow timeâ to be used when calling for a meal.â
Wanda stops stirring the Parikash and puts a hand on her hip that is still holding the spoon. She sighs, âF.R.I.D.A.Y. would you call chow time, please.â
Bucky chuckles and sits down, draping his black jacket across the chair next to him to save you a seat. The A.I. responds, âCertainly Ms. Maximoff.â
The sudden sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y.âs voice through the audio system lurches your head off of your desk. Your cheek lights up with pain and you can already feel the pattern of the keyboard on your face. Did you fall asleep? The dried drool from your mouth to ear confirms your suspicions.
âWhat did you say F.R.I.D.A.Y.?â You rub your face trying to fully wake up.
âMs. Maximoff has called chow time in the kitchen two hours ago. You did not respond and I am programmed to send you a reminder.â You turn to check the time. How long have you been asleep?
2:00pm
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You had slept for so long, how could you let this happen?
A rumbling wave comes from your stomach. Wandaâs supposed to cook today and everyone in the compound knows for a fact that her food is the best. Your stomach says go to the kitchen. But you can study for a while more. I mean this is what you get for sleeping so long. The study hours need to be redeemed somehow.
You sit up straight in your chair and crack the stiff joints on your body.
â§â§â§
An empty seat next to Bucky during lunch and now dinner. It wasnât unusual for you to miss a meal once in a while but Bucky returned from a mission today. On days like these youâre stuck to his hip, pecking him on the cheek, and squeezing the living life out of him. Somethingâs definitely up.
Bucky walks to your door with a plate of leftovers in his hand. He knocks. âDoll, are you in there? I brought you some food.â
You freeze. Was that?
What day is it? You know itâs Sunday but whatâs the actual date?
âF.R.I.D.A.Y. whatâs todays date?â
âToday is Sunday January 29th, 2023.â
January 29th.
Bucky is supposed to be back today. Buckyâs back!
You jump off your chair and race to the door to open it. Buckyâs wearing his gray sweatpants and a black jacket. Yup, he definitely got back today.
âHi doll, you werenât at lunch or dinner so I brought you foo-â
You knock the words out of his mouth with the sudden hug you give him. Your head digs into his chest. God how you missed this smell.
He chuckles, âI missed you too.â
Bucky starts to feel a warm patch on his chest followed by small sniffles. He places the plate on the floor and leads you to sit on your bed. Your head burrows itself further into his chest.
âDarling whatâs wrong?â
He doesnât get an answer. Instead receiving a tight hug around his waist while the sniffles grow louder. He grabs your shoulders pushing you back to look at you.
âTalk to me, I canât help if I donât know whatâs wrong.â
You stare into his eyes. How could you forget he was coming back today. Any mission could be his last and your heart glowed when he returned. It was like a habit, every time Bucky came back you would be waiting outside the quintet with the biggest hugs and kisses he could ever receive. That was until other priorities overtook your mind.
âIâm sorry.â The words mumble they're way out your mouth. Afraid if you spoke louder youâd break into sobs.
âWhat are you sorry for Y/N? You havenât done anything wrong.â
Of course he would say that. No matter what you do he always looks over your flaws as if they didnât exist. His hand runs up and down your back helping you control the sudden breaths breaking through your body. Taking a couple seconds to control your breathing, you look up.
âI forgot you were coming today I was supposed to be on the landing bay waiting for you I was just-â
âBreathe Y/N.â
He looks around the dark room and finds that the only thing lighting it is the computer screen. Balled up pieces of paper circle around your chair and scribbled flashcards litter your desk.
âWhatâs going on doll? Tell me please, I donât like seeing you in distress.â
Tears touch your lips and the salty taste fills your mouth. âIâm sorry-â
âStop apologizing.â
âMy finals are coming up and my studies have been taking up my mind. I was so focused that everything slipped my mind.â
Bucky sighed and pulled you onto his lap as you nuzzled into his chest. âOh honey.â
Your sniffles die down and Bucky takes a comfortable breath in. âHow aboutâŚâ He tickles your stomach causing streams of laughter and giggles to make their way out. â...We put some food in here, snuggle in bed, and watch a movie, yeah?â
You sure could use a break, and how could you say no to what he has to offer. You close your eyes studying the rhythm of his heartbeat. âYeah, that sounds nice.â Your arms wrap around his torso. âThank you, Buck.â
âFor what?â
You sit up in his lap, âFor always being there for me even when I donât do the same.â
He looks down and secures your head in the palm of his hands. âDonât you dare say that. Youâre there for me in more ways than you know. Just knowing that youâll be here when I return is the only thing that keeps me on my game during missions. I gotta get back to my best girl.â
You smile, âI love you Bucky.â
âI love you more Y/N.â
A smirk splays across your face. âThat's not possible.â
âTry me.â
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
a/n: THANKS FOR READING! This is my first fic and Iâm so excited to make more. Iâm really new to learning the navigation of what it takes to have an account like this, so any tips are greatly appreciated <3
#new editor#new post editor#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#winter solider imagine#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#female reader#bucky barnes fluff#stressed reader#fluff#angst#bucky barnes angst#i think that's it
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Sergeantâs Got You
18+ Minors DNI
Youâre stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.
Note: I was asked for something like this, so itâs heavy on the love for his dog tags
Pairing: beefy Bucky (but heâs got that fatws attitude) x reader
Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (Iâm a slut for it), you like Buckyâs dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, heâs rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.
Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*
You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a âyou triedâ look on their face.
Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldnât stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.
âYou alright sweetness?â Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.
You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldnât. Itâs just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.
You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.
He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.
âYou know you gotta use your words sweetheartâ One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.
He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didnât care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.
He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.
âYouâre a little slut ainât you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, youâre so lucky I donât make you clean it upâ he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.
He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.
He wasnât stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.
âYou want me to fuck you cute girl?â He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.
âWords Sweetheart, I need wordsâ He knew it wouldnât be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.
âPleaseâ fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.
âPlease what sweet thing?â he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.
âPlease use me Sirâ you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up itâs fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.
âFuck! Youâre making me go crazyâ he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didnât want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.
Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.
âWhat do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick⌠you want it bad donât you?â You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.
âYes, yes please. Use meâ he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.
He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.
Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.
âWith your mouth sweetnessâ his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.
Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.
His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.
âGodâ he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free âlook at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?â His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.
You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.
âFuck sweetheart, good girlâ he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shortsâ you didnât doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floorâ heâd have a field day making you clean it up.
âGod youâre so good, haâ making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into youâ You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.
âShit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come onâ He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of youâre soaked panties.
âFuck girl, whoâs got you like this hmm?â His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.
âMmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby⌠bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?â He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lustâ nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else sawâ no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.
âPlease Buck, just your cock I donât care just pleaseâ you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didnât want to cum without him filling you out.
He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying alreadyâ heâd barely fucking touched youâ he couldnât wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.
He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Buckyâs muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.
His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Buckyâs fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.
âMmm so sweet, if I wasnât so fucking horny Iâd make you cum all over my face⌠make you soak my mouth, shitâ he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, heâd done it before.
His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.
âyou ready sweet thing?â He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.
You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.
Bucky wasnât much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.
âOhh good girl, thatâs it mmmm shit youâre fucking clenching me tight babyâ Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.
âIâm so-â you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.
âDonât you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ainât you? I fucking love youâ His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.
âCan I move baby?â He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.
He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight youâd squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.
He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.
âShit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut arenât you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe Iâll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when youâre riding me, let them fucking swing between those titsâ god youâd love thatâ Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Buckyâs dick and thighsâ probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.
With one final thrust Buckyâs moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.
âYou were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking goodâ he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.
He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldnât tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Buckyâs dismay.
âCome on, letâs get you cleaned upâ he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.
âOh my godâ you whispered in disbelief against his head.
âWhat?â He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.
âThe sheets are ruined, I canât believe I did thatâ you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.
âIt makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no oneâ he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.
His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.
You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each otherâs presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.
âWhat? whatâs got you all giggly?â he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.
âNothing⌠just⌠were you being serious?â
âAbout what sweetheart?â He eyes you curiously.
âAbout letting me wear your dog tagsâ you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.
âWeâll discuss it laterâ he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.
Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Buckyâs embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.
-
So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.
Iâm a little nervous to post this one idk why.
I hope you enjoyed x
(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)
#bucky barnes#bucky x female reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky fanfic#marvel#bucky barnes imagine#mcu bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes#beefy bucky smut#beefy bucky#james barnes#james buchanan barnes
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Trigger Tease
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Your honeymoon from hell takes you straight to a strip club south of Madripoor, where Bucky teaches you how to give a lap dance, shoot a gun, and kill a man all in one nightâand maybe agree to have his baby, too.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Oral (m! & f!receiving). Sex in a sauna. Sex in a strip club. Praise & degradation. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Double homicide. Dickriding. Beefy, mob boss Bucky hates birth control and bad menâloves babies and killing HYDRA operatives for his wife.
Descriptions of violence throughout
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5
Roleplay was funâeven vital for a marriage like yours.
Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.
âWinter Soldierâ didnât have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, but that was no matter. What counted now was making the shot, and getting it right.
You sincerely hoped you wouldnât fuck this up.
It was no secret that the Barnesâ bloodline was steeped in dealing, stealing, gunslinging, and laundering cash. Staggering privilege, too. From the sandy shores of Curaçao to Luxembourg and Guinea-Bissau, any living heir to the dynasty could have expected to find safe refuge and respect just about anywhere that they went. It was all but engrained in their DNA at this point.
All that is to say, Bucky had no trouble finding a foreign hideaway in a pinch. He liked the Swiss Alps the best.
After your short and sweet conversation with âJoeyâ over the phoneâHYDRA hijacking the intercom systemâhe and Sam and Steve had made the split-second decision to reroute the plane to ZĂźrich, and now you were here.
72 hours into a four-day ticking time bomb and totally clueless as to how you might stave off impending death, and mitigate other casualties, the best that you could.
The stress fucking with Bucky made it worth it, though.
In between breakfast and the start of your husbandâs early briefing that day, youâd found yourself situated in much the same way youâd been spending a lot of time lately: pinned against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Buckyâs broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.
âHold still,â Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.
You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.
âI canâtâŚhelp it,â you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, âYour tongueâs just soâ sâ James!â
This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of hisââGonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doinâ that, honeyââand he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.
The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Buckyâs tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.
âHow âbout my fingers, doll? Can you take a coupleâa those for me?â Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.
After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasnât fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one âOâ. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.
Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.
âFinger,â you corrected him, âJust one finger, Barnes.â
You wouldâve thought youâd just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?
âHowâs one finger sâposed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screaminâ when I stuck it in last night,â Bucky wasnât one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.
âWho said anything about your cock?â You tried to keep cool as Buckyâs fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, âYou have a meeting in ten minutes.â
âMeeting doesnât start until I say so, my love,â Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.
In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure all the while. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was far better sustenance to him than the whole fucking meal heâd eaten that morning.
Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.
You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after youâd cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.
âAlways doinâ so good for me,â Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, âSuch a good girl for daddy.â
âJames,â you breathed, clenching your legs together.
âEverything OK?â
âUh-huh.â
More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.
âTell me how it feels,â he murmured low in your ear.
Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelingsârelatively fresh and new to your world, stillâwhile he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.
He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.
âMmâ feels so, ohââ Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, ââso good, daddy.â
âWanna show daddy how good and cum for me?â
Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldnât take much to tip you over the edge.
âMy sweet girl,â he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, âFeels so nice down there, doesnât it?â
You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Buckyâs mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.
âAnother,â you choked, not thinking.
Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.
Still, he wouldnât be Bucky if he didnât tease just a bit.
âI thought my wife wanted one finger,â he hummed, brow pinching inward.
âNo, no.â You couldâve shrieked when he curled the digit, âWant moreâ Bucky, please, please, I need more.â
Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didnât budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.
âHow many, honey? Donât wanna hurt my baby.â His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescensionâthe kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I wonât indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You couldâve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you werenât both stark naked and shrouded in steam.
You opted to pull at his hair instead.
Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.
âI said how many?â he pressed again.
âThree. Four.â Fuck if you knew.
Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt at a rapid-fire pace. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.
âNeedy little thing, isnât she?â
âBuckyââ
âJust wants to fuck daddyâs hand to get herself off, hm?â
Bucky didnât bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needsâBucky couldnât even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.
He didnât give a shit if heâd taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.
Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. Youâd forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.
âBucky,â you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, âB-Baby, slowâ slow down a little.â
But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it tooâsensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too muchâand he needed to talk you through it.
Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded againâthis time with a tender sincerity.
âFeel a little stretch down there, huh?â
You didnât have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
âThatâs daddyâs sweet, needy little slut.â
âMy perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.â
âGonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?â
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but thatâs exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.
Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over himâcrying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over. Bucky soaked in your every sound, and the few tears that would inevitably spring to your eyes, like sweet nectar.
You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouth and his and pushed them past your parted lips.
âSuck,â Bucky said, clenching his jaw as he watched you, âCâmere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.â
You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.
That slutty, fucked-out look you gave himâlike your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm heâd given youâwas everything Bucky couldâve wanted.
He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.
âI need to fuck you now.â
Buckyâs words couldnât have hung in the fog-infested air for more than a millisecond or two before he had you back in his arms and carried to the far end of the sauna.
At the doorâor, rather, on itâwith your back flush against the wood, you felt Bucky pin you in place with his hips and press his erection to that soft, cramped space between your bodies. You tightened your legs around his middle and sucked in a breath when you felt him pulse.
Then the head of his cock was circling that slick, taut ring of muscles like all hope for his future happiness lay there: right between your legs in the softest and sweetest recesses of your body he could reach. His eyes couldâve been engulfed in flames and still not betrayed a fraction of the smouldering desire that lay behind them nowâhe drank you in with a single look and sighed.
âCan Iâ do it, now?â The term âfuckingâ swiftly lost all lustre when he was an inch from your heat and ready to press in; he just needed to be in you, a part of you, now.
âYeah,â you breathed. You pressed your forehead to his.
Bucky ran his tip once more down your slit and had just begun to ease his hips forward when a moan snagged in his throat. He braced you firmer against the door, letting your arms drape over his shoulders, and was just about to slide his length inside of you, thenâ
Thump, thump, thump.
Three knocks in quick succession.
You jumped, the sudden raps reverberating up the door.
Bucky held you to him, tight, and planted a hand beside your head as if to hold the whole frame still. Then, through gritted teeth,
âWhat the fuck do you want?â
âNeed you downstairs. Now.â
It was Sam.
âCan it wait?â
âNo.â
Bucky frowned. Scratched the wood surface reflexively.
âCan itâŚwait?â he tried again, tone laden with a silent but pointed, âIs it urgent enough to drag me away from my wife when Iâm less than an inch away from being seven inside her?â Evidently, Sam got the gist, or was just keen to get him out, because he returned, quick:
âYeah. Legalâs here.â
âShitâ was Buckyâs wordless expression below you.
Then a âShit, shit, shit, just shoot me nowâ kind of look that raised an eyebrow on your own frazzled face.
Wasnât the arrival of Buckyâs legal team a good thing? Heâd been agonizing for days, badgering Sam and Steve to no end over when theyâd hear back from his retinue, and here they were. You couldnât ask just yet, as your husband was lowering you to the floor and stepping back from the door, chest racked with a shuddering breath, but you wanted to know. You reached for a towel.
âFine. Fuck. Iâll be right out.â As it was, Bucky had chosen to forgo the dry-off altogether and just started chucking clothes on his body, eyes roaming all over.
You turned from the sound of Samâs retreating steps and found him moving fast, gracelessâshoulders hunched, head bowed, pants wrestled almost angrily up his legs. He found his balance, barely, bracing his weight against the sink, then nearly tore the porcelain fixture off the wall with how hard he kicked it trying to get his left shoe on.
He muscled into his dress shirt and flushed bright red.
In a second, you had either side of the crisp white button-up between your hands, frowning.
âAny reason why weâre so upset?â you asked after a beat.
Bucky puffed a short breath over your head as you secured the first button. Then the next. Then the next.
âWhat? Apart from the fact Iâm not balls deep and about to give you your fourth orgasm?â he grumbled.
You shot him a look.
âI mean itâsâ not ideal, getting a visit at a time like this,â Bucky continued once heâd sufficiently contained half a smirk and could don a more serious look, âIf we were getting any good news they wouldâve just called.â
Hell, great news couldâve made it in an email. The whole aggregate of his legal team taking the trip from Brooklyn to ZĂźrich meant that shit had most likely hit the fan in a big way. Bucky wasnât thrilled to learn the âhowâ just yet.
Instead, he cupped your cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb along its curve once youâd made it to the last button of his shirt. He started to lean in, hoping to delay the briefing downstairs with a quick diversion to your lips, but he stopped about an inch away from your face.
Youâd lowered your touch, slipping it under the band of his boxers. He was still as hard as youâd felt him last.
Bucky let out a grunt when your fingertips grazed the soft tufts of hair adorning that part of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath when they sank even further.
âIâm sure weâll be fine,â you said, voice dulcet and slow as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.
Again, a sound rumbled deep inside Buckyâs chest, and the thumb resting on your cheek stirred. In fact, it had no other choiceâyour head was starting to move.
Descending, slowly. Sinking to the floor in front of him. Positioning yourself right above the bulge in his pants.
Now Buckyâs palm was laying flat on your head, resting light as it ever had while you drew him even closer.
âBabyââ
âYeah?â you hummed, just then tugging him out and bringing your mouth to the swollen, leaking head. Bucky gripped a good handful of your hair and rutted his hips without meaning to, and you smiled, âCanât have my husband showing up hard as a rock to his meeting.â
You were right. There was no way Bucky was getting rid of this wood without the help of his hand or one of your holes. And, under any set of circumstances, he wouldâve much preferred the latter to the former. He groaned when you took his tip to your lips and stroked him softly.
You made remarkably quick work of the man with just a minute or two, your mouth, your hand, and a tiny bit of spitâa record-breaking feat, Bucky had thought to himself with some embarrassment. But you werenât concerned with his stamina in the slightest, focusing instead on the ways in which you might maximize his pleasure in the same way heâd done for you. Stretching your lips, loosening your jaw, and taking him down as far and as frequently as you could manage without gagging around him, you had him good. Deep. All but aching for release as he took a firm hold of the sink behind him.
âThatâs aâfuck, thatâs a goodâŚfuckinâ girl.â
You bobbed your head once or twice more, flitting your gaze to his face, and felt the warmth unload in ropesâglazing your throat and every soft, square inch of your mouth as he did. Practically flooding your tongue with his cum. Bucky groaned and made a fist in your hair.
âBabyâŚshit,â came the sound of disbelief under his breath when you pulled off just enough to breathe.
You were careful how you took in air; flaring your nostrils the slightest bit, feeling a twitch at the corners of your lips as you tried not to smirk. Then, with an obscene sort of precision and purpose, you gave something else a try.
You stuck your tongue out at Bucky to show him the warm, oozing load heâd just left in your mouth.
Your husbandâs response was immediate: evidently, he loved nothing more than a show of himself inside you, displayed like a prize between your two rows of teeth. You watched him grit his own to suppress a moan.
âFuckinâ hell,â he seethed. Still reeling from his high.
Then he paused, in awe for a second, before dropping one finger to your mouth and swirling his touch along the sticky, opaque puddle resting over your tongue.
You closed your lips around him, snug, and held his gaze.
A weaker man might have come undone. Bucky just let out a breath and smiled.
âIf you wanna play show-and-tell with my cum I can find someplace to put that, doll,â he said, low as ever, then,
âCâmere.â
You didnât need the powers of telepathy to understand what heâd meant. Shouldâve known better than to dip your toe in the cumplay game with a man who arguably harbored the worldâs biggest breeding kink and really wanted to knock you up. The realization had you back on your feet in an instant. Having swallowed fast, pried your lips off his digit with a pop, and licked the corners of your mouth, you rose without the threat of a second thought.
Your pale yellow dress was the first thing you grabbedâthe first thing Bucky tried to yank off of your body when youâd slipped it up your legs and staggered backward.
âNot happening, Barnes,â you giggled, pretending not to see him advance when you stepped back.
But Bucky had never been big on civility in times like these. He lunged forward and nearly tore the barely-zipped frock off your frame, eliciting a shriek and another arch look from you as you started toward the door.
You were amazed you made it throughâyour husband had had to stop to tuck his dick back in his pants before stumbling after youâbut when you took off down the hall, you knew it was only a matter of time before you heard his footsteps thundering fast after your own.
The tips of your toes had just barely grazed the first step down the stairs when hands seized your hips. You yelped.
âBUCKY!â
Whether on account of your own practiced agility, or the fact that Buckyâs palms were still sticky and slick with his sweat, you managed to wrest yourself out of his grip just long enough to get a start down the stairs.
âCOME HERE!â Bucky boomed loud, trying his hardest not to laugh as he chased after you.
You screamed without meaning to. Yanked your wrist out of his reach when youâd made it to the bottom of the stairs and felt your husband close the distance in quick. You tried to be firm, insistent, primed with the kind of fine and unfuckwithable attitude that signaled you meant business. You didnât, thoughâthe series of giggles bubbling up in your chest said as much.
You descended the last step with a hitch, almost losing your shit within a foot of the landing, when Bucky scooped you up in his arms and held on tight. His lips were at your ear in a second, breaths coming in quick.
âHell, Iâll give you one right here, honey,â he sneered before flipping you back around to face him.
He pressed you flush to the wrought iron railing, then over it, pushing you back bit-by-bit until you had no choice but to jump and latch your legs around his hips.
âJames Buchanan Barnes, if you donâtââ
âGive you a baby right now?â
ââget off of me!â You were laughing now, squirming when he nipped at the space just below your ear.
One more second and he mightâve convinced you. Your Bucky was persuasive like that, too smug and self-assured for his own good but one hell of an advocate when he wanted to be. At length, he opened his mouth to take an even bigger, teasing bite, when a voice cut in,
âBarnes.â
He stopped. You froze. Together, you reluctantly turned your heads in the direction of the sound and found a keystone conference table situated at the far end of the roomâseating a dozen-odd faces with identical, muted expressions of surprise. Mild discomfort, for some.
Wild discomfort for your mother and father, you saw.
Bucky set you down and simultaneously yanked the hem of your dress back into place. Flashed a smile for the ages and snaked an arm around your waist as he started to lead you over.
âNat! Hi,â he tried, far too casual, âLong time no see.â
You bit the inside of your cheek hard and hoped like hell your husband had remembered to zip up his pants.
The woman at the head of the tableâthe source of the voice youâd heardâraised a brow. One cherry-red curl from her sleek, cropped bob threatened to fall out of place as she tilted her face to regard you both. The smile Bucky proffered had done nothing to repair her glare.
Some wordless exchange passed between the two of them, and next, you felt a hand directing you to a seat across the wayâSteve. Smug as ever. Smirking just then.
The empty chair beside your mother. The horror.
You were dimly aware of some introductions being made on your behalf and a round of awkward, disjointed congratulations around the table. Greetings from Nat, Sam, Steveâconceited little shitâa few you knew as Buckyâs groomsmen, a couple members of the security detail, and several more friendly, unfamiliar faces, including a smartly dressed blond named Sharon. Your husband had taken a seat by the latter at the end of the table.
âMomma.â You werenât sure why you felt the need to whisper when the attention had turned back to Natasha and other matters, but you did, âWhere have you been?â
Your mother and father were perched in their chairs like prisoners. There were no shackles to be seen but an air of discomfiture and compulsion bound to their every feature. You couldnât be sure if it was humiliation on your behalfâthey had just witnessed their son-in-law promise to put a baby in you for all present to hearâor something more.
For once in your life, you hoped it was just the prudish, sex-averse tendencies of the two rendering them silent.
You tried your mother again when she hadnât responded.
âMomma.â
âNow is not the time.â
Her voice was clipped. Abrasive.
You knew better than to test that tone another time. You sank back in your seat and let your gaze roam the table, flitting between your father and Bucky a few more times than it probably should have. Surely, your dad, who had screwed Bucky over to hell and back, obliterated your wedding, and jeopardized your lives for a few more million in his pocket would have warranted some sidelong, hateful look from your husband. A glance or a stare, certainly something to show that he knew, and hadnât forgotten.
NoâBucky was occupied with Sharon at the moment.
You watched your father twist his signet ring on his pinky, jerking the gold back and forth as if hoping for it to break, or save him. He didnât look at Bucky, either.
âNatasha Romanoff is the Barnesâ retained legal talent for all things maritime crime and narcotics trade-related. Some estate planning, too,â a voice rumbled beside you.
You made a low âHmâ to feign understanding of whatever the fuck Steve had just said, and nodded.
Then, when your eyes wandered left again,
âSharon Carter, criminal liaison and kingpin informant. Been in bed with the Barnesâ as long as I can remember.â
He really couldnât have used a worse string of words if he had tried. You cocked your head just slightly and stared at the pair. You considered holding your tongue.
âAnd sheâs been in bed with Bucky how often before?â Youâd decided against self-restraint for the time being.
Steve blinked a little harder.
âWhat do yââ
âIâm not asking if, but when, they fucked,â you interrupted.
Steve blinked again, as if to clear a string of cobwebs from his eyes, and couldnât quite find the words to answer your question. Either the truth or some half-baked crock of bullshitâthere was no in between.
âOnce,â he answered, at length. Honest.
You figured as much.
In any other situation where you were faced with one of Buckyâs former fuckbuddies, you probably wouldâve felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Mightâve even cast a dark look in the girlâs direction and willed her not to even breathe the same air as him. Then you remembered you werenât fourteen years old and could behave with some modicum of maturity when it came to some old flame of your husband. They werenât even sitting that close.
You winced when Bucky gave her shoulder a playful squeeze, though. That facial tic you couldnât control.
âSo to recap,â Natasha announced, having just plodded through a few dull formalities up front, âBarnes got the intercom call from SchrĂśder at 1500 hours, Friday.â
Every head nodded.
âSchrĂśder gave Barnes exactly ninety-six hours to recover the $90 million lost in theâŚmishap, in Brooklynââ Natashaâs eyes flickered to your father no longer than a second, ââand today is Monday. We have twenty-four hours to come up with the funds, or face theâŚpenalties of SchrĂśderâs exploding offer. Whatever those may be.â
You knew what âthoseâ were. Ms. Romanoff was either too kind or too diplomatic to say it, you reckoned, but the threat Joey SchrĂśder had made to Bucky had been patently clear: procure the cash or your wifeâs family dies.
That was why youâd been so surprised to see your mother and father seated at the table that morningâSchrĂśder had further stipulated that there was to be no contact between you and your parents in the time it took to come up with the money. Youâd been completely cut off, in the Alps, since the day of the attack, left to wonder without reprieve whether HYDRAâs bloodless henchmen had taken hostages of your parents, let them abscond to Brooklyn, or simply killed them both and sent the rest of you all on a wild goose chase to get hold of the money.
Now if theyâd only had sex once, why was she looking at him like that?âThe intruding thought couldnât be helped when you peered over againâSurely the most platonic and professional working relationships didnât call for looks like that.
Shut the fuck up. Shut the entire fuck up, please.
The lives of those closest to you were on the line and all you could think now was how well you compared to this random woman in giving Bucky head? Brain fucking rot.
You scrunched your nose and turned back to Natasha.
ââŚand up until this morning, SchrĂśderâs whereabouts were unknown,â she continued, careful as she spoke.
It seemed that part had caught Buckyâs attention, too, because he was tilting his head away from Sharon and shifting his gaze to the woman at the head of the table.
âAnd now?â he cut in.
âIâm getting there, James.â
Sharon smiled a little at that, tracing her nail on the notepad in front of her. She muttered something to Bucky, who disregarded her remark entirely.
âDo we know where SchrĂśder is?â he barked.
Across the table, Sam shifted in his seat. He glanced to Natasha, then Sharon.
âI believe we have modestly reliable intelââ he began, only to have his speech mowed over by an impatient, increasingly irate Bucky.
âNo. Noâ we donât do âmodestly reliableâ for this, Sam. We either know where the fuck the guy is or we donât.â
That last fragment seemed to hang in the air a couple seconds longer than needed, and a tense silence fell over the table. It took a new voiceâone you hadnât heard much at all yourselfâto reignite the conversation.
âI know it,â Sharon said, âI know heâs in Madripoor.â
Madripoor? The make-believe safe haven for terrorists? You couldnât tell if she was kidding at first. Then Bucky flitted a look to the side, and his expression was grave. Natashaâs, too. Maybe there was a Madripoor after all.
âOr he will be there, most likely, tomorrow night,â Steve interjected. The hands that had been folded neatly in front of him were now tapping a light and mindless beat on the table, âHeâs got the Foxy Den rented out for aâŚthing.â
Bucky rolled his eyes.
âWhere else but a titty bar would Joey host his âthingsâ?â he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
So Madripoor was real, and it had strip clubs. Wonderful.
It seemed Natasha was keen to regain control of the conversation, because she presently broke in,
âKeep in mind that time is of the essenceâa private flight from here to the Indonesian archipelago is sixteen hours minimum. We most likely canât afford to fly private, bââ
âSince when the fuck canât I afford to fly private?â Bucky spat.
You hated how short and plainly nasty he was being to all those around him. If you hadnât known any better, you mightâve thought these folks were at fault somehow, but they werenât. Your father, the real culprit, was sitting right under Buckyâs nose, and he wouldnât even look in his general direction. Your husband flared his nostrils with a new surge of indignation, and Sharon patted his hand.
âSheâs not talking finances, bub,â the blond started, âSheâs saying your jet is on a no-fly list, we donât have time to charter a new plane, and thereâs a hefty fucking bounty on your head if you ever set foot in Madripoor. We need to get you on a commercial flight, undercover.â
âFuck that.â Buckyâs response was reflexive. He rose fast.
If your parents could have appeared any more stiff and uncomfortable you might have mistaken them for two charming, thoroughly terrified wax figures. Your father continued to fiddle with his ring as he watched Bucky.
Natasha tensed as well. As soon as Bucky was up on his feet, pacing around at the end of the table, she was urging him to relax, Buck, this isnât anything we havenât done beforeâsit down, please. Bucky didnât sit, and he most certainly didnât relax, but he did kick a stool across the room.
âI am not going back to that shithole.â
The stool tumbled onto its side, one leg splintered in half. You made a mental note to look into some anger management classes. Your parents, along with most of the table, flinched at the crashing sound, while your husband stood, supremely agitated, and did not even regard the broken chair. He turned away from Natasha.
âYeah, well, that âshitholeâ is our only hope of getting SchrĂśder behind bars and you out of custody, Bucky,â Natasha called as he started to pace away.
âThe fuckâs that supposed to mean?â
Bucky tilted his head to the side. He contemplated snagging a bottle of Macallan 25 off the bar cart by the window but decided against it.
âHave you been listening to a word of what Iâve said all weekend?â Natasha returned, almost as biting, âTurned on MSNBC or CNN or any other news outlet in the last forty-eighty hours?â
She dropped her own notepad on the table and scanned the area in search of something else. Sam and Steve took that as their opportunity to jump in.
âBucky,â Sam started, calmly, âThere were over a dozen foreign attachĂŠs and two heads of State at your wedding, half of whom are now being hospitalized for injuries they sustained in the attack.â
âSo?â Bucky snapped.
His eyes were already trailing back to the cart.
âSo you think the U.N. Security Council was just gonna let that slide?â
âTwo-thirds of its members have been up in arms, practically chomping at the bit to get someone pinned for the fucking thingâthat leaves you or SchrĂśder on the chopping block,â Steve chimed in.
âSo one more federal probe. Whatâs the big deal?â Bucky hardly realized heâd taken a tumbler in his hands.
Just as heâd turned to pour himself a drink, guided more by bare muscle memory than anything else, Natasha raised a manila folderâthe item sheâd been looking for. Heâd filled his glass half full when the folder was flung his way like a frisbee. He narrowly saved himself a papercutâor tenâby ducking his head, almost spilling his drink.
âThe fuck, Nat?!â he bellowed.
âExtradition, Bucky. Search warrants for your Brooklyn residence, all your money service businesses up the Eastern Seaboard, and a whole hell of a lot of other financial records that we do not need dredged up in this mess.â Natasha pointed to the folder on the floor, which had just spilled a litany of documents at his feet.
âLet them.â Bucky wasnât fazed by the warrants, walking over them as he drank, âIâm not going to Madripoor."
This time, it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes as she swiveled in her chair to face Bucky. She was turned from you now, but you could almost smell the smug, knowing look she raked over your husband as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back.
"We don't have time for this," she said, coolly, "If you have any hopes of getting the Counter-Terrorism Committee off your ass and SchrĂśder in custody, you'll listen to Nat."
Bucky paused, weighing her words in his mind before meeting her gaze again. He brought his glass to his lips and drained it.
Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by the idea that she was the only one to have shut Bucky upâto have made him listen, as it wereâSharon piped up again. You didn't need to see her face to know for certain there was a smirk etched across it,
"Don't look so glum, honey. We have no choice here."
It startled every last soul at that table, yourself included and Sharon especially, when the cup in Bucky's hand sailed across the room and shattered on the edge of a cabinet close by. Before the glass had so much as splintered and scattered half of its jagged shards along the floor, your husband was stalking, then stopping, then looming over Sharon with an implacably dour look. And a jaw set tight as you'd ever seen it.
"My choice," he seethed, so low the words almost came out in a murmur, "is to protect my wife. Whatever you, or Natasha, or anyone else has in mind comes second to that. Do you understand?"
Sharon nodded that she did.
A hushed silence fell over the room once more, only now its duration was greater, and the cause of itâyour red-faced, fuming husbandâhad turned his back to the group and was retrieving from the bar cart another glass. Another drink. Natasha followed his path with a vigilant eye.
"Bucky," she said.
Bucky didn't answer. Filled his new glass to the brim.
"Bucky," Natasha tried with a little more volume and vigor.
Your husband lifted the cup to his mouth and started to guzzle, against every shrill and helpless plea from his liver, you guessed. You wanted to object, to take leave of your seat as quick as you could and knock the thing out of his hand before he could finish, but Natasha had you beatânot with any physical act but a word to slow him down: "Barnes."
Then, a few more to get him to stop entirely:
"Look. Over there."
She pointed to a slip of paper somewhere at the top of the shuffle.
Bucky shifted his gaze to the floor. You saw him lick both corners of his mouth, bathed in whiskey residuum and a light, nascent spatter of stubble. He looked almost menacing in spite of the grin that kicked up.
"What's this?" he murmured.
"The terms of SchrĂśder's newest offer. The one he made this morning."
Bucky's second glass was discarded in an instant.
He dropped to his knees, seized the paper in his hands and pored over the bare, 11-point Times New Roman typeface like it was the single most precious set of words in the world to him. There were several mountains of text, and you sensed he couldn't begin to under the legal jargon with just one cursory look.
"What? What's'it mean?" Bucky wouldn't tear his gaze away, even as he shouted to Natasha.
Your own eyes probably should've been fixed on Bucky, or in your lap, or out the window, reflecting in silence on what the fuck could be going on and why it felt as though things were suddenly coming to a perilous head. Instead, you pivoted to Natasha. Her face was tilted to you.
Then she spoke to Bucky, still crouched on the floor a few feet away from her, but she kept her focus on you. She spoke carefully.
"SchrĂśder won't take the money, Bucky."
"What?"
Bucky's gaze combed over the page, desperate to make sense of what was printed in front of himâ"The hell's this all mean, Nat, tell me what it means and what he wants, for fuck's sake."âand he flipped the document. Read some more. His eyes flitted from line to line in a full-blown terror.
Then the eyes stopped in one spot.
Bucky stood.
Fisting the letter in one hand and making a wild, inarticulate gesture with the other, he probably could've seared a hole in Natasha's head with the force of his stare. She refused to meet it.
"This is a joke, isn't it?"
All of a sudden, your father leaned over your mother to you,
"We can make it work. We can keep youâ"
"Hey. Don't talk to her. Don't fuckin' look at her. Is thisâ"
"âsafe. We'll keep you safe, darling, I swear."
"âsome kind of sick fucking joke?!"
You stared at your dad in disbelief. Bewilderment. Then you chanced a look at Bucky, who had all but gone blue in the face as he approached your father from the opposite end of the table, letter still crushed in his hand.
Your father averted his gaze.
He knew.
You saw him flick the gold signet on his pinky once more, and for reasons you didn't yet understand yourself, you couldn't look away from it, or him.
Surely this scared-shitless son of a bitch could speak to you now. He'd have to. There was no way he wouldn't when the problem was staring him right in the face and his son-in-law was practically apoplectic with rage in front of him.
Something clicked in Bucky's brain.
He knew.
Your husbandâs breath caught with the full weight of the realization, and he blinked. He didnât hesitate; he simply sidestepped Sam and Steveâwho had stood as soon as they saw the look of understanding cross over his faceâand he seized your father. You heard a scream, most likely from your mother, and you saw Bucky swing, but the act barely registered as real until his fist first cracked against your dadâs skull. Again. And again. And again.
Somewhere in the raucous din and sounds of punches, kicks, and muffled groans, a discharge of blood, and the dim recognition that some of the stuff was dousing you, too, you managed to make out several words, disjointed:
ââFUCKING KILL YOUâSOLD HERâSOLD HER?!â
Roleplay was funâeven vital for a marriage like yours.
Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.
âWinter Soldierâ didnât have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, it was true, but it was an alter-ego heâd been given from his earliest days as a made man. A caricature of himself that was to represent everything he did and was capable of doing in places like Madripoor.
You didnât know that side. You didnât like that side.
It was Bucky, and it wasnâtâpummeling your fatherâs face in the ground after learning that he had offered you up, again, in satisfaction of a debt. Sparing no feelings when he spoke to Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sharon, or anyone, making clear his wifeâs safety was paramount.
Maybe you were meant to feel proud. Or flattered. Or safe. But oddly, the longer youâd stared at the bloodied, bruised fist he held above your fatherâs face and the half-deranged look of anger on his own, the more you began to wonder if the fury was for your protection, or simply a knee-jerk response to the thought of losing a possession. A mere object that he couldnât bear to part ways with.
You had thought long and hard about where the Soldier stopped and Bucky began. No matter where you landed, you were far from comfortable with the conclusion.
Now, even as you stood two feet away from the man in an upper-level lounge of the Foxy Den, roughly half a day removed from the whirlwind turn of events that almost sent your father to hospital, you hardly knew what to say.
âZip me up?â
The closest thing youâd had to conversation in hours. Bucky obliged.
You viewed your new dress in the mirror from the side and made a face. Pretended to examine the tight black number but were really just zeroing in on the sight of Buckyâs knuckles as he dragged the zip up your back. He hadnât bothered to mend his hands, and you hadnât thought to offer to bandage them up. You tried not to stare.
The hands paused at the top of your dress and froze.
Then crept back slowly, taking the zip along with it.
âWannaâ?â
âBucky!â
One low groan, followed by a palm to his worn and wearied face. When you spun around, he didnât move.
âAre you serious?â you bit.
âWill you talk to me now?â Bucky retorted.
To be fair, neither he nor his Winter Soldier persona knew how to solve the silent treatment from a pissed-off wife. This was brand new territoryâbeing ignored for hours on endâand frankly, he had thought a playful request for sex might make you more amenable to conversation.
He had thought wrong.
You stared daggers at his handsome face and raised a finger as though to warn him, then stopped. Opened your mouth as if to speak, then appeared to decide against it. A steady, pulsing bass from the floors below was all that could be heard, and momentarily, you were reminded of why you were all here in the first place:
Locate SchrĂśder. Corner SchrĂśder. Capture SchrĂśder. Bring the bad man to justiceâor else just pump the motherfuckerâs head full of lead and be done with it.
You werenât too familiar with the particulars of the plan, but that had seemed to be the heart of it. Bucky never intended for you to stray from the safety of the lounge upstairs, where half of his team were casing the club through dozens of surveillance cameras, and he would likely take off with Sam and Steve the second youâd finished dressing. Now would be the time to talk.
And you planned to. Eventually.
For now, though, youâd let him sweat it out.
You had long envied women with effortless sex appeal and charisma. The kind that seemed to be made for the stage, capable of transfixing any audience, or individual, with little more than their aura alone. Youâd never felt a fraction of that allure emanate from yourself before, personally, but looking at Bucky now brought you as close as youâd ever been. He was enthralled by your every move, he was intrigued at all times, you could see.
He was visibly aroused before you had even touched him. You knew it was cruel and unkind before you were even fully conscious of what you were doing, but you did it.
Someone had to teach this man how to control his angerâand his urgesâsomehow. Who better than you?
You drew closer to Bucky until your fronts almost touched.
âBaby,â you murmured. Simple, nearly plaintive.
Bucky blanched. Could it be? Had his bullshit gambit actually paid off and made you want to talk, or possibly do more? His hands immediately went for your hips, but you were quick to shove them off. You poked one finger to his chest and shook your head.
âWe can talk,â you said, measured.
You pressed into his sternum and pretended not to see a short-lived look of defeat, followed by confusion, cross Buckyâs features. He let you walk him back a step or two.
âOkay. What about?â
Where the hell could you even begin?
âSit first,â you urged him.
It was then that he realized youâd been walking him toward the plush sectional couch behind himâa cozy little touch to the VIP room only marginally diminished by the fact that it was coated in liquor, coke, and glitter. Bucky sat down anyway.
You didnât follow, choosing instead to stand as you appeared toâŚscratch something on your back? Your husband looked on in muted curiosity as you reached behind yourself and tilted your torso just slightly.
Then he heard a zip. A hitch. Another, longer drag.
Bucky knew he was fucked before you ever slipped the dress off your body. You were to make quick work of it, eyes never leaving the man in front of you as you peeled the fabric down your legs and off of your frame entirely. When you were down to just your underwear, you hadnât even needed to see his face to know exactly where his gaze was likely to landâthis part was new to him. You kicked the dress aside and let him stare.
To be fair, it wasnât every day he got to see a Ruger LC9 strapped to your thigh. Hidden in plain sight now that you were stripped bare before him in just your bra, panties, and garter-like holster across the top of your leg.
âWhereâd you get that?â Bucky nearly choked, eyes wide.
âTJ Maxx,â you huffed, âWhere the fuck do you think?â
âI never said you couldâ And Sam and Steveââ
Bucky paused, suddenly aware of how indignant and stupid he was starting to sound. He had given orders to the rest of his team not to let you carry a gun under any circumstances, but here you were. If he werenât so violently aroused by the sight of you wearing the thing, he probably wouldâve been fuming.
âA couple guys from your security detail were kind enough to make an exception,â you smiled, words verging on smug, âAnd whoâs to say what I âcanâ and âcanâtâ do, hm?â
Bucky looked as though he were priming himself to stand when you lifted one stiletto to rest between his legs on the seat. A silent and quasi-sweet threat in one gesture.
âI didnât say you canâtâ wellââ Bucky faltered at the last.
âYou just said you never gave me permission!â You threw your hands up in exasperation, âThat doesnât sound very equitable to me, James.â
Bucky let out a frustrated sigh of his own.
âCâmon. You know what I mean, honeyâŚI justâŚwant to keep you safe. You know that.â
âSelf-defense is a pretty integral part of safety.â
âNo oneâs ever taught you to shoot!â
âYou never bothered to ask!â
This was getting a little too aggressive and Jerry Springer-eqsue for your liking. Not nearly sexy or seductive enough to be heading in the direction you wanted. Bucky always brought the bickering out of you, but you had to stay strong. Slow and steady and all that bullshit.
So, before he could respond to your last remark, you lowered yourself over him. Brought both legs to bracket his hips and hovered carefully in place above the bulge in his tactical pants. When he swallowed beneath you and raked his gaze over your body, you felt a twinge of relief.
You sank further down. Dragged your lower half over his own and earned a groan from deep within his throat. Again, his hands flew to your waist to get a good grip, but you pried them off before they could ever fully sink into the flesh.
âWhat?â Impatience palpable in Buckyâs tone.
âNo,â you answered simply.
âNo?â
âNo, you donât get to touch me. You donât own me.â
Your husband shifted under your body, hands helpless at his sides and masseter muscle visibly clenching beneath the skin as he gritted his teeth. He shook his head.
âI never said that I did,â he managed, after a pause, âBaby, I love you.â
âAnd beating the shit out of my dad was your special way of showing that?â
âThat wasnâtââ
âOr snapping at Natasha. And Sam. Steve. Sharon,â you added emphasis to the last name without really meaning to, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.
âYes. IâŚlost my temper, Iââ
âCouldnât control your anger. Or wouldnât. All because my dad made some stupid deal with a man and offered me up as collateral.â
âBecause Joey wants you for himself!â Bucky snapped, voice suddenly raised to a near-deafening pitch. He shifted his hips and inadvertently grazed the heat between your legs, drawing a subtle pinch in his brow at the friction, âThe deal your dad made was to give you over to SchrĂśder in satisfaction of his own fucking debtâyou think I was just gonna sit by and let that happen?!â
In spite of the animosity, you pressed your body to his even harder and watched him foldâif only slightly. He breathed a sharp inhale through his nose and flexed both his hands, as if wanting to make fists. However, he knew better than to move himself around at a time like this.
âWhat? Like the deal you made with him?â
Your words were clipped, almost cruel. You knew it would hit a nerve in Bucky, and sure enough, he met you right where you wanted him: enraged.
âThatâs fucking different,â he seethed, âI wouldâve paid your fatherâs debt withoutâ without anything in it for me.â
âBut you didnât, and you got me.â
âAnd I love you. I donât wanna lose you.â
The abrupt vulnerability in his voice was all but agony to hear. For a second, it seemed the anger had fledâor at least been eclipsed by some softer, sweeter shadeâonly for Bucky to blink again, shake his head, and wear that stupid, hardened look that said, âI am not losing this.â Your hands reached for his belt and started in on the zip.
âYou have a real fucked up way of showing love, James.â
To your surprise, Bucky let you continue, unhindered. Blue eyes meeting yours in a cold look.
âMakes two of us,â he mumbled, shrugging his boxers and trousers out of the way anyway.
That was probably true. No person in their right mind would think fucking their husband was the safest, most surefire way to let him know they were pissed at him, but both you and Bucky were working on communication skills, still. Youâd get to healthy, non-sex-fueled fights at some point.
As it was, Bucky was fumbling around your thighs, trying to pry them open even wider for better access through your panties. That you allowed, but the second he tried manhandling you over his crotch, you pushed back.
âI wanna do thisâ without your help,â you said, firm.
Somewhat begrudgingly, Bucky agreed. He let you line yourself up with his length, brace your weight against his shoulders, and when you paused, he made a soft, âHm?â and glanced down where you looked. Before you could remove the pistol from its holster, he set his palm atop the cool metal.
âLeave it,â he murmured.
His eyes flashed with desire. It was almost more than you could bear, despite the plain fact that riding someone with a firearm strapped to your thigh probably violated every NRA gun safety rule known to man. Whatever.
You lowered yourself onto Bucky, slow, and sucked in a quick breath as he filled you. Your husband groaned.
âFuck,â followed shortly thereafter, almost timid to crawl out of his mouth as you sank to a fully-seated position on top of him. He gripped the armrest beside him.
When your hips first stirred, you thought the man might burst a blood vessel trying not to move right along with you. You pressed a hand to his chest and reminded him, gently but with purpose: let me fucking do this, Bucky, and he relented. Fisting the couch cushion in something close to a death grip, he nodded his head and heaved a short breath and watched you all the while, grinding on him.
âMy prettyâŚpretty girl,â he managed through his teeth.
He was doing better than you expected. You watched his face contort with pleasure when you lifted yourself up to the tip of his cock and slide back down. You squeezed his shoulders, and you let out a low whimper yourself, and dammit all, you felt that pesky fucking knot already forming in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down and frowned, wanting this to last so much longer.
Fortunately, when your eyes found Buckyâs again, you got the sense that he was in the same boat as you: brow furrowed tight in concentration and lips parted slightly, panting in time with each one of your movements.
âBaby,â he said, the single word treading close to a plea. He paused, dropped a glance to the spot where your bodies were coupled, and swallowed. He cursed aloud, then continued, quietly, âBabyâŚâmâsorry.â
âSorry for what?â You bounced a bit faster.
âForâ fuckinâ hell, honeyâ for being aâŚdick.â The last part of his sentence was pierced by a grunt and a moan, but you heard it just the same.
You clenched around him and tried to keep steady. Manage a small, shit-eating grin above him, even.
âBeing a dick?â you repeated, pretending not to know what he meant. When his cock grazed over a particularly sensitive place inside you, you just swallowed the moan and kept going, fingers taking hold of some short tufts of hair at the back of Buckyâs head as you rode him.
âPossessive. Controlling. Kind of aââ Bucky paused to grunt when he bottomed out inside, hands aching to hold you, ââpiece of shit.â
Finally, you were getting somewhere. Not nearly close enough to cure the rage or the dark, grating impulses churning inside of him, but good enough, for now.
You reached for his hands and set them over your hips.
The next most natural thing was to lean down and kiss himâlet his tongue invade your mouth as soon as heâd caught your lips and show you, with a wordless and fast-moving show of affection, that he missed you. And meant what heâd said. With his hands moving quick to cup your cheeks, hold you to him while he kissed you and stroked deep inside your walls, he gripped you tighter than he had in a while. You could feel strips of tension and desperation bleed through his every fingertip.
âWannaâŚfuckinâ kill anyone who even thinksâŚofâ fuck,â Buckyâs words were almost slurred at this point, so close to the point of release it seemed every wild and wanton thought that crossed his mind was likely to dance off his tongue, unchecked. You loved to see him in it this deep.
You also had to remind the murderous alter ego that violence was not the answerâŚalways. You let him pull you closer, bodies pressed flush against each other while you fucked, but you made sure to tilt his chin up to yours so he could see the expression on your face as you spoke.
âHey,â you pinned him with one stern look, âNo murder.â
Bucky frowned.
âYes murder,â he retorted.
You sighed.
This shit was worse than teaching a dog not to bite.
Instead of pulling back or being strict this time, though, you decided youâd give positive reinforcement a try. You squeezed his short locks of hair, gently, and rolled your hips even tighter to his, eliciting a stuttered groan. You bounced up and down on his cock, pulled him into your chest, and brought your face within an inch of his.
âPromise to be good, and Iâll let you cum inside me,â you murmured into his lips. Not the wisest offer youâd made to date, but one that Bucky seemed to want more than the air in his lungs the second the words escaped you. He pulled you in for a kiss, immediately.
âFuck, you mean it?â he breathed, in between each sloppy, frenzied movement of his mouth.
âYeah,â you tried not to grin at how eager he seemed, âYouâre gonna apologize to everyone, right?â
âUh-huh.â
Bucky barely seemed to register anyone or anything but you and your pussy at the moment, yearning for the go-ahead to let himself free inside you. With a nod of your head, youâd let him start meeting your motions with gentle thrusts of his own, and both of you were teetering precariously close to the edge with that added pressure. In spite of both your hot and heady, near-anoetic states, you endeavored to hold out a little longer, legs aching.
âGonna try and talk to SchrĂśder first?â you panted.
Bucky rutted into you hard, lips twitching into a frown.
âDoesnâtâŚdeserve it,â he grunted, barely able to get the words out as he grabbed your hips and thrusted harder, âA fucking bullet between the eyes is what he needs.â
You eyed him soberly, or as serious as you could manage with the force of his strokes nearly sending you into a spiral. You fought back a moan and gripped him tighter.
âBucky.â
âBunny.â
Damn, that name.
âPromise me you wonât kill himâor anyoneâtonight.â
âBabyââ
âPromise.â
His thrusts were getting sloppier; with his hands hoisting you just above him and his cock practically drilling into you now, speech and coherent thought were some of the toughest things to accomplish, but he tried it, anyway. Bucky would swallow his pride and accede to his wife, no matter how fucking badly he wanted to cumâand kill that Russian mob boss with both his bare, bloody hands.
He could be better than the Winter Soldier. He would.
With a rough, labored breath, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss and felt you squeeze around his cock like a vice. Still thrusting, clutching you, kissing you hard, he saw both of your releases coming in fast and had to act even quicker.
âIâ I promise,â he stammered.
That was all either of you needed, or could bear, quite frankly. In the next second or two, you felt a cord snap in your lower half and a deep, punchy flurry of pleasure follow shortly thereafter, fingers sinking deep in Buckyâs shoulders as he bounced you on his cock and held you close. With your walls still pulsing around him, you felt him chase his own high at a breakneck pace, shooting his load inside you a moment later. It was bad, it was brash, it was a really fucking dumb idea to be playing around with the odds of making babies at a time like this, but it also felt good. Exhilarating, even, feeling him empty his balls in that space between your wet, aching walls and filling you up with his seed.
Maybe just one little mini-Bucky wouldnâtâ
STOP.
You barely had the energy to acknowledge, much less arbitrate that bone-crushing conflict between your brain and reproductive organs, so you shut the thoughts up with a quick, messy kiss to Bucky, whose chest was still heaving from the peak of his release, holding you to him.
âI love you.â
âI love you, too.â
Maybe even twoâ
FUCK YOU.
The internal war wouldnât go away that easy, it seemed.
You kissed Bucky long and hard regardless, hoping the shit would sort itself out before you really had to think. Or worry. Or plan. It was dumb and a bit short-sighted, but feeling that hot, erratic pulse between your legs did a pretty good job of making it seem just fine for right now.
Buckyâs expression was lax. Soaking in the feel of your cum-painted insides still squeezing around him, gently. Had he been anywhere but the heart of Low Town on a covert mission in a strip club, hunting down the head of HYDRA with a whole troupe of trained assassins, he probably wouldâve liked to stay that way a little longer. But, as it was, he could already hear folks filing in and out of the lounge, footfalls growing heavier as his team loaded up with guns, grenades, and whatever other weapons they could fit beneath their formal attire.
âDonât look so sad,â you said as you lifted off of Bucky. Carefully pulling your panties back into place as your husband watched you do it, practically forlorn.
âToo late,â he returned in half a groan, yanking his own clothes where they needed to be and trailing a look up your legs, âMight feel better if we tried it again, though.â
âI bet.â You pulled your dress over your head.
Your husband had just tightened his belt and was rolling his shoulders to get a knot out of his neck, it seemed.
âWhat are your thoughts on âBucky Jr.â?â he asked casually.
âDonât start with this shit.â
âJamie for a girl, maybe?â
âIâll kill you.â
Your baby talk and death threat tĂŞte-Ă -tĂŞte continued for quite some timeâjust a couple minutes, but they felt like years to youâand before long, you were rubbing the gun under your dress and casting a glare in Buckyâs direction, and he got the sense that it was time to head back to the group. He looped an arm around your waist and led you out into the main space.
The living room was little more than a makeshift headquarters at that point. Youâd been expecting to see more faces, but the only ones you found were Sam, Natasha, and a few silent, beefy individuals you assumed were part of security. Where Sharon and your parents had gotten off to was anyoneâs guess. You took a seat on the couch.
âAnything yet?â Bucky questioned, approaching the panel of surveillance screens with a wary eye.
âWeâve had intermittent visuals on the second floor for forty minutes or soââ Sam motioned to one screen on the left, ââbut SchrĂśder hasnât moved. Hasnât done anything but bullshit and booze and buy rounds for his group. Wonât even talk to the dancers, which is weird.â
From what youâd been told, the goal was to get SchrĂśder off the second floor, up to one particular private suite on fourth, then send in an agent dressed as a bottle girl to make entry as soon as the rest of the party had arrived, keeping in contact with HQ, and Sam, via PTT earpiece all the while. The details from that point were hazy, but youâd gotten the sense that someoneâor, more likely, a sizable and duly-equipped group of someonesâwas lying in wait somewhere in the suites surrounding them. Steve had been tasked with leading the incursion, though where he could be found, or whom he was with, remained largely a mystery to you. Recon in a bustling, crowded area with music blaring on all four sides was a formidable undertaking, and you could tell both Sam and Natasha had been having trouble keeping tabs on every player. They seemed on edge, monitoring the screens.
âWonât talk to the dancers?â Buckyâs brow pinched in.
âWonât talk to anyone outside of his inner circle,â Natasha said, grim, âWhich leads me to think heâs not staying here long. Probably called his associates in for a speedy-quick deal because he knows heâs being tailed.â
âHasnât engaged with any of our undercovers?â Bucky pressed.
Natasha and Sam shook their heads. Your husband groaned.
âThen how the hell are we getting him upstairs to the champagne room? If he hasnât budged and doesnât look like heâs planning to stay?â
The looks on the faces in front of him said there wasnât one readily available answerâor any answer at all. Bucky turned back to the screens and seemed to survey the whole panel, gaze cooling with the first inkling that this operation may be classed a failure in the very near future.
He barked some half-coherent babble about strategy, security, and failsafes, then barked for Steve.
And, as if on cue, Steve appeared at the threshold of the room a moment later, breathless and slightly flushed.
âRogers, youâre supposââ Sam started, eyes widening at something you couldnât quite discern from his arrival.
âI know, I know,â Steve cut in, fast, âWant the good news or bad news firââ
âJust spit it out,â Natasha said, preemptively unnerved.
âSchrĂśderâs headed to the suite right nowââ
Bucky raised both eyebrows at Steve as he continued.
ââbut they wonât let Wanda in.â
âFuckâ was the first audible word from your husband, then Sam, in short order. Wanda must have been the agent playing bottle girl upstairs. This didnât sound good.
âWhy the fuck wonât they let her in?â Bucky snapped.
âSomeone mightâve tipped his security off. Or else theyâre just being extra cautious about whoâs let in.â
Steve fiddled with one cufflink on his suit and tried not to appear too despondent, but the implications of this single event were huge, you could read on every face in the room. Wanda had been meant to do something important before the rest of the brigade mobilizedâtake some key step that couldnât be omitted from the plan.
âSo we retreat.â Natasha was not one to mince her words, per usual, âGet your guys out of the suites now.â
Buckyâs fingers twitched at his sides.
âNo,â he said, sharply, âWeâre not doing that.â
âBucky.â
âWeâll get someone in there. Weâll find another way.â
Your husband was already pacing the space in front of you, and you looked on with uncertain eyes. You chanced a look to Natasha, Sam, and Steve, all of whom shared similar, albeit slightly more wearied, expressions as they watched and murmured among themselves.
âNone of our people are getting up there, Barnes. SchrĂśderâs got a goddamn sixth sense about our agents or something,â Steve said, at length.
âTheyâre all in masksâfor a fucking masqueradeâand we canât get one person in?! In-and-out, thatâs all it needs to be,â Bucky growled.
âWe canât get in there, thatâs the point,â Sam sighed, âMasks or no masks, they know our people too well and wonât let us through.â
âWe can at least try, for Christâs sake. Thatâs what we came this whole fuckinâ way to do, right?â
When no one said a word in response, Bucky scowled,
âRight?â
There was a lull in the conversation that seemed to last for minutes, when, in reality, couldnât have been more than ten or fifteen seconds. Tensions were high. You could tell from the look in Buckyâs eye he was trying not to lash out as he normally would, but in no time at all, you saw a fractional break in his resolve. You feared he might fly off the handle, or else compromise something that couldnât be spared at a time like this. You swallowed.
âIâll go.â
It was stupid.
Every face turned to regard you as if you were stupid, you assumed as soon as the words had left your mouth.
But then, much to your surprise, Steve was perking up, eyes suddenly brighter as his gaze tilted to you.
âShe could,â he said, shortly.
âShould she?â Sam seemed to murmur at once.
âSure, why not?â
âI can think of plenty reasons why not,â Natasha was quick to counter, but beneath that pensive expression, you couldâve sworn you saw the smallest degree of contemplation. Even hope, from the looks of it.
âNOâ was Buckyâs wordless, immediate, and resounding answer as he kicked whatever furnitureâa footstool, this timeâwas closest to him and sent it flying toward the door. It seemed that self-control of his had worn off fast.
âNo,â he affirmed in a word a second later, jaw clenched, âShe is going nowhere near that suite.â
He didnât even spare you a glance while he spoke. He was too busy eyeing the others, Steve specifically, as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and a light, blooming tinge of pink rose the length of his neck. If it werenât for that staunch and menacing look on his face, he wouldâve almost looked cute, you mused to yourself.
But, pretty man be damned, you wouldnât stand for being ignored. Fuck that noise.
âI will,â you returned, a little more resolute this time.
Now Bucky had no choice but to pivot to you. His expression softened some, but not by much.
âNo,â he said, again.
âYes.â
âBabyââ
âDonât fucking âbabyâ me, Barnes. You said someone who wasnât an agent could make it up there, and I can do it. Or try, at least, like you just said.â
If your attention hadnât been fixed on your husband, you probably wouldâve caught sight of more than one thinly veiled smile from the group around you. Natasha, in particular, all but tickled to see someone stand up to Bucky and give him a taste of his own shitâand live to tell the tale. The sight of her bossâs eyes almost glossy in the first tender look sheâd seen from him in years was almost too much to bear. Steve stood grinning beside her, and Sam narrowly stifled an exhale of amusement. Neither you nor Bucky flinched from your positions.
âWe canât risk you being around him. Theyâre already all on high-alert,â your husband said after a calming breath.
âAs are all your trigger-happy comrades waiting just ten feet outside the door, right?â you replied, âWhat is it, like, five, ten of them in total?â
âTwenty,â Steve interjected. Bucky shot him a look.
âI donât care. I donât want you up there when that fucker was just trying toâ to kidnap you last week. Iâm notââ
âRight. Right. Trying to kidnap me, not kill me. If SchrĂśder wanted me dead, he wouldâve made pretty quick work of that before,â you cut in, tone a touch more deliberate, âEven if he sniffs me out, heâs not gonna screw this whole deal by hurting me now.â
But the mere suggestion of harm to you had seemed to raise every hair on its end for Bucky, and then he was shaking his head, evidently more stubborn than ever.
âNo, fuck. Donât start,â he snapped with his newfound indignation, then, quieter, âPleaseâŚdonât, honey.â
You wouldnât bow that easily.
âWhy not?â
Truly, Bucky couldnât be certain if it was the lilt in your voice, the pinch at the sides of your lips, or simply the sincerity consuming your eyes as you spoke to him, but the man could not stomach the thought of you, his own wife, being a stoneâs throw from mortal danger and beyond his protectionâor control, he wasnât sure which one of the two was more dominating. Some cruel and unforgiving knot inside him came to tighten, and twist, and, nauseating as it was set on escape, the white-hot surge rose like bile in his throat. Before he could stop it, the words were spilling out through his teeth like froth:
âCause I fuckinâ said so, thatâs why. Thatâs it. Itâs settled. Youâre not allowed anywhere near him, you hear me?â
What Bucky hadnât expected was the swift ascent back to your feet. The cool and almost careless expression as you rose, as though his words hadnât registered at all.
He certainly hadnât expected you to check him with your shoulder as you passed, knocking him slightly off-balance as he turned, in shock, and watched you give him one manicured middle finger over your left shoulder.
âRogers, Iâd like you to escort me upstairs.â
Worst of all, Bucky hadnât expected Steve to listen.
Fortunately for him, the night was still young and with it, more than ample opportunity to be proven wrong again. And again.
âAnd again,â Steve murmured low in your ear as you walked side-by-side down the corridor on fourth floor, âIf you get even the slightest bad feeling, you leave.â
âMight as well dip right now,â you muttered, adjusting your mask. Your attempt at humor fell flat with the man.
âIâm serious. Weâll be right outside and listening in from headquarters, but HYDRA is not a faction to fuck around with, or underestimateâas I assume you know by now.â
You did. Or would, eventually.
After the mask, you were busy trying to yank the back of your cocktail waitress dress to cover the full swell of your ass, not just the upper two-thirds. Unsurprisingly, it was a tougher task than you had been prepared to handle. Your new heels were tight and impossibly high, your new dress a mere scrap of pink fabric riddled with sequins and glitter, and your maskâholy fuck, were you glad Mardi Gras was not a year-round affair. Bucky had insisted on the fluffiest, stuffiest, full-face covering to ensure that no one would be able to recognize you, but in exchange for your anonymity, you had had to give up breathing, it seemed.
And then there was that vial of poison between your tits.
Sam had assured you that it was a nonlethal dose before handing it over; Steve had urged you, discreetly, to pour SchrĂśder two for good measure. Natasha had overheard the latter and threatened legal action if he ever tried killing a target without her permission. You hadnât spent much longer getting ready in the bathroom after that. Then youâd brushed past your husband the second youâd stepped out and strapped that last, semi-lethal âaccessoryâ to your bra before taking the lift upstairs.
As it turned out, you werenât able to escape him entirely.
While you walked with Steve, Bucky was in your ear.
Literallyâthe man was talking nonstop through your earpiece and clearly had no intention of shutting the fuck up anytime soon. You silently wondered if there was a way to adjust the volume on the gadget as you ambled along.
âHoney.â There was a slightly more mechanical buzz to Buckyâs voice over your private line. You ignored it.
âSo just find the cup heâs drinking from and pour the serum in?â you reiterated to Steve for the third time in the last ten minutes.
Your companion nodded, rattling off a few extra precautions while Buckyâs tone rang out a bit louder:
âHoney? You there?â
At last, you stuck your finger to the tiny flesh-colored device in your ear and snapped, âWhat?!â
âI love you.â
This fucker.
âI love you too. Youâre still high on my shit list, though,â you answered, low and begrudgingly.
âDid I hear âhit listâ? Youâre gonna let me tap that later?â
If you didnât have about fifteen different reasons to hate the manâs guts, you almost wouldâve chuckled. At length, you muttered a quiet, âKiss my ass, Barnes,â and turned back to Steve, who was just then leading you closer to a room roped off and marked âEXECUTIVE SUITE.â Your stomach did a flip as you paused around the corner.
âRight there. All you gotta do is knock and say a guy named Zemo sent you,â Steve spoke slowly, as if he were teaching arts and crafts to a five-year-old and not a woman about to embark on a high-risk sedation mission.
You nodded and took the silver tray from him carefully.
All the platter contained was an oversized bottle of Brut and a silver bucket, but damn if it didnât feel like you were carrying the world and some change on that thing. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and turned in the direction of the door just a few yards away.
The time for painstakingly descriptive instructions and pep talks was long past you now. You nodded to Steve one last time and started to wobble over.
The entryway was flanked by two muscle-bound men. You approached with a smile.
âHi. Zemo sent me.â
You didnât know who the fuck Zemo was.
You hoped they wouldnât ask, or notice how stilted and awkward youâd sounded just then. You swallowed a peach-sized lump in your throat and smiled again.
The one on the left grunted. The one on the right gave a nod. Without a word spoken between them, the former opened the door and made way for you to step over the threshold. You couldnât help but notice both with their eyes trained straight on your tits as you passed by.
There was no way that had just worked. No pat-downs or harrowing threats? Not a single, searing interrogation into your identity or what you might be there to do?
Men were dumb, you decided, far too easily deceived by a decent pair of titsâHYDRA security personnel or not.
But you already knew that. You stepped inside.
The fetid stench of half a dozen blazing cigars and booze spilled on every surface were the first to greet you. A wave of smoke, then a bone-jostling bum bum bum to the beat of what sounded like a Don Toliver song came next. You almost couldnât bear to make your feet move.
But then, shortly, you had to because a shrill, shimmer-doused beauty was waving you over toward the kitchen.
âBa-by!â she shrieked, gesture growing frantic, âBring it over!â
You walked with the tray out in front of you, careful with your steps across the sticky floor. When you made it over, where one other girl was stirring wildly at some concoction on the counter, you stopped, and had only to stand for a second longer, because the redhead that had beckoned you was taking the tray, setting it down, and grabbing something thin and pointy. Youâd barely even registered it as an ice pick until the thing was thrust in your face.
âCrush it up,â she ordered, one curt nod toward a block of ice nearby. Evidently not giving a shit who you were or where youâd come from either. You guessed Wanda had just gotten unlucky, or theyâd all stopped giving a fuck once SchrĂśderâs men had really started drinking.
And drinking they had been, as your eyes surveyed the scene. Half-naked women with fully-clothed men, dressed head to toe in the finest of suits that were probably soaked through to the bone with sweat and Stolichnaya. You almost shivered at the sight of all the masked, wildly gyrating pricks, fumbling desperately through one verse of âAfter Party.â You could vomit.
But where was your prick? That grimy little shit, Joey.
âBack of the room by the couch,â Bucky said, as if heâd read your mind.
Then a beat.
âWait. Shit. That isnât him. SchrĂśderâs over by the door.â
How many tall, lanky blonds could there be in this place? You cast a sweeping look across the room and received your answer in less than two shakes of a lambâs tailâthere were a shit ton of Joey lookalikes all around.
âCareful. Mr. SchrĂśderâs been on edge all night. Might bite your head off if you stare too long.â
The girl that was stirring had apparently caught you looking. She set the spoon aside and turned, but not before chancing a quick glance at the man Bucky had identified to you as your target. The man lifted his gaze.
You chipped away at the ice even faster.
Crush the shit, make a drink, pour the serum, and get it in him. Now. Donât draw his attention just yet, though.
Something in your head told you to steal another look. You knew it was a bad idea, but you went on and did it anywayâand fortunately, felt a wave of relief at seeing that heâd retreated somewhere back with his friends. The ice pick in your hands made it through the last block.
âIâll serve the shots, you bring the bottle to Mr. Pierce.â
Mr. Who?
âOne of SchrĂśderâs associates. Roll with it.â
It was Natashaâs voice now. Measured, but tense.
âHeâs the older gentlemen straight ahead. He probably ordered the champagne for him and the others.â
That was Sam. You could only imagine how all of them looked huddled around the surveillance panel with the transmitter to your earpiece being passed about from person to person. The grip Bucky mustâve had on his gun, or his switchblade, or whatever weapon he could seize to make himself feel a little less helpless. But he wasâas were you. And truthfully, there was nothing either one of you could do about that until SchrĂśder was in custody. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.
So you walked with the bottle, now bathed in a tub of ice. You tried to keep steady, but the staggering drunks all around were making that tough, to say the least.
When one man struck you straight in the chest, elbows jutting out as he danced, you stumbled back a step. Nearly lost the tray for half a second, then recovered.
Until the dipshit hit you again.
This time you truly almost sent the bottle sailing for the floor, grip slipping on the tray and knees buckling underneath you as the force of the blow set you back. You bit a quick, âFuck!â in the air, seized the platter twice as hard and braced your weight against something firm behind you. A shelf, a TV stand, or something. Maybe a half-wall if you were lucky enough not to have careened against some expensive piece of furniture. You sighed.
âEverything alright?â a voice rumbled behind you.
Or a person. Yeah, a person would be pretty fucking bad to bump into at a time like this. Your whole body froze.
You turned.
âYe-es sir. Yes, sir.â You quickly righted your tone the second you realized it was someone important.
Not SchrĂśder, but someone who seemed to be big-name enough; you just werenât sure who. The man smiled down at you from under his Venetian mask.
âIs this for me?â he nodded toward the tray, half-teasing.
You swallowed.
âAre you Mr. Pierce?â you asked.
The manâs grin stretched even wider.
âNope, Iâm Ward. but I can take you to Pierce.â
For the first time that night, your heart swelled with some promise. You thanked him quietly, gratefully, then made as if to follow him back through the crowd, when all of a sudden, you stopped. That heartfelt swelling in your chest halted right along with it. You almost dropped the tray.
âSchrĂśder!â Ward bellowed.
No, no, now you were actually going to lose your shit. There was no way in hell you were keeping a grip on this silver little plate any longer without crying or screaming or shitting your pretty, pink, sequin minidress right there. You almost shrieked when a hand reached for the tray.
âPierce got you doing all the heavy lifting, huh, honey? The bastard.â Even through his own ornate mask, you could tell Joey was grinningâglinting with conceit, as was his prerogative. He took the load off your hands.
âTake it easy now, heâs justââ
âStaring at your rack. Pull your top up, baby, please.â
The chatter in your ear had switched from Sam to Bucky at nearly lightning speed. You glanced down at your cleavage and tugged the fabric up quick, heart beating even faster underneath it.
In front of you, Joey SchrĂśder was all teeth. A gruesome spectacle in spite of its seemingly benevolent intentions, one smile could have turned your stomach sideways. And it didâyou wanted to throw up againâbut you knew you had bigger fish to fry, and evil mobsters to poison. You didnât flinch when SchrĂśder nudged you in the shoulder and made his way ahead, coaxing you to follow.
You didnât tense and didnât protest. Didnât blink when he led you straight through the party, around a few topless performers on poles, and into a backroom lounge.
In fact, your mind practically sang as he led you inside.
It was just every other nerve, muscle, and trembling tendon not under the immediate control of your brain that needed soothing. You couldâve sworn the men on the couches would see your legs shaking as soon as you trudged into the room and sniff you out on sight.
But if they had, they didnât show it.
No one moved when you entered, save for a few lopsided grins and tilts of happy, masked faces. Sizing you up. Drinking you in. Far too easily mistakable for a band of apex predators that had just caught wind of their next meal, and not a room full of sleazy Russian mobsters. You bit back your grating disgust with a smile.
âGot a present for ya, Pierce,â SchrĂśder announced.
A honey-blond head flecked with silver and white sat up from the sofa. Presumably the one whoâd ordered the champagne.
âOh yeah? Whatâd ya pay for her?â he returned, mouth curling up in a wicked smile.
Even above the booming music, you could make out peals of laughter as the men around you shared in some lewd, crude comments and several whispers exchanged between them. You wouldâve liked to grab your bottle by the neck and break it over the nearest patronâs head, but then you remembered yourself, and your mission. You stilled beside SchrĂśder and let them crack a few more tasteless jokes at your expense. SchrĂśder chuckled and set the tray down in front of a thoroughly amused Pierce.
Then he grabbed you by the waist.
âRight. I forgot to askâwhat is your price, sweetheart?â he said, swiftly pulling you up to his front.
Your hands flew to his chest reflexively. Your nose scrunched in a wince at the sound of an electric shout:
âGET HIM OFF OF HER!â
âBucky, hey, hey, we canât justââ
âNO! THATâS NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PLââ
The line went silent. You scratched at the space behind your ear, trying hard not to betray any pain on your face, or the fear for what might be going on downstairs.
Clearly, you failed on both fronts, because Joeyâs grip only tightened. He peered down at you, curious.
âYou deaf or somethinâ, sugar? Whatâs your price?â
You batted your eyes, momentarily struggling for words.
But then, somehow, you managed to choke out, stomach churning with bile:
âWhatever you want, sir.â
You felt your soul drain out through the soles of your shoes as youâd said it. Something fell from your faceâmost likely a light behind your eyes and any semblance of self-worth as you stood before the man who had tried to buy you, drug you, and kill half your family, and then pretend like you wanted to dance for him, or do more.
It wasnât real.
It wasnât right by any means, but it was all just roleplay.
Roleplay.
You had to keep telling yourself that as you let SchrĂśderâs hand glide up your spine and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head up to his. It was just like your husband and his cold-blooded Winter Soldier persona, you tried to convince the increasingly frightened voice in your mind. Just like him, just like your sweet and soft and sadisticâ
âBucky,â you whispered unconsciously.
You knew he couldnât hear you now. It was almost insane to think anyone could save you now but yourself.
âWhat?â Joey exhaled sharply.
You froze in fear.
âFive hundred bucks,â you corrected your error quickly.
You werenât sure SchrĂśder was convinced.
âFive hundred bucks for one lap dance and some fun?â he scoffed. Then he squeezed your neck a little tighter and drew your face within an inch of his own. You could feel the hot puffs of breath, smell the rancid liquor on his tongue, but you stayed where he held you in place and tried not to grimace when he said, âThatâs a damn steal.â
Your lips were shaking something awful under your mask. You couldnât even begin to imagine what kissing this vile, soulless bastard would taste like, but you feared it might come sooner than you knew, because Joey was drawing you even more rough and tight into his chest.
Just when your mouth was less than a hairâs breadth away from his, though, you heard a womanâs scream.
Then another. And another. And another.
Before long, almost half the suite had erupted in shrieks, it seemed, and the sounds of their horror were shortly supplanted by a series of explosions. And gunfire.
Johann SchrĂśder dropped your body like the worst habit known to man and went bounding away from the turmoil as fast as he could. This time, you did trip over your heels and took a nasty little nosedive to the ground. Fumbling, crawling, then sliding across the shag carpet on your belly with your eyes in wild search of somewhere to hide.
You spotted a coffee table and muscled your way over.
âSCHRĂDER!â a voice roared from somewhere behind.
Again, you knew better than to look, but the fear of not knowing who, or what, might be barreling your direction at any second outweighed more sensible considerations. You stole a look over your shoulder and nearly screamed.
A man with a pitch black balaclava stormed into the lounge and wasted no time setting sights on his intended targetâraising a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun to his face and firing the second the impulse struck.
You watched a once-handsome, lively, and drunk man turn to shredded, fleshy carnage in less than an instant and fall right beside your head with a thud. Your hand was your only defense to keep the shriek inside your chest, but even that blockade was crumbling fast as the blood-soaked assassin wrenched the body in the air.
The gunman tore the mask from his victimâs head and inspected the faceâor what was left of it. He cursed.
You could tell from your close proximity to the blues of his eyes, and that sigh, you wouldnât need to ask at all. You just sat there and stared, knees hugged to your chest as Bucky threw the body back down as hard as he could.
âFUCK!â he bellowed, voice flooded with rage.
Steve stumbled in with his gun at the ready. He eyed the man on the floor, then you, then a dozen other flailing, desperate partygoers trying to escape the suite all around you. You just drew in even tighter to the table.
âWhat happened?! Whereâd he go?â
Rogers, like you, seemed unable to look away from the carcass, but for entirely different reasons. He appeared to be studying it just as your husband had been.
âItâs not SchrĂśder!â Bucky yelled.
âWhere the fuckâs heâ shit.â
Suddenly, an unknown assailant opened fire on the two men from the opposite end of the room. Both dove for cover, but not before Bucky grabbed you and dragged you, full-force, behind the sofa. It didnât seem there was time for sweet words or consolations, his eyes wide and half-crazed as they bore into yours just in front of you.
âDonât move,â he barked, readjusting his grip on his gun in one hand and feeling around all over your sides with the other. On seeing and feeling no trauma, he nodded his head and moved his hand to your cheek, just briefly.
âHoney, I need you hereâright here for me, alright? Donât move a muscle,â he spoke low as Steve covered from above, rapid-fire shots ringing out on both sides.
Rushed and furious as he was, he couldnât help but linger on that face a half-second longer than he intended. You were shaking your head and hugging your knees, meeting his eyes with what seemed to be reproach.
âYou promised, Bucky,â you hissed through gritted teeth.
You were in shock, that was what it was, he kept telling himself. You didnât know what you were saying, and he needed to turn away to help Steve, but then you were eyeing that bodyâthat man he couldâve sworn was SchrĂśder when heâd pumped him full of bulletsâand you were turning back to him with unmistakable disgust.
He wouldâve fallen to his knees and begged his wife for forgiveness if there werenât more pressing matters at hand. Like your life and his, and Steveâsâand Samâs, now, bursting onto the scene with a semi-automatic rifle of his own as he helped his friend gun down the last of the stragglers. Bucky knew he had to help them, too.
So heâd stumbled back on his feet, less conscious than acting on pure impulse, and he joined in on the gunfire.
He reckoned he liked it. However long it lasted. He just rolled his shoulders once and sent the rounds flying; he ducked and he moved and he stood and he crouched and he fired every shot as if it were as easy to him as breathing. He didnât think. When the three of them had cleared the lounge, and Sam and Steve tore off toward the two or three remaining rooms at the rear of the suite, Bucky still wasnât fully present in his body. All he knew was that his clip was near-empty and his side was in painâand the room they had emptied was safe. For you.
For youâwhere the fuck had you gone?!
Bucky barreled past the spot behind the couch where you were supposed to have been, but werenât, and made a beeline for the closest room over. And nothing. More empty, threadbare, and bloody rooms filled with bodies that didnât belong to you, and shortly he was yelling for Sam or Steve or anyone in that massacred suite to help him find his wife. The breaths in his chest were heaving.
He turned once, twice, eyes roaming wildly and hand grabbing fast for more ammo. He couldnât find any more. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow, and just when he turned to call for backup once more, he paused.
In his periphery, he saw two forms.
He stopped fully and turned to the side.
If it was fear he had felt just then, he wasnât aware of it. Instead, it seemed a white-hot and blinding ire had taken over, and rather than grow timid, or afraid, he went cold.
âBuckyâŚdonât,â you managed in a strangled, hoarse tone, throat visibly contained by a blade being held to it.
Behind you, a man stood masked and unflinchingly calm.
Bucky knew that wouldnât doâno matter how hard or helplessly you pleaded with him then not to do it, please donât do it, Bucky, please. All he heard in his head was the throb of his pulse, and all he saw before him was red.
He fired without a second thought.
The round just grazed the edge of the manâs cheek.
Bucky swore. Tried to fire his gun again. It was empty.
Still not thinking, much less hearing his wifeâs desperate cries for him to spare the manâs life, he grabbed the smallest, sharpest object that was closest to him and charged your would-be attacker head on.
Both men fell to the floor, but only Bucky was mobile.
Only Bucky held the weapon now, as his opponentâs knife had been lost somewhere in the skirmish, and he was wielding it now faster than he ever had before, he thoughtâan ice pick, of all fucking thingsâdriving it into the manâs face and neck and chest without the slightest regard for anything else.
Somewhere far outside his mind, he heard you scream. Felt you claw at his arm, grip at his shirt, make some wild, shrill, and vehement pleas that he couldnât begin to understand in this state, and he continued. Hadnât even considered slowing down until the manâs carotid was shredded in two and spewing blood all over his front.
Bucky couldnât be sure how long it lasted like that; all he remembered was stumbling back, energy spent, fist still holding the pick and eyes duly glued to the body heâd just stabbed through and maimed until no life was left.
He saw you crawl over the body.
He wanted to warn you not to touch it. Lifted a hand and tried his best to form words, but nothing came out.
He watched you lift the mask.
From that point on, he was certain he had to have been seeing things that werenât really there. Trauma-induced psychosis, he tried to assuage himself silentlyâthat was the only explanation for the scene unfolding before him. Surely it couldnât be you cupping that face, pinching that skin, shaking that cold and lifeless, blood-drenched frame beneath you as a sob racked through your own.
That signet ring on a pinky couldnât have been real.
Bucky didnât want to believe that gruesome discovery made manifest before himâin many ways, he couldnâtâbut then it was painted clear as day as the cries endured, nothing changed, and a helpless, frantic wail rang out:
âDAD!â
â
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob bucky#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes
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When you need a good cry
THE MAJORâS WIFE
warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isnât in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice
summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again
word count: 9.7k
notes: iâm not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. thereâs really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.
Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.
Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husbandâs been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of Johnâs mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasnât explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.
Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - sheâs going to see her man.
Thereâd been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasnât the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good olâ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.
The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.
Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasnât who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.
When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.
Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was Johnâs preferred pen-pal.
âYou fix him right up,â Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, âyou give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?â
All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.
They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didnât want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.
But her two months as Mrs. Egan? Theyâd been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadnât hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.
In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.
He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.
It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. Sheâd always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.
âIf this is it, itâll be enough,â he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.
And for the first few times that had been it. She couldnât take all of him and his thrusts couldnât get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and heâd hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.
âDo other girls take all of it?â She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.
She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.
âYes.â Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldnât even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. âHey,â he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. âYouâre my wife. Thatâs what makes this feel better.â
And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didnât feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldnât stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.
So thatâs what she did.
He was always on top and she was always on her back. Thatâs the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.
âI prefer to be in charge,â her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. âNot like that -â she clarified, cheeks pink, âJust - if Iâm gonna take it, Iâd rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. Theyâll allow it.â
And knowing her husband wasnât just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.
Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.
It was more like they were wrestling.
Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.
She loved it.
Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.
He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.
âFuck, baby,â he grunted, âwhatâre you doing?â
âI want to try it like this,â she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. âI want it all.â Lila clarified.
And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.
Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and Iâm gonna fuck you forever.
He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.
She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.
Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.
âGood wives allow their husbands everything,â he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.
He was just too damn addicting. She couldnât stand to tell him no.
His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.
Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.
Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how heâd come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.
Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.
âMaâam,â he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. âBuckyâs gonna be happy as hell to see your face.â
The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?
Stop it. Maybe everyoneâs just aware Johnny misses you. Youâre his wife.
âNot as happy as me, I wager,â she returned with a smile. âIâm glad to see youâre doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.â
His shrug didnât soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.
âAll we boys can do is pray.â
She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. âYou boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.â
Jack simply nodded in response.
For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, sheâd be his surprise at the officerâs club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.
Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jackâs footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldnât have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.
Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.
âStick close by,â Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. âIt gets crowded but Iâll take ya to him.â
As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met Johnâs squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadnât made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.
Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.
Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. Thatâs how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Galeâs attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.
His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.
âLila,â he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, âdamn it all to hell. Youâre a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.â
Because he was close to John, he didnât hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldnât mind.
When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, âYou still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,â she laughed. âIâll let Marge know when I see her next.â
Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.
His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.
âColonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,â she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasnât close to her like he was with Marge and John.
Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.
âHeâs in need of you Lila,â Gale clarified and it wasnât lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.
âHoly shit! Itâs Mrs. Egan!â Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.
She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.
John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasnât a fucked up scenario in his head.
âGod, Lila,â she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. âItâs you, itâs you, itâs really you,â he was saying in between smooches, âI missed you. So fucking much, doll.â
Basking in his love she didnât feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.
She couldnât help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.
John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.
âNone of that,â she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, âweâre together. Thatâs all that matters.â She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.
None of it was enough.
The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldnât see them.
âWho? What - why? How?â He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.
She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.
âColonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldnât allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,â she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that werenât there before.
She wanted to kiss every single one of them.
He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.
She forgot how blue his eyes were.
He was whole. Complete. Hers.
âYouâre here for the entire weekend?â He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.
âI need you,â his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. âLetâs go.â He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.
âJohn, John - relax, my sweet man,â she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. âWe can stay for a while. We donât have to go yet.â
Itâs why she was at the officerâs club in the first place. She had arrived early.
John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. âIâve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?â His voice was tight. His face stern.
âYes - no, I -â she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didnât allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. âI just meant weâve got time, John.â
The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.
She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.
âTime? Time?â He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. âYou think Iâve got time? You have no idea what itâs like up there.â
She shook her head but didnât try to verbally explain herself. She wasnât sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.
âCome on, Bucky,â that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. âWhen have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how itâs properly done right?â
With Gale slapping a hand to Johnâs shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.
He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. âIâm sorry,â he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldnât pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasnât happy. âIâm so fucking sorry, baby. Itâs this place. Itâs fucking with my head.â
And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasnât his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.
Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.
Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.
âEveryone, this is my wife!â He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. âSheâs the most beautiful woman Iâve ever seen and -â he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, âand I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!â
So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?
And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then heâd place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.
She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.
Once she accepts Crosbyâs hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.
Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.
She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. Heâd always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.
Sheâs there but he doesnât really care because in his head heâs already thinking of when she leaves again.
She wasnât used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.
âHe keepinâ you busy?â
Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didnât even notice when it was put down.
âDizzy, more like,â she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how heâd been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didnât try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. Heâs always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasnât aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows itâs not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. âSo, does that happen often?â
She sees Galeâs expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.
âI think you should talk to John about it.â He decides on.
âIs it something that needs to be mentioned?â She doesnât like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.
She canât be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?
âAnother ginger ale, Marty,â Gale raises two fingers to grab the manâs attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. âHe still loves you, Lila. Itâs just - hard. Being out here.â
âYou seem to be coping fine.â
She feels bitter. Crazy. Thereâs a sob she has to choke back.
Lilaâs too embarrassed to meet Galeâs gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows whatâs been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.
âI think I was used to loneliness. He isnât.â
And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. Itâs just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.
Luckily they didnât stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasnât able to pull her back out for a dance - itâs my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.
Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didnât have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.
âTake care of yourself, Major,â she squeezes him, âI need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.â
âItâs a hard job but I try,â he replies, both of them ignoring Buckyâs protests.
Besides that, Buckyâs quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but heâs quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesnât disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.
And if sheâs honest sheâs scared of him snapping at her like the night before.
Instead she takes the time to take him in. Heâs handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.
Lila doesnât allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she canât help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.
Itâs crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now sheâs twenty-one. Sheâs loved him for more than sheâs been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and itâs frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.
Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerbyâs and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.
John doesnât deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.
âI love you,â she tells him, catching his eyes.
âI know.â
He doesnât return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesnât care.
So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. âWhatâre you gonna show me first in London, Major?â
âWell I really wanna show you our hotel room,â he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. âAnd I really want to show you -â he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, â- my cock, Mrs. Egan.â
She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. âJohn Clarence! If your mom were here -â and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.
âWanna grab some grub first?â He asks instead, knowing she hadnât eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. âI know a few places.â
Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.
âLet me feed you first, woman!â He groans, trying to be a gentleman. âWhenâs the last time you ate?â
She puckers her lips to think about it and thatâs the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.
When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boyâs hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.
Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didnât help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.
As long as he wasnât ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didnât really care. It wasnât much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.
The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasnât an option she figured this would have to do.
He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. Thereâs a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says heâs gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.
All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. Johnâs always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead arenât from smiling or laughing too much.
Lila knows theyâre from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she canât understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.
âIâm sorry,â she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and Johnâs reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. âI just missed you so much.â She presses a kiss to his knuckles. âI donât think I know how to not miss you.â
John doesnât say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once thatâs done, heâs taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.
âYou got enough food in you?â
All she can do is nod.
Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesnât do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.
Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? Sheâd be thrown into an asylum sheâs sure.
Beside her heâs quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think heâs as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.
Just - nothing.
Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?
âYouâre so fucking gorgeous,â he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.
âI love you,â she responds and once again he doesnât say it back. She figured he wouldnât but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.
She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.
Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.
Mine. Heâs mine.
âMake me your wife again,â sheâs not sure but it sounds like sheâs begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.
âGod,â he breathed, âfuck. Look at you.â
Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while heâd been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.
This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesnât allow her to pull away.
âDid anyone else do this?â
She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.
âDid you suck someone elseâs cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.â
He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.
His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and heâs not sure whether he should apologize before sheâs taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.
How dare he accuse her.
When she pulls off thereâs a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but heâs pulling her back by her hair.
âIâm so lucky to have a wife whoâs cock hungry,â he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each otherâs clothes off.
Lila didnât have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.
âThis is mine, Lila,â he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. âMine.â
All she could do was whimper and agree.
John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.
She wasnât sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didnât know. He was waiting for a reaction.
Lila wasnât sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldnât satisfy him?
She canât lose him.
âPlease,â she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, âdo it again.â
Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes itâs in pleasure.
Ten slaps. Thatâs how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didnât enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. Sheâs sopping wet, sheâs gonna have to throw out her underwear because theyâre destroyed.
âDid you enjoy that?â He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. âYou like being spanked, baby?â
âYes.â Itâs only half of a lie.
âNow - now, Iâm going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,â she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasnât her.
But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She canât say she doesnât want it. Him. This.
He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesnât push. He doesnât move.
She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.
Do it.
No, donât.
âOne day,â he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. âBut today, today I want this.â And without any prepping like sheâs used to, without any more warning, heâs sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.
She screams, canât help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.
It hurt but it felt so good.
Who was she?
âYou think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?â He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. Sheâs so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. âYou like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?â
âYes, yes,â she swears and this time she isnât lying. Itâs all she can manage; she thinks sheâs gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.
She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.
He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. Heâs tired of muffling her moans and words. Heâs tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.
Johnâs favorite face in the entire world.
âTurn around,â he commands.
Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.
âI fucking missed these.â He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.
Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then heâs taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lilaâs face when heâs fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks heâll ever get. Sheâs incoherent but sheâs begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.
He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.
When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.
John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.
âI love you,â he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John canât believe he forgot he had this; canât believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. Sheâs gorgeous (and not just externally) and heâs quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. âI love you,â he swears again.
This time sheâs the one who doesnât say it.
She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.
Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.
âFuck, fuck,â he roared, âso damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.â
For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of Johnâs breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.
Forty-seven thatâs how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.
Forty-eight thatâs when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didnât return.
Forty-nine thatâs when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.
Fifty. Thatâs the breath she used to say, âyou cheated on me,â looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.
She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didnât want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.
John watched her until he couldnât, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.
Iâm sorry, Iâm here, he kept saying.
I hate you, she thought but didnât say.
Until finally, âdonât touch me!â She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. âGet away from me, John. Stay away.â She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldnât find it in herself to do anything except cry.
She couldnât breathe. She couldnât open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldnât do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.
This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldnât be his wife anymore.
Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.
Why couldnât he hide his affairs better?
Why did she have to surprise him?
She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.
Lila isnât sure how long it���s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. Sheâs shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that Johnâs wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. Sheâs trying to tell him she canât breathe, sheâs suffocating, at the same time heâs blowing air in her face.
Sheâs fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.
âBaby, please, wake up,â heâs crying over her, his head on her chest, âwake up. Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry.â
Her chest aches. She coughs.
He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.
âLila,â he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isnât sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. âDonât leave me, you canât leave me. Please.â
She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesnât think she can talk.
John allows her the space but he doesnât remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but heâs trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.
She doesnât lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. Sheâs scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.
Lilaâs glad he made it hurt.
âYou need to go,â she finally manages to say, ignoring the way heâs already shaking his head in defiance. âLeave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.â Find another woman. âI leave in a day.â She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.
âLila itâs the war,â he starts, shaking in his own tears. âItâs all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You donât fucking know what itâs like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.â He promises.
She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?
âBut Gale didnât cheat,â it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows itâs the wrong thing to say entirely.
John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesnât stop him. She doesnât take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesnât have many stars. Is that why itâs so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.
She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. âMaybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.â And the door slams shut behind him.
She wonders if heâs angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and Londonâs already dark. She realizes she hasnât slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.
Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.
Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasnât moved. Sheâs in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.
She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isnât facing her, heâs watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. Heâs holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.
Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.
âI must have punched in my card a long time ago,â his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when heâs singing in the pub. âIt must be the reason for all of this. Karma.â He scoffs.
I deserve this, is what heâs trying to say.
Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and thereâs bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesnât have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.
She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled âMrs. Eganâ over her notebooks. Sheâd heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadnât hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.
âYouâre leaving me,â she had accused him. âYouâre gonna leave! Iâll never forgive you, John Egan.â
And in front of everyone heâd knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, âMarry me.â He didnât ask because they both knew it wasnât a question.
She was already his.
And he was hers.
Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.
She doesnât have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. âLay with me,â she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.
John shakes his head. âYou donât want me to.â
âLay with me,â she repeats, firm. âI just want to fall asleep with you.â
He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether sheâs simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, heâs scared sheâll lose her shit being near him again.
John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.
âTake off your uniform,â she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. âI want to feel you, thatâs all.â
John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before heâs naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesnât allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.
Lilaâs the one to wrap her arms around him.
Lilaâs the one to intertwine their legs.
John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he canât get up in the middle of the night.
âCan we fall asleep together?â She asks, but when she looks up Johnâs already there.
The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what sheâs gripping, remembering how she clung to Johnâs dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.
Heâs got the saddest eyes sheâs ever seen and she hates that sheâs partly why.
âWe should talk,â her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.
Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,
âIâm not the one you write the most letters too,â she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. âYou write the most to your mom. And Iâm not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,â sheâs so tired of crying, âthatâs Gale. âAnd I canât even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,â she chokes on a sob. âThatâs whoever else.â
I couldnât even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.
âWhatâs your point with all this, Lila?â
Lila lifts her head from his chest, âMy point is Iâm a horrible wife. I - I donât know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- â she canât get the rest of the words out.
âDonât say that,â John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. âDonât fucking tell me that, Lila.â
âI donât make you happy,â she shakes her head.
âYou do. Everything I do, everything Iâm doing - itâs for you Lila.â
âI donât want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But Iâm scared that I donât make you happy. You deserve better.â
âOh you dumbass,â John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. âYouâre my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You donât think you make me happy? Youâre the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.â
She pulls away to hold his face. âIf youâre gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I donât care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I donât care that you write to your mom more than me and I donât care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know Iâm making you happy.â
His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. âLila,â he presses a kiss to her lips, âRose,â another kiss, âEgan,â another. âAre my only reason for staying alive.â
#love me a good cry#cry out the stress of finals#mota fic#mota fanfic#john egan x oc#john egan x reader#bucky x oc#bucky egan x reader#bucky egan fanfiction#bucky egan fanfic#john egan fanfic#john egan fanfiction#Callum turner#callum turner fic#callum turner smut#masters of the air fan fiction#masters of the air fanfiction#masters of the air fanfic#masters of the air#Bucky Egan#John Egan
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Limerence
Limerence: a state of mind resulting from romantic attraction, characterized by feelings of euphoria, the desire to have one's feelings reciprocated.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 2.2K
Warnings: Angry/ hate sex, mention of an argument but nothing specific, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, anal play, double penetration, one spank, vaginal fingering, mention of oral, just a little mirror stuff
Summary: I learned a new word last week and I chose to ignore its negative connotations. It's more fun that way.
Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!
Minors, do not interact.
Life is cruel sometimes.
Heâs standing over there wearing a cream coloured Hawaiian shirt with a blue floral pattern and, in spite of yourself, you very much want to jump on him.
You canât look at him though.  Youâre convinced that if you look at him, everyone will know.  Theyâll know heâs kissed just about every inch of your body.  Theyâll know that you crave the way he touches you.  Theyâll know that bringing him to orgasm often feels more euphoric than your own climax.  And they absolutely canât know that.
His poker face is better than yours.  The wry smirk on his slim lips when his gaze flits over to you momentarily wonât give the two of you away and just seeing him look at you like that is enough to make you question whether you possess a single ounce of self control.  Heâs better at this than you are, no doubt about it.  Thereâs plenty you can learn from him.
'Are you still being a bitch?' The message flashes up on the watch on your wrist.  Holy fuck, this man is irritating.
You unlock your phone to respond to the message, your thumbs move quickly across the keyboard.  'That depends.  Are you going to admit you were wrong?'  You glance over at him and see that heâs ignoring those he had previously been engaged in conversation with, in favour of responding to you.  The conversation goes on without him and no one is any the wiser that itâs you heâs texting.
'I wasnât wrong.'
'Then yes, Iâm still a bitch.'
'I thought as much.  But so weâre clear; you made your point in that dress.  Even if you are painfully stubborn.'
'Iâd rather be stubborn than wrong.'
'Thatâs cute.'Â Â You watch him slip his phone back into the pocket of his shorts once he sends the message, re-engaging with the conversation that heâd been neglecting for the few short minutes in which heâd focused his attention on you.
Youâre certain he knows how frustrating he is. Surely he must know.
Youâve been at an impasse for over a week and in all honesty, neither of you can really remember how the argument started.  Did it even really matter anymore?  Itâs not even so much about the disagreement, now itâs about pride and whoâs willing to sacrifice theirs first.
Thatâs the problem with being equally stubborn - neither of you want to be the one to give in.  At this stage though, sex has been off the table much longer than you would have liked.  Nothing makes you desperate quite like a lack of orgasms and while you can do it yourself, youâd be the first to admit that itâs not even nearly the same.
The way you touch your own body is so different to how he does.  Your touch is borderline clinical sometimes.  Itâs methodical and calculated because really, youâre only working towards an end goal.  You focus on release more than pleasure and thatâs fine.  You achieve what you need to and thatâs enough but the way he touches you is so different. Â
When heâs taking you apart he takes his time, touching you because he simply needs to.  Itâs evident that he gets off on your pleasure just as much as you get off on his.  Thereâs never any rush, delivering sensations that you donât have the time or patience to administer when you do it yourself.  Pleasure with him feels luxurious.  Itâs hedonistic and intimate; a perfect blend of satisfying and tender.
Itâs hard not to miss that: sex so good that itâs both too much and not enough all at once.
'Do you think anyone would notice if I slipped my hand under your dress?'Â Â The next message flashing up on your watch feels like he must have read your mind.
Your eyes dart around the groups of people attending the small get-together, all engrossed in their conversations and sipping their drinks in various little huddles around the bar.
'I canât imagine they would.  You could probably bend me over this table and fuck me right in front of them and no one would be any the wiser.'
'Iâm sure theyâd notice but itâs a nice thought all the same.'  You can tell heâs imagining it and now so are you.  You can almost feel his two large hands, one either side of your waist, holding you tight as he plunges his length into you.  âShut up.â Heâd whisper, letting go of your waist with one hand to place the fingers in your mouth, silencing your little over-pleasured sobs.  âUnless you want all your friends to watch you cum for me.â
You shouldnât really want that, should you?  You shouldnât want an audience.  The truth is, you know people there want him.  They want to see him the way you get to see him and the possessive part of you that you didnât know you had until now wants to make sure no one else gets that privilege. Â
Arguing or not, his cock is yours.
'Iâm leaving in 10.  Youâre welcome to join me so long as you promise not to run your mouth again.  Youâll like my hotel room.'  Itâs nice to see his resolve weakening first because you certainly werenât up for accepting defeat.
'You should know me better by now.  Running my mouth is what Iâm good at.  Send me the address.'  You shoot the text back and realise heâs wearing that same wry smirk as before.  The very same one thatâs tugging at the corner of your own lips.
'Give yourself some credit.  Iâve found your mouth has some other great uses.'  He seems proud of himself, following up with the hotelâs address before starting to make his goodbyes to the group.
You take separate taxis and heâs waiting for you in the lobby.  Youâre far enough away from the prying eyes that at least you can be seen speaking to each other now.
Neither of you say a whole lot in the short walk up to his room, letting the door click closed behind you before you start to speak.
But right as you set your bag down his lips are on yours, hot and insistent, his body pressing you flush against the door.
âYouâre so fucking annoying.â  He groans, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth.  He cups your throat with one hand, holding you in place to begin sucking on the exposed side of your neck.
His mouth begins to trail lower but not before you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back.
âYouâre so much worse.â  You use as much of your strength as you can muster to push him back, leading him over to the bed, pressing him down onto it before straddling his lap.
Now itâs your turn, biting at his exposed throat, feeling his needy groans vibrate through his skin.  Undoing the first couple of buttons allows you enough space to nip and suck his collarbones, revelling in the way he melts into this.
He only gives in for a couple of minutes before he needs to feel like heâs back in control, holding your hips and flipping you both over so heâs got you pinned under him.
His hand trails up your thigh, pulling your dress up before two thick fingers sweep across your clothed sex. âYouâre wet already.â  He muses, teasing you ever so gently.
âIncredible attention to detail, well done.â  You know you shouldnât bite the hand and all but heâs a whole lot more fun when heâs angry.
âThat mouth is going to get you in trouble some day.â  Heâs smug as he withdraws his hand, delivering a gentle slap to your cunt.
It hurts in the most electric way, nerve endings lighting up at the painful stimulus and, in spite of yourself, you want him to do it again.
âFuck, I didnât think youâd like that.â  He sounds thrilled, delighted by a moan that you hadnât even realised had escaped.  âGetting off on the way I slap your wet little cunt.  Do you know how fucked up that is?â  He shifts the thin cotton underwear out of the way, trailing his fingertip from your clit to your fluttering hole before pressing inside to the second knuckle.
âYou take me like such a good girl.â  He muses, adding a second finger before pressing as deep as he can.  âItâs a shame you donât act like one.â
âMaybe if you fucked me right, Iâd act like one.â  Youâre as quick to bruise his ego as he is to bruise yours.
âOuch.â  He teases, curling his fingers inside you in the way he knows makes you see stars.  He fucks you perfectly and he knows it.  You act like a good girl when you want to.  Youâre even.
âAre you even planning to fuck me?  Or maybe you just want to sit around and enjoy the sound of your own voice.â  It shouldnât be so much fun to watch his face reflect his discontent but it really is.
âYou.â  He begins before pulling your panties off, pushing your skirt up and arranging you on your hands and knees on the bed.  âMight be the most frustrating person Iâve ever met.â
You hear him undo his belt and zipper and a short while later, you feel the blunt head of his erection teasing your slit.
Now you understand why he thought youâd like this room.  The mirror strategically positioned right at the end of the bed lets you see his face, even in this position.
âI fucking better be.â  You tease, pressing your ass backwards, forcing his cock to slide into your eager cunt.  He meets you half way, thrusting the rest of the way into you with a force you only couldâve dreamed of.
âYou are. So.  Damn.  Arrogant.â  He punctuates his sentence with equally powerful thrusts, his hand on the small of your back to hold you in place.
âAnd yet youâre still here, balls deep inside me.  Guess you donât hate me that much.â  Your pride is short lived, establishing your own rhythm of thrusts that he eagerly meets.  Your fingers cling to the bedsheets, each rut into your body almost knocks the thoughts from your head.
He loses himself just as fast as you do.  Youâre both far too pent up for this to last much longer.  Frustration bubbled over into lust and now itâs hit boiling point.
His body is yours to use just as much as yours is his. Â
âYou take me so well.â  You hear him groan and in the mirror you see him slip his thumb into his mouth before it disappears out of your view, pressing against the tight ring of muscle only he can see from this angle.
Oh.  You donât often go there.
Your hesitation is short lived, the tip of his thumb presses inside you, slowly stretching out your tightest hole.
It feels amazing.  Itâs a different type of fullness and when the initial discomfort subsides, youâre able to let yourself enjoy the sensation.
âI can feel myself inside you.â  He sounds almost broken and itâs delightful.  âFilling up both your pretty little holes.  I canât last much longer.  Fuck, Iâm so close.â
The stretch of his thumb in your ass is the only constant youâve got with his cock slipping in and out of you.
Your own hand reaches down between your legs, rubbing your clit frantically, desperate to cum in time with him.
âDonât you dare.â  You groan, watching him in the mirror.  âDonât cum yet.â
He whines, his face screwed up in pleasure, doing his very best not to spill inside you just yet. At least this is one thing you can agree on.
âF-fuck, hurry up. Iâm so close.â  Heâs trying to maintain the same pace while holding himself back and you know it canât be easy.
Your fingers graze your clit just right and before you know it, your moans are getting higher pitched, your holes fluttering around his cock and his thumb, squeezing both involuntarily as your orgasm takes over. Â
Itâs beyond intense.  Thereâs so much happening at once and within a few moments of your own climax, you feel your partner achieving his.  Heâs pressed as deep inside you as possible, flooding your body with his release, groaning your name loud enough for his neighbours to hear.
---
The following morning with the argument forgotten, everything feels right again.  The Hawaiian shirt heâd worn yesterday evening is draped over your shoulders, unbuttoned, giving him access to worship your breasts.  His cock slips in and out of you beautifully, soft gasps from both of you filling the crisp early morning air.  Your hands are planted on his broad chest and your fingers tease the soft curls of hair on his chest.  Itâs hard not to feel like heâs engulfing you, rather than the other way around.  Heâs beneath you, heâs inside you and with his shirt draped over you, all you can smell is him.
Itâs incredible, as close to perfect as youâre willing to believe exists.  Thereâs no rush.  Thereâs nowhere either of you need to be.  One orgasm can bleed into another and you can spend as long as you like enjoying each otherâs bodies. Â
#Bucky Barnes x reader smut#Bucky Barnes smut#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes x you#bucky barnes#Bucky Barnes imagine#Bucky Barnes fanfic#bucky barnes series#marvel smut#marvel imagine#bucky barnes x y/n#becca writes spice#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes headcanon#james bucky barnes#bucky#I'm back to screaming about my house search đ#The estate agent has asked for final offers on the house that I'm currently bidding on by tomorrow noon#and I'm STRESSED#I love that one#it's weird to think that by this time tomorrow I'll either know I've got it or not#Or I have a second house I like if this one doesn't work out#I didn't expect house hunting to be as stressful as it has been tbh#I thought I'd be more chill about it than I have been#There's not a single chill bone in my body so idk why I thought that#I'm the most highly strung person you'll ever meet#I do love the thought of wearing someone's shirt while I'm on them though#would like to try that
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Desperate | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hello hello hello! Iâve got some good, old-fashioned angst here for ya.
Word Count: 8.4k
Warnings: hella angst. Touch starved Bucky and reader. Some slight NSFW vibes, but nothing graphic.
Bucky didnât seem to notice when you told him you had to step away for a moment. He remained focused on his clean up duties in the kitchen; he didnât raise his head or look your way. In fact, he didnât seem to be noticing you much at all, lately. But as you eyed your ensemble in the full-length mirror in your bedroom, you knew youâd win back his attention.
This was his absolute favorite lingerie of yours. The set that made him so feral, drove him so insane with lust, that heâd broken the headboard last time you wore it. After that, the two of you agreed youâd save it for special occasions only; otherwise, the apartment you shared would need to be entirely refurnished. And though tonight was just a normal, run of the mill Friday night, you needed to pull out the big guns. Â
The black leather bustier- the one that made Bucky destroy furniture- hugged your figure perfectly. Itâs plunging V-neck ended just above your navel. And the lacy details perfectly mirrored the cheeky black underwear Bucky gifted you last Valentineâs Day. A matching garter belt was the piece de resistance, and it held in place the thigh high stockings that drove Bucky wild.Â
You gave yourself one final look before slipping on a pair of black stilettos and stalking out of the room. This was it- the perfect formula for recapturing Buckyâs gaze.Â
Heâd been distant lately. Almost cold. He hadnât touched you- in even the most innocent sense- in nineteen days. It had been even longer since you were last able to steal a kiss. And the two of you hadnât had sex in three weeks, which was unheard of.
Usually, Bucky gave his physical affections freely. He loved touching you, kissing you, holding you. He wanted to play with your hair, hold your hand, kiss your forehead- anything- as long as it meant he got to touch you. To feel you. When he had a rough day, your arms provided him with safety and comfort. And when a mission stole you from his side, your lips welcomed him home. He poured his love for you into every touch, leaving his fingerprints all over your soul.
To him, any moment spent without your skin pressed against his was a moment wasted.Â
And your sex life was mind-blowing, to say the least. Buckyâs stamina and eagerness to please you left you breathless and seeing stars almost every night of the week. After a few rounds with him, you found yourself unable to speak, unable to think. The only thing that had the power to permeate your hazy, lust-filled mind was him. Your hunger, your need for him could never be sated, and fucking him only made you want him more. But he was more than happy to give himself over to you. He could pull two or seven orgasms from you before you even knew what hit you. And that was just his warmup.Â
But the last three weeks had been completely void of any debauchery. Bucky didnât slip into your shower or slide his hand up your skirt. He didnât even grab your ass when you walked by wearing leggings. It was a startling difference that filled the apartment with a biting, bitter cold, chilling you to the bone. But Bucky said- he swore- he was fine. That he was just tired. Or stressed. Or busy with work. And while you knew his work-life was intense, it never before stopped him from jumping at the chance to make you scream.Â
And it wasnât just the lack of erotic touches that gnawed at you. It was the loss of all physical affections. He didnât reach for your hand in the store. Didnât pull you into his chest at night. Didnât kiss you goodbye in the morning. It left you agonized. Miserable. Empty.Â
Every day, you wondered what couldâve possibly caused Bucky to pull away. What could make him withdraw from you so suddenly. Worry ate away at you, slowly devouring you whole. He seemed to work late almost every night these past few weeks. And when he was home, your attempts to talk to him about the issue went nowhere.Â
You thought heâd gotten past his urge to hide his troubles from you. It took time, but he learned to be honest. To communicate. And when you were finally confident that heâd stopped hiding his struggles, you learned to stop reading into his every mannerism. His every muscle twitch. His every vocal change. If he said he was okay, he was okay. And after working together- he trusted you to listen, and you trusted him to tell you the truth.
And over the last few weeks, he did, indeed, say that he was okay. That there was nothing lurking beneath his surface. And so, you did as he asked, and you believed him.
But after three weeks of nothing- no roaming hands, no bite marks, no early morning quickies- you were hungry for him. Aching for him. You feared that your bottled-up lust would actually drive you crazy. And so, you decided reach for your secret weapon.Â
You found Bucky right where youâd left him: leaning over the kitchen sink, taking care of the dishes from dinner.Â
You kept your tone light, innocent, casual. âHey, Buck.â
âHey, baby.â He didnât look up.Â
âUm, do you think you could help me with something real quick, Sergeant?â Sergeant. It was devious. Wicked, really. The sound of his title coming out of your mouth always got his heart racing, always made the blood drain from his brain and travel elsewhere.
But he didnât fall for it.
âYeah, sweetheart. Just give me one second, Iâm-â Finally, he looked up.
His words died in throat, his mind went blank. The pan heâd been scrubbing fell into the sink with a loud crash. Want filled his eyes. He couldâve sworn his mouth started watering.Â
âWhat do you think, Sarge? You wanna come over here and,â you ran a few fingers up your thigh, âhelp me out?âÂ
You braced yourself, knowing Bucky was about to pounce. You figured you had less than five seconds before he swept you off your feet and hoisted up over his shoulder. Heâd fireman-carried you to bed that way more times than you could count, and you knew this would be one of those nights.Â
But five seconds became ten. And then fifteen. And then twenty. And all heâd done was stare at you.Â
âBuck?â you took a few steps in his direction. âI thought we could have some dessert.â
He struggled to form coherent thoughts or piece sentences together. âUm, well, I was-â he gestured to the mess in the sink, âI was gonna do the dishes.â
âI know, baby,â you placed a light hand on his shoulder. âBut I think you can finish them after- I mean, later.â
Bucky shouldâve jumped at the opportunity. He shouldâve taken you apart right there on the kitchen counter. But he didnât. He didnât even touch you.Â
He cleared his throat, âIâm- Iâm just gonna do âem now.â
Without a word, you turned on your stiletto and retreated to the bedroom.Â
Humiliation flared in your chest. Tears gathered in your eyes. And your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly, you felt stupid. Foolish. Part of you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment.Â
Bucky had every right to refuse your advances- that wasnât the issue. It was his complete and utter lack of affection for you. If he didnât want to have sex with you ever again, youâd (probably) survive. But the harsh and sudden halt of any and all physical affection was eating you alive.
You kicked off your heels the moment you entered the bedroom and found yourself stomping toward the bathroom. You needed to get away. To hide. To protect yourself from any further mortification. The bathroom door slammed shut behind you, and you leaned against the cool wood, hoping to find some peace. But the bathroom mirror only doubled your shame. And as you stared at yourself, clad in what you thought to be Buckyâs favorite lingerie, your breathing hitched in your chest.Â
This whole venture was so idiotic. So thoroughly and excruciatingly mortifying. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. If Bucky didnât want you in your best lingerie, he must not want you at all.
The hoodie youâd slipped out of only minutes ago sat crumpled in a pile on the counter, and eagerly you shimmied into it. Anything to cover up your failed attempt at seduction.Â
What was wrong with Bucky? Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he find you unattractive? If he wasnât seeking sex with you, he had to be getting it from someone else, didnât he? Who was it? Who-
A gentle knock yanked you out of your spiral.
âSweetheartâŚâ Bucky called through the door. He tried the handle and found it locked. âCan you come out, baby? Please?â
No part of you wanted to leave the safety of the bathroom. Something deep within you feared that this would be it- the tipping point, the moment of truth. If you did as Bucky asked and ventured out of the bathroom, there was a chance that Bucky would drop some major, soul-crushing truth on you.Â
Maybe heâd spent the last three weeks trying to figure out how to break up with you, and this was his perfect opportunity. Maybe heâd break your heart and ruin your life the second you opened the bathroom door. If you could just stay in here- forever- maybe he wouldnât dump you. Maybe you could delay your heartbreak and extend whatever feelings he once had for you, just for a little while.
But if he didnât want you anymore, what was the point of prolonging the inevitable?Â
With a huff, you dabbed at your eyes with your sleeve and opened the door.
There stood Bucky, looking hopeless. Lost. Miserable. He was propped against the door frame with slumped shoulders and a downtrodden expression- but perked up a bit when you opened the door. A sad smile stretched across his face, and he stood up straight, but his frown returned as you brushed right past him.Â
âBaby, can we please talk about this?â He almost begged.Â
There was a heavy desperation in his voice. Panic blazed through his chest. Something told him he might be losing you.
âIâve been trying to talk to you!â You removed your garter belt and slipped off one of your stockings. âIâve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks! And you just keep saying youâre 'fine'. Or that youâre tired. Or that thereâs 'nothing to talk about'- when there clearly is!â
Normally, Bucky could always make you feel better with a hug. Anytime the two of you got into a fight, a long, warm embrace helped ease both of you into open, honest communication. But Bucky didn't reach for you. He opted to keep his distance. To allow you some space.
But space was the last thing you wanted.Â
âLook, if thereâs something going on and youâre not interested in having sex, thatâs fine,â you told him. âI get it. It happens sometimes. But the-â you yanked your other thigh high off and tossed it to the side. âThe total embargo on physical touch is really fucking with my head.â
Your pulse pounded in your ears, your hands shook with wrath. âBuck, youâre never home anymore- youâre always âworking lateâ.â You let out a sharp exhale, âand when you are home, itâs like youâre on another planet. You keep your distance from me- you wonât even sit next to me on the couch.â
All Bucky could do was nod. Everything you said was true; there wasnât a point in arguing.
And as the weight of Buckyâs sudden frigidity finally hit you, your fury was snuffed out. Rage no longer pulsed through your veins with each beat of your heart. Grief took its place. It forced its way into your heart, into your bones. You couldâve sworn you felt fractures spider-webbing their way through your ribs.Â
Tears trickled slowly down your cheeks at first, but a downpour followed soon after. âAre you- are you not attracted to me anymore?â You asked between heaving sobs. âDo you not want me? Did I do something?â
âSweetheart, I-â
âIs thereâŚâ your voice cracked. Saying it was too much; part of you feared that vocalizing your fear would make it come true. As though another woman would materialize simply because you asked whether she existed. âIs there someone else?â
The question sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. Bucky stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. You did your best to get a handle on your shaky breaths and pained wails; if Bucky was about to reveal an affair, you didnât want to seem so broken. So hopeless. So pathetic. You didnât want to give him any ammo to take back to his side piece. Any dramatic tales that would make her howl with laughter.
But he didnât admit to having a mistress. He, instead, let loose a few tears himself. Knowing that heâd made you question his loyalties, that youâd actually feared heâd been unfaithful, made him want to die. Â
âOh my god,â His voice wavered under the hefty weight of his pain,âBaby-âÂ
âIs there someone better?â
âNo.â He couldnât fathom the suggestion that there was someone- anyone- out there better than you. âThere is no one better.â
He couldnât take it anymore, he had to be near you. In three quick strides, he arrived in your vicinity. But he remained just out of your reach. Everything in him begged - screamed- to hold you close. To kiss you. To take your hand, at the very least. His fingers twitched with the need to touch you. But he refrained.Â
 âThereâs no one else- of course, thereâs not. There will never be anyone else. I still want you, I will always want you. I love you.âÂ
The overwhelming urge to remove himself from your space barked at him. It screamed and hollered from the deep recesses of his mind. And he knew he should listen. But he couldnât- not when you were falling apart in front of him. Not when heâd made you feel unwanted, unattractive, and unloved.
âYou didnât do anything, doll,â he hated himself for doing this to you. For making you doubt his love. For reducing you to a sobbing, heaving shell of yourself. âIâm still attracted to you- Iâm so attracted to you. Youâre the most gorgeous woman Iâve ever seen.â
His reassurances helped assuage some of the fear, some of the worry. But only a small portion. Because even though heâd refuted all of your hypotheses and accusations, he still hadnât given you a reason. And he still hadnât touched you.Â
âThen whatâs-â you forced yourself to take a moment to think. To breathe. To get your head on straight. âWhatâs the problem? Whatâs going on with you?â
Bucky didnât answer. He didnât make eye contact. He simply stared at the area rug, tracing its border with his eyes. And though he knew you needed his touch, needed his affection, he couldnât bring himself to do it. Couldnât bring himself to slip his hand into yours or cradle your face in his hands.Â
His silence sliced through you and tore you open. You couldâve sworn you were bleeding out.Â
âBuck, I miss you-â It was needy. Ugly. But you didnât care. âPlease, just be honest with me. Iâm worried about you. And this isnât normal for us, so-â
His words came out so low, so hushed, that you struggled to hear him. âI just havenât been able to shake what happened last time.â
He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He gave a small shake of his head. His hands balled into tight fists. Heâd thought about what happened over and over and over again. He thought about it every day for the last three weeks. Relived the panic, the fear. And every night when he tried to fall asleep, the scene played out on an endless loop inside his mind. Horrifying nightmares plagued him each time he closed his eyes. He woke up shaking, covered in a cold sweat. There was no escaping it.
---Three weeks ago---
Things started around 8pm. It was all innocent enough, with Bucky spooning you as the two of you rewatched New Girl. But Bucky let his hands roam, as he so often did. And after only one episode, his hand had snaked up your shirt. His warm palm rested against your breast as his fingers swept over your skin. He teased your nipple once, twice. It was all the motivation you needed.
At his prompting, you pushed your body back against his, allowing your ass to grind against him. A low, animalistic moan vibrated deep within his chest. All bets were off after that.Â
Before you could even blink, Bucky had you in his arms. He palmed your ass and positioned your legs around his waist as he set off down the hall toward the bedroom. His lips hungrily devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands every now and again. He let more depraved sounds loose and you happily swallowed them all.Â
Time lost all meaning after Bucky laid you out on the bed. The world outside of your bedroom ceased to exist- only Bucky remained. The two of you were a frantic, needy tangle of pounding hearts and sweat-slick skin. Teeth marks adorned his chest. Scratches adorned his back and shoulders. And Bucky devoted all of his time, all of his energy, all of him to pleasing you.
He took his time, slowly working you over as though it were his job. He loved teasing you, love watching you squirm. And when he had you absolutely begging, he gave you exactly what you wanted. In fact, he kept giving it to you- and had no intention to stop.Â
Heâd lost track of time. Lost count of how many times he made you come. All he knew was that double digits had been reached- and that was a long time ago. Was it an hour ago? Or three? He wasnât sure. All he knew was that he had his best girl falling apart at the seams. Over and over and over again.Â
He made sure to check in with you after every bout of world-shattering ecstasy, and you always gave him the green light. As time passed, your sentences turned into solitary words, which devolved into incoherent, needy sounds. But you always gave him a fervent nod, ensuring that you absolutely wanted- needed- him to continue.Â
Even as sweat dampened the hair around your face, even as your lips grew swollen- you wanted more. More Bucky- there was never enough of him. It didnât matter that heâd carried you to bed hours ago, you were insatiable. If he fucked you for a full twenty-four hours, it still wouldnât have been enough.
At one point, you ended up in his lap, riding him like your life depended on it. He was seated upright on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed to yours. And by the depraved sounds and shaky breaths that fell from your lips, he knew you were close to yet another heart-stopping moment of bliss. His right arm snaked around your back, holding you firmly in place. He forced his vibranium fist down into the mattress; it gave him the extra leverage he needed to fuck into you even deeper. To push you over the edge.Â
With a strangled scream, your orgasm crested over you. Your eyes squeezed shut. Sharp inhales filled your chest. Your mouth hung open. Every muscle in your body went rigid. Tense. Slight tremors rocked you every few moments- it was exactly what Bucky wanted.Â
âOh, thatâs my girl,â praises dripped from his lips like honey.  A debauched moan vibrated out of his chest. âSo good for me, always so good for me, baby.â
He watched as your eyes rolled back in your head. And with a final exhale, your limp body slumped forward, your face landing against Buckyâs chest. He put his movements on pause and allowed you to recover. To catch your breath. To rest.
He smoothed his cold, metallic hand up and down your spine. âYou doing okay, sweetheart? You tired?â He dotted a kiss to your hair, âWe can call it a night.â
You didnât say a word.
âBaby,â he scratched gently at your shoulder blade. âCan you answer me?âÂ
But you remained silent.
Concern coursed through his veins. He feared heâd gone too far. That heâd pushed you past your limits. And if you were upset, he needed to do whatever he could to help you through. As gently as he could, he used both of his hands to lift your head from his chest.Â
What he found sent a wave of chills rushing over his skin.Â
You were out cold. Completely unconscious.Â
Bucky found himself operating on autopilot. He removed you from his lap and laid you flat on the bed. His fingers searched your neck for a pulse. Your name fell from his lips in a horrified, desperate prayer.Â
A breakdown loomed on the horizon, darkening everything around him. His hands shook, his chest tightened. The copper-penny taste of blood exploded across his tongue as he sunk his teeth into his cheek. But he couldnât fall apart- not when your life depended on it.Â
And massive sigh of relief left his chest when he felt your strong, steady pulse beating beneath his fingertips.Â
And once he knew that you were, indeed, alive, he allowed himself to fall apart- but only for a moment. Tears dripped down his face and splashed against your chest as he loomed over you. He breathlessly told you he was sorry. That he loved you. That he didnât mean to hurt you.Â
But that was all he permitted. You still needed him, even if you werenât in dire straits. And so, he forced his emotion behind a wall and pressed on.Â
No part of him wanted to leave your side, but it was a necessary evil. He sped through the apartment and into the kitchen, digging in the freezer for ice packs. And when he found the two you required, he snagged a couple dish towels from the drawer by the sink and raced back to the bedroom.Â
âHey, Iâm- Iâm back, baby,â he said to your unconscious body. âIâm so sorry, sweetheart. I just had to get-â he held up the icepacks. Even if you couldnât hear him, he wanted you to know that heâd never- under any circumstances- abandon you when you needed him.Â
He wrapped each ice pack in a towel and tucked one behind your neck while the other rested on your chest. And then, all he could do was wait.Â
He hovered over you, watching for any signs of waking, any signs of distress. His hands smoothed over your hair and drifted across your cheek. His fingers monitored your pulse every few seconds. His lips left kisses against your forehead. And though he knew that your life wasnât in danger, it didnât quell the shaking in his hands. Didnât stop the waves of nausea cresting over him.Â
And he didnât take a full inhale until your eyelids finally began to flutter open.Â
He watched closely as you finally blinked your way back into consciousness. Everything was kind of fuzzy, a bit hazy around the edges. A quiet ringing filled your ears. A slight tremor rendered your hands unsteady. And the world around you seemed to tilt and twist without warning.
But Bucky was right there, anchoring you to the earth. He let a gentle hand rest against your cheek.Â
âHi, baby,â his voice was soft, sweet, comforting.
But you couldnât respond even if you wanted to, as your synapses refused to get their shit together. Words collided and melted together, dripping into amorphous puddles inside your mind. You swore someone had stuffed your head full of cotton. Everything felt far away; the entire world was muffled somehow, as though you were trapped behind fifty feet of glass.
Concern bled into Buckyâs words, âSweetheart, are you alright?âÂ
And it wasnât easy, but you finally remembered how to think. How to speak. You chipped away at the thick pane of glass separating you from Bucky, and finally answered.Â
ââm okayâŚâ You reached for Buckyâs face and allowed your fingers to gently trace down his jawline. His stubble pricked at your skin. His warm breath fanned your face.Â
And without warning, tears slipped from your eyes. Rivulets coursed down the sides of your face and dripped into your hair. It was a sudden, jarring shift that sent Buckyâs heart leaping into his throat.Â
âOh, no- oh, sweetheart,â he gently cradled your face in his hands. âBaby, youâre okay- everythingâs okay. Youâre fine. Youâre safe.âÂ
He did everything in his power to bring you some sense of peace, but the tears refused to stop. And he found himself desperately, hopelessly, trying to comfort you. He tripped over himself again and again, apologizing endlessly. And when that didnât work, he changed tactics. He spelled out what happened for you in clear, easy to understand terms, ridding you of the dreaded unknown. He promised that you were only out for a minute or two. That you were perfectly safe. Â
He left gentle touches against your skin and dotted kisses to your cheeks and hairline- just like you always did for him when he fell to pieces. And if it worked for him, he hoped it might work for you.
He wasnât sure what brought an end to your waterworks- his reassurances or his touch- but he didnât care. All that mattered was that youâd finally stopped crying. That your breathing was returning to normal. The sharp pain radiating through his chest dulled a little bit as he dried your last few tears. Finally, your hands stopped trembling. And your heartrate slowly regressed to its mean. He thanked a startling number of deities that you were alive and seemed to be improving.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, âHow do you feel, baby? Is there anything I can do for you?â
âUmâŚâ you dried your damp lashes on the backs of your hands. âIâm cold.â
âShit- sorry,â Bucky snatched your icepacks from their respective positions and threw them to the floor.Â
Guilt bloomed in his chest; he shouldâve removed the ice the second you woke up. Shouldâve covered you with a blanket. Shouldâve used his body to keep yours warm. Shouldâve-Â
He didnât have time to spiral into guilt and shame and âshould havesâ.Â
He leaned over the side of the bed and located his discarded hoodie, the one youâd yanked over his head only a few hours ago in your insatiable pursuit of his body.
âHey, here you go, doll,â he gently helped you wriggle into the soft fabric and covered you with the bedspread. And once he was confident that you were comfortable, he slid under the blanket with you and vowed to give you all of his body heat.Â
The second he laid down next to you, you rolled onto your side and buried your face in his chest. He curled his body protectively around yours; he wasnât going to let anything else happen to you tonight. Or ever. His hand swept up and down the length of your spine on a seemingly endless loop. He whispered âI love yousâ and âIâm sorrysâ until he thought he might go hoarse.
And when your world fell properly into place and you finally felt like yourself again, you plucked your head from his chest.
âHi,â you reached upward and let your fingers slowly drift across his cheek bones. The slope of his nose. His lips.
âHi, baby.â He couldnât fight the smile that pulled at his features. This was the version of you he knew. The version that, only a few minutes ago, hungrily egged him on in his pursuit of your pleasure. âYou doing okay?â
You gave him a confident nod, âYeah, Iâm okay now.â Your lips drifted across his, âSorry, it kinda took me a minute to come back to myself, you know?â
âThatâs okay, doll,â he let he tips of his fingers ghost over your spine. âDonât apologize.â
âAnd I really didnât mean for there to be any,â you gave Bucky some unenthusiastic jazz hands, âany theatrics tonight. Sorry about the drama.â
Bucky gave a shake of his head, âNo, baby, itâs okay. IâmâŚâ he traced your features with his cold, gentle fingers. âIâm glad youâre alright.â
âYeah, Iâm totally fine,â you shrugged. âIt was weird though, right? This has never happened to me before- Iâve never passed out during sex.â You gazed at him with a spark of lust in your eyes, âYou know, Iâm actually impressed. You made me come so many times that I actually blacked out. None of my ex-boyfriends can say that.â
You let out a quiet laugh that Bucky didnât return. He didnât find it funny- he didnât find any of this funny. But he put on a smile for your benefit.
âOh, and sorry about all the crying,â you sighed. âI donât know what that was about.â
âThatâs alright- it happens,â he shrugged. âYou went from really high highs and then fell to some pretty low lows. Itâs just got to do with the chemicals in your brain, nothing to apologize for.â He trailed kisses across your forehead and down your nose, âPlus, you were probably scared. Or freaked out, at least.â
The guilt sunk its teeth into every fiber of Buckyâs being. And as you nestled closer to him, a tidal wave of revulsion nearly dragged him from the bed. He shouldâve known better. Shouldâve exercised better judgment. You werenât like him; you didnât have the enhanced energy and stamina to match his. He shouldnât have pushed you to the edge like that. Shouldnât have carried you past your limits.Â
Normally, heâd do anything to be near you. He wanted-Â needed- to touch you as much as possible. And if he couldnât touch you, he at least had to be close to you. But the voice in his head screamed at him, telling him to vacate your vicinity. And the overwhelming, urgent need to put some space between his body and yours yanked him out of bed.Â
âBaby, Iâm gonna go get you some water, okay? And a snack,â he headed for the door, âyou stay there, Iâll be right back.â
It was the perfect excuse. He really did need to provide you with sustenance and hydration after your black out- but a trip to the kitchen also provided him with a reason to remove himself from your side. He counted it as a win-win.
And from that moment on, he did his best- his very best- to keep his hands off of you. To stay as far away as possible. To ensure that you would be safe.Â
He couldnât risk your well-being, not again.
------
It wasnât quite what you expected him to say. And though it was a far better reason than the affair you concocted for him during your downward spiral, it still didnât make much sense.Â
âLast time?âÂ
What exactly happened last time? You wracked your brain, searching your memories for some terrible event- but you came up empty. And just as you were about to call bullshit on Buckyâs reasoning, you stumbled upon the memory of your innocuous, minute-long black out.Â
âOh, the thing with me passing out?â Â
Bucky gave a solemn nod. At the thought of it, his face lost all color, all warmth. A sickly shade of gray tainted his skin.
âBuck, I know that was kind of weird and not at all ideal, but it was fine,â you shrugged, âIt wasnât a big deal.â
You took a cautious step toward him, and much to your dismay, he countered with a step back.Â
âIf anything, it was a fluke.â Again, you took a step in his direction. And again, he backed away.Â
Bucky feared what might happen when you backed him into a corner, when his spine hit the wall. He knew heâd have to slip from your grasp and vacate the room. That heâd have to find an escape. But he knew it would hurt you. After weeks of no warmth, no touching, no physical intimacy, you were barely hanging on by a thread. And if he ran from the room, it would surely cause that thread to snap. But wasnât that better than the snapping of your neck? Or your spine? Wasnât it better for you to hurt emotionally, rather than physically?
âBuck, itâs never happened before, and I highly doubt it will ever happen again,â you said. âI didnât sleep well the night before, and I had a long day leading up to that. I didnât eat breakfast or lunch, I was dehydrated, and Iâd been sick the week prior. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that made me pass out. Not you.âÂ
You intertwined your fingers, locking them together in search of any kind of touch. Any physical reassurance. âSeriously, Buck, that will never happen again. I promise.â
Bucky knew of one surefire way to ensure it would never, ever happen again. All he had to do was keep his distance. If he could refrain from touching you, if he could keep his hands to himself, youâd be safe.
But youâd be miserable- he knew you would. And as he gave you a long once-over, a sharp pain shot through him like lightning. Tear tracks trailed down your cheeks. Your eyes were red and puffy. Dark circles stained your under eyes- you hadnât been sleeping, had you? No, youâd been staying up all night, worrying about Bucky. About the state of your relationship.Â
And when he noticed the way youâd tangled your hands together, the way your right thumb stroked against the back of your left hand, he couldâve sworn heâd been stabbed through the chest. You were so desperate for affection, so robbed of touch, that you were trying- and failing- to self-soothe.Â
âI know it was scary for you,â he finally said. âAnd I know youâre the one who passed out, so Iâm not trying to make this about me- I swear. But it wasâŚâ He, too, found himself absentmindedly searching for physical comforts. He slowly raked a hand through his hair a few times, but it didnât have the same effect; only your hands could bring him peace. âIt was scary for me, too.â
A pang of anxiety rocketed through you. How could you have been so selfish? So heartless toward Buckyâs plight? Of course, heâd been scared. Of course, the events of that night affected him, too. And you knew that if the situation were reversed, you wouldâve been paralyzed with fear. With worry.Â
Youâd just gotten so swept up, so overwhelmed by the loss of his hands. His lips. His arms. It darkened your periphery and gave you tunnel-vision. All you could see- all you could feel- was the cold. The emptiness. The fear of losing him.
âShit, baby, Iâm-â you reached for Bucky but recoiled. âIâm so sorry. You just- you said you were fine. Every time I asked, you swore everything was okay. So I thought-â
âI knowâŚâ Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek. He let his head droop, allowed his gaze to drop to the floor. And he stayed that way. For a while.
His hands dug deep into his pockets and his shoulders fell forward ever so slightly. He found himself awash in regret. Longing. Loneliness. He knew it was his fault; heâd done this to himself. Heâd chosen to isolate, to pull away. But it was the safest option for you, wasnât it? And your safety came before anything and everything else- full stop.Â
âIt took me a long time,â he finally said, âit took me a long time to be able to touch you. I couldnât bring myself to do it forâŚâ He silently thought back on that time, adding up the days where he kept his hands to himself- but they were far too numerous. âFor a while. Do you remember that?â
You nodded. âYeah, but I- I guess I always figured it was just some old-fashioned, chivalrous, nineteen-forties type of thingâŚâ
âWell, that was,â a small smile flickered across his face, âthat was part of it. But the real reason is that I was too scared. To touch you, I mean.â His smile disappeared. His features suddenly fell. His eyes darkened. âSometimes, I donât know my own strength, you know? And I was too- I was so afraid that Iâd hurt you, baby.âÂ
âOhâŚâ You hadnât thought of it that way.Â
âI had to kind of overcome that fear, and it took time. I think it took me over a month just to hold your hand- and even then, it was only for a second.â
Buckyâs words had an endless darkness to them- a darkness you were well acquainted with by now. When he was really down, when he was going through a particularly miserable time, his voice took on the pitch-black tone of the abyss. And when he found himself drowning in the obsidian sea, it was your hands that guided him out. Youâd hold him close to your body, wrapping him in the safety of your embrace- and slowly, heâd wade out of his agony.Â
But this time was different.Â
No matter desperately you longed to touch him, to comfort him, to save him- you couldnât. He didnât want your hands, your body anywhere near him. Of course, he did want you close- he just wouldnât allow it.Â
âBut you know Iâve never been afraid of you, right?â Your arm twitched with want. Almost on autopilot, your hand tried to reach out and touch him, but you forbade it. âIâve never thought that youâd hurt me-â
âI know.â He couldnât stop himself from smiling. You never saw him as a monster or a threat- you never saw him the way he saw himself. âBut when we first started dating, I was having these nightmares. I actually had them for the first year of our relationship- at the leastâŚâ
Your heart sank. He had enough nightmares as it was; and to know that youâd somehow delivered him a fresh crop of terror made you nauseous.
âEvery night when I went to sleep, Iâd have these awful dreamsâŚâ His eyes took on a hollow quality as he hurdled backward and fell into his memories. âThey always started out okay- they seemed like normal dreams. In some of them, we were hugging. In others, we were having sex. And everything was fine. But then, youâd start-â He dragged a few fingers across his bottom lip and down his chin, âyouâd start bleeding out of your mouth. Your eyes would roll back in your head. And youâd collapse. Youâd die in my arms. Every time.â
A small gasp filled your lungs, âBuckâŚâ It was your most basic, most intrinsic instinct to comfort Bucky with soft, gentle touches. Your hands were his homing signal, and when he got lost in the dark labyrinth of his past, you automatically guided him to safety. You couldnât remember a time when youâd ever caged that reflex- until now. He stood in front of you, completely despondent, and you couldnât do a damn thing to help him.
âAnd the other night- it was exactly like one of my nightmares. You went completely limp, baby, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You were unresponsive. I was so scared, IâŚâ He almost didnât want to say the words. Didnât want to tempt the universe by voicing his greatest fear. âI thought I killed you. I thought Iâd held you too tight and crushed your spine, or something. I had to-â He cleared his throat, forcing the oncoming emotion away, âI actually had to feel for a pulse to make sure you were still alive.â
âBaby, I- I didnât know that.â Heâd conveniently left that out when he walked you through what happened. Heâd sidestepped his horror and his trauma and put you first, as he always did. âBut youâd never hurt me- you couldnât.â
He shrugged. âMaybe not on purpose. But I thought Iâd gone too far in the heat of the moment, andâŚâ He couldnât finish his sentence. âEven though you didnât pass out because of me, Iâm still- I canât get over it. I canât stop thinking about it. It was like one of my nightmares had come to life- it hit way too close to home.â He pressed his palms to his eyes for a moment and forced himself to catch his breath. Only when he felt his heartrate return to normal did he speak again. âSo, Iâve been scared- too scared to touch you.â
It shattered you. All Bucky did- all heâd ever wanted to do- was protect you. And though heâd spent the last three weeks aching for his best girl, he didnât dare lay a finger on you- all in the name of your safety. Sure, his execution wasnât the best, but his intentions were pure and kind, as they always were.Â
âBut I know I didnât⌠I didnât handle this the right way. And Iâm sorry- Iâm so sorry I pulled away,â he tripped over himself again and again, desperately begging for your understanding. For your forgiveness. âI know youâre not happy- believe me, Iâm not happy either. Iâve been miserable this whole time- I miss you so much, sweetheart. And I never wanted to hurt you like this. I just didnâtâŚâ He gave a small shake of his head, âI didnât want to hurt you physically, either. And I didnât know what to do. So, I figured that keeping my hands off of you was safest. But I didnât mean to upset you.â
All the work heâd done, all the effort heâd put into fixing his self-image had crumbled in one fell swoop- all because you didnât have the wherewithal to eat breakfast and stay hydrated three weeks ago. Buckyâs normally upright posture was sloped, his shoulders curved forward. He had the same hollow look in his eye that he had when youâd first met him. And now that heâd spent more than five minutes with you, you noticed all of the fingernails on his right hand were bitten down to the quick.
âShit. Buck, Iâm- Iâm so sorry, baby.â You dried your cheeks on the sleeve of your hoodie. âI fucked upâŚâ
âNo, no. This is all on me- I fucked up. I basically abandoned you.â His voice took on a harsh, sharp edge he only ever reserved for use against himself. You knew the inside of his head was a horror scene, full of admonishing comments and self-flagellation. You wished you could rescue him from his own mind.Â
But his tone softened when he spoke about you, âYou didnât do anything wrong, sweetheart-â
âBuck, I accused you of cheating,â you nearly scoffed. It was ridiculous. Completely absurd. That you believed for even a moment that Bucky could actually have a mistress proved just how out of your mind you were. But grief, you figured, was capable of making people believe crazy things. âThat was absolutely wrong of me. And I didnât even-â you shook your head. âI didnât even think that the other night might have affected you-â
âYou were upset, and rightfully so.â He absolved you of any blame, any guilt. âPlus, you were the one who blacked out, not me. My feelings on the subject arenât nearly as important as yours.â
âBut you witnessed it. And it scared you. A lot.â You hated knowing that heâd been too horrified, too paralyzed with fear to even hold your hand. And the fact that heâd dealt with all of it alone was enough to force you to your knees. âI shouldâve known better- I shouldâve known you were upset. Iâm so sorry, Buck. This was so unfair to you, I-â
He held up a hand, halting your words. âYou canât read my mind, sweetheart. And I couldâve communicated better.â He flashed you a sad smile, âThatâs something I said Iâd work on- communication. And Iâm getting better at it, but Iâm not perfect yet.â
âIâm not either, so⌠I guess we both have some stuff to work on. I probably shouldnât go around alleging that you had an affair out of the blue.â You crossed your arms over your chest, hugging them tight to your body. Even if Bucky wasnât sleeping with someone else, he still hadnât allowed himself to touch you. And you were no match for the bone-chilling cold that had settled into the apartment.
âUm, okay, you know what? We can actually- letâs completely forget I said anything about this. Just put it out of your mind, alright?â This time, it was you who retreated. You who stepped away.Â
âSweetheart, wait-â Bucky adopted your role as the pursuer. He took a few strides in your direction, anxious to close the gap between you. He felt you slipping through his fingers, like he may never regain what the two of you used to have.Â
âNo, Buck, itâs okay. Weâre okay. I just want you to do whatever works for you. I donât want you to be hurting all the time, I donât want you to be scared.â Again and again, you stroked your thumbs over your upper arms, but it didnât bring you a hint of comfort. âAnd if that- if that means you can never touch me again, Iâll understand-â
âThatâs not what I want- thatâs absolutely not what I want,â Buckyâs eyes were wide. Almost crazed. It was as though the thought of never touching you again threatened to push him to the brink of madness. âI just need to⌠I need to take it slow. I have to start back at square one, like I did when I first met you. Is that okay? Can you- â
âWhatever you need, Iâm on board.â It was an automatic, instinctual response. Your voice was steady and even, free from any breaks or signs of uncertainty. Youâd do anything for him, anything to ease his mind. âWe can move as slowly as you need- thereâs no rush.â
âBut are you⌠are you sure?â His words dripped with anxiety, with fear. âCause I can- I can try to get over it. I donât want you to be miserable, doll. I can-â
âBuck, itâs okay.â
âBaby, I feel like I mightâŚâ He nearly doubled over, âIâm afraid Iâm gonna lose you over this.â
âYou wonât- I promise, you wonât.â Another surge of need coursed through you, begging you to wrap Bucky in an embrace, but you kept your hands to yourself. Youâd never push him, would never dream of making him uncomfortable. âYou will never lose me. Iâm here for you, Iâm not going anywhere. I donât care how long it takes.â
And you meant it. Now that Bucky let you in on his secret, you understood that there had to be some distance. Some space. Of course, youâd still miss the physical intimacy. The sleepy mornings spent with your body draped across his chest. The late nights full of depravity and lust. But with the looming darkness of a possible affair banished, you could wait.
Though, you didnât have to wait long at all.
Because Bucky vanquished space remaining between your body and his. He strode eagerly, anxiously across the room and raised his right hand, desperate to feel you again. But just as his palm grew close to your cheek, he faltered. His brain struggled to reign him in, to put a pause on his possibly dangerous plan. Only millimeters remained between his skin and yours, but he couldnât find it in him to close the final gap.Â
âItâs okay,â you said. âTake your time.â
It was the final push he needed. And finally, he touched you again. His palm lightly ghosted over your cheek, and tears instantly crested over your lash line. The feeling of relief, of home, was almost intoxicating. It was the lightest, softest touch- almost imperceptible. But to you- to Bucky- it was like a fireworks show.Â
And after testing the waters with his feather-light touch, he found himself nearly begging for more.Â
He allowed his palm to actually rest against your face, to cup your cheek the way he always did. And it acted like an instant pain reliever. The excruciating ache in your chest relented, and your muscles slackened as they released their knots. An all-encompassing warmth wrapped around your entire body, finally ridding you of the vicious cold youâd suffered through all these weeks. This was the warmth you knew you couldnât live without, the warmth only Bucky could provide.Â
His knees almost buckled beneath him, but he wouldnât allow it. He wouldnât allow anything to take this moment from either of you. All this time, heâd felt unmoored, adrift, lost in a dark, endless sea. And no matter how hard he fought, he couldnât seem to find his way back to shore. But with his skin pressed against yours, he finally felt steady. Stable. You provided him with a guiding light. An anchor. He felt more like himself than he had in the last three weeks, all because of you.
Your tears dampened Buckyâs skin, but he didnât mind. He brushed them gently away with a light sweep of his thumb.Â
âCan I?â you motioned to the tears trailing down his cheek.
And after a moment of thought, he gave you a nod. Your hand drifted lightly over his skin to mop up his tears, but your touch only brought on more waterworks. He was so starved of your affection that even the lightest touch made him whimper. He let out a soft, grateful sound that knocked the breath from your chest.Â
The two of you remained there a while, soaking in the sensation of the other. Bucky didnât dare to hug you, and kissing you was still off limits. But his palm remained flush with your cheek for as long as you allowed- and you had no urge to ever remove it. Â
You knew there was a long road ahead for him, but you didnât mind. Starting back at square one with him was something you could handle. Something the two of you could handle together.
âItâs kind of a bummer that I didnât get to make good use of yourâŚâ Bucky gestured to your discarded garter belt and thigh-highs, âoutfit.â
You let loose a laugh that vibrated under his palm- the sensation sent a wave of warmth cresting over him.
âItâs alright, Buck. Iâll wear it again, I promise.â You leaned into his touch, greedily searching for more of him. âYou can take as much time as you need, okay? Iâll be here when youâre ready.â
âââââââââââ
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His Empire of Desire
Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader
Summary || After a gruelling day with maintaining his criminal empire, Bucky returns home to you, seeking comfort and passion in your touch and words.
World Count || 3016
Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut â NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mob/mafia business, mention of violence/torture/murder, explicit content/language, pet names, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging/choking, fingering, spanking, rough fucking, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.
Authors Note || Itâs been a whiiiiile⌠Hopefully Iâm back for good now. But anyways, this is a WIP that I started at the beginning of 2023 and I finally finished a few days ago. Enjoy, and I will be back with more fics soon. But Iâll be taking my time and not rushing/stressing myself with it. I want to have fun and write again, but I wonât force it when I donât have energy so there wonât be weekly fics most likely.
Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!
Mob!Bucky Masterlist
I donât do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!
Once the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting shadows over the cityâs towering buildings, Bucky made his way home after another demanding day maintaining his criminal empire. The day, much like the others, had been a grueling mix of meetings, negotiations, and the unsettling business of violence that defined Buckyâs world of organized crime. Accustomed to the daily occurrences of bloodshed, torture, and death, even the strongest individuals, like Bucky, had their moments when frustration and weariness weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. All Bucky craved was solace and comfort in the embrace of his wifeâs warmth and love, concluding the night with the pleasure of burying himself deep within her. That singular thought occupied his mind as he sat in the backseat of the Rolls, heading towards the penthouse that overlooked the cityâhis sanctuary, his kingdom, and you, his Queen.
âHave a good evening, Sir,â Buckyâs chauffeur nodded firmly in the rearview mirror, receiving an equal parting nod as Bucky stepped out of the car.
As Bucky ascended the private elevator, his fingers itched intensely for your presence, yearning to wash away the dayâs cruelty with your loving touch and mend his wounds with your caring words. The ascent to his and your floor, typically swift, felt like an eternity. Leaning his forehead against the mirrored elevator walls, hands clenched on each side of his head, he muttered to himself, âCome on, come on. Hurry the fuck up. I fucking need her.â
Finally, on the top floor, the elevator pinged and opened, revealing the vast penthouse. Bucky swiftly departed, entering the one place where he truly felt safe and at home. The familiar scent of your shared home immediately calmed him, normality easing his frustrations. As he entered the spacious living room, soft music filled the space, accompanied by the sound of your bare footsteps drawing closer. It was everything he had longed for after his gruelling day.
The ache he felt for you gradually faded as you approached. Clad in a silk robe, your captivating form moved with confidence, the curves of your body dancing beneath the expensive material. Your face, bare and glowing, reflected the wear and tear of your own long day.
Though Bucky adored when you were all primed and dolled up, there was an ethereal quality about you when stripped down to your natural beauty that captivated him even more.
He released a deep, heavy breath he hadnât known heâd been holding in, eyes closing briefly in bliss at the anticipation of you finally being beside him.
âBucky,â you murmured as you stood before him, assessing him with a hint of worry. His shoulders sagged under the weight of the day, his eyes pleading. You understood immediatelyâhe needed you now more than ever. Sensing his need for your presence and words, you prepared to offer the comfort he sought.
âBaby, you look exhausted,â you murmured, pressing yourself against him, cupping the back of his skull with your hands, thumbs softly grazing his earlobes. Your shimmery eyes met his weary gaze.
He groaned quietly as he leaned his forehead against yours. His fingers spread across the silky material on your hips, pulling you closer, needing the reassurance of your body. âDoll, I fucking need you,â he groaned, pushing his fingers harder into your covered flesh. âNow more than ever, baby.â His plea blended fiery lust with loving need.
âCome on,â you mumbled, laying a feather-light kiss on his lips, soft fingers laced with his calloused ones. ���I know just what you need,â you purred, promising to provide whatever he neededâwhether it be a loving cuddle and kisses or an intense physical connection, to bend you over and fuck your body and mind senseless. You were his.
You guided him through the dark hall to the luxurious en-suite, where the spacious marble shower awaited. Turning on the cascading stream of warm water, you beckoned him to come closer and let you take his stress away.
âLet me take your stress away, baby,â you purred, approaching him once again. Bucky watched your movements intently, the weariness in his eyes transforming into a look of pure lust and the longing for the gentle care only his wife could provide.
With your hands at the lapels of his suit jacket, you pulled it away from his firm body, letting it fall to the floor. Slowly, while never breaking your gaze from his fiery eyes, you unbuttoned each button with precise movements, pushing the fabric of his muscular torso. Your eyes roamed over his chiseled physique as your hands lay flat on his pecs, adorned with specs of hair. Your palms moved down the planes of his firm muscles, making him moan at your gentle touch. Unbuttoning his suit pants, you pulled them down along with his underwear, leaving him standing naked before you.
Unfastening the sash of your silk robe, you let it drop, standing completely naked before him. Taking his hand in yours, you led him into the steaming shower, the warm mist enveloping you both.
Bucky stood under the shower head, letting the water soak him from head to toe, washing away the burdens of the day. You joined him, placing your palms on his chest with a gentle touch as you stood flush against himâyour bodies melded together by the water. His hardening cock pressed against your abdomen. He dropped his gaze to your burning eyes that mirrored his own, before trailing them over your naked and wet body, intensifying the heat.
With a groan, he knotted his fingers in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist. Your arms curled underneath his, placing your palms on his muscular back. Your pulse quickened with excitement, knowing where the evening was headed. All that was needed was your encouragement for Bucky to take it in the direction he desired.
âIâm yours, Bucky. Take what you need. Take me. Love me. Use me. Do whatever you need and desire right now. My body and mind are yours.â
He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, claiming and owning your mouth. His sweet and tender kisses quickly escalated into firm and needy ones. The tip of his tongue swept your bottom lip, pleading for your taste. As your tongues met, his fingers tightened in your hair, and his hand slapped the apple of your ass, followed by a firm squeeze. You whined into his mouth, pushing your body into his wet and slippery one, surrendering yourself.
Your hand wrapped around his firm cock in a tight squeeze, jerking his length in deep and slow motions while your tongue continued to dance with his. Bucky pulled away with your bottom lip between his teeth, groaning against your puffy lips as he slowly fucked himself into your grip.
âTell me what you need, baby,â you purred against his lips, flicking the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip. âIâm all yours.â
âGet on your knees, baby,â he growled. âSuck my cock like the whore I know you are for it.â His hand came up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pussy throb without suffocating you. âIâll make you cry and choke on it while I fuck your mouth, use that tight throat.â A moan of need escaped at his filthy words. You loved being his adoring wife and his dirty whore. His lips curled in a satisfied smile at the duality you embodiedâWhore and Queen.
He let you go, and without hesitation, you pressed sloppy kisses to his chest. Fingers traced the dips and planes of his chiseled physique as you continued kissing and licking down his bodyâhis abs, his defined v-lineâuntil you were lowered on your knees before him, mouth agape as you stared at him through your lashes. The water from the shower head above made his body gleam, intensifying the irresistible appeal of him towering over you. His cock stood fully erect, practically begging for attention, begging to be sucked. A shiver ran through your body, and a whimper escaped your lips as your pussy throbbed, eager for the same treatment your throat would soon receiveâgetting fucked and bruised.
Aroused with anticipation, your body practically shaking, you grasped him firmly in your hand as your tongue traced the protruding veins along his shaft, licking up to his bulbous head. Kissing and sucking the tip, you moaned at the taste of him. With no patience left, Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to release him from your mouth. His hot gaze met yours as a stinging yet delicious tug prompted a sharp gasp from your lips as tears welled in your eyesâthe first of many for the evening.
âDonât tease me, doll. Iâve had enough of being undermined today,â he groaned, his voice laced with cruel warning. âNow suck it like the pretty little whore I know you are for it.â
âYes, Sir. Iâll be your good little whore.â
Obediently complying, you engulfed his length as Buckyâs guttural groan vibrated off the shower walls. Your choice of words, and taking him all with no hesitation, only fueled his burning desire.
You took him deep, inch by thick inch until all of him nestled in your throat. Tears ran down your already wet cheeks, and the sensation of your lips wrapped around him and your throat suffocating his cock with your choked coughs made Bucky tip his head back in bliss. Moaning thickly, he pushed his hips forward into your compliant mouth.
Withdrawing to catch your breath, a thick string of saliva trailed from your lips to his tip. A testament to your eagerness to please the man above you.
âSo gorgeous,â Bucky smirked, looking down at you with tears and saliva running down your chin. âSuch an eager whore to please me,â he murmured, brushing his thumb across your lips.
With no further hesitations, you wrapped your hand tightly around the base to jerk him off, while your mouth engulfed his swollen and leaking tip. Your hand and mouth worked in perfect syncâjerking him with force and delicious pressure while your head bobbed on his cock, slurping and sucking. Buckyâs hips met your movements, making you choke and gag by his rough thrusts. Your other hand squeezed and kneaded his firm ass cheek, pulling him closer and anchoring yourself to him as you sucked him off.
Buckyâs vocalization became a hot and heavy symphony of moans, groans, and every guttural sound in betweenâa testament to you working him thoroughly with your hands and mouth.
His hips jerked, his muscles tensing, on the verge of climax, and spilling into your mouth, and you wanted nothing more than a taste of him. But he pulled you off before he could finish down your throat, making you wheeze and chest heave to catch your breath after he released you.
Reading the disappointment on your face, he brushed your tear and water-stained cheeks and swollen lips, a smirk playing on his own. âDonât worry, doll. Iâll come down your throat next time.â His voice was low and sultry, laced with delicious promise. âI need to feel your tight cunt wrapped around me, now.â
Helping you up, he met your lips in a sloppy kiss, slapping your ass with a force that made you gasp before turning you around and directing you to bend over for him on the marble bench.
You bent over, placing your forearms on the cold stone, presenting your ass for him. The view of both your tight holes a tantalizing sight for him.
During the blowjob, your pussy had throbbed with need, eager for the same treatment as your throat, and you had never felt as frustrated as you had now, waiting for his cock. Looking over your shoulder at Bucky, his fist jerking his cock as his hot and burning gaze trailed over your dripping cunt, which he would fill and come deep inside.
âPlease, Bucky,â you cried. âI need you cock so bad.â Your voice thick with desperate desire to be fucked and used by him. âPlease, please, fuck me. Use me. Use my cunt.â You knew after the day he had that the fuck would be brutal, and you would love nothing more. You loved his gentle and caring nature that he reserved only for you, but you also loved to be used and fucked like a whore by him. The duality of his two sides only makes you love him deeper with each passing day.
He chuckled, relishing the power he held over you, the absolute desperation in your pleading voice and submissive body. âPatience, doll,â he replied with a low growl. âIâve had a rough day, and I will take my time with you.â
He firmly kneads your ass in his palms, rough hands grabbing and squeezing the flesh before delivering a sharp slap that sends a jolt of pleasurable pain up your spine. Your toes curl, and a whimper escapes your parted lips as the cruel laughter from Bucky fills the space. Despite the sobs and cries during the next two spanks, your pussy grows wetter at his cruelty, soaking your inner thighs.
Bucky curses under his breath, running two fingers through your messy folds, circling your needy clit in teasing strokes. A breath of relief escapes you at finally being stimulated, even though itâs not at the satisfaction you crave. He groans as he pushes two fingers inside your wet cunt, fucking it in slow strokes, making your breath shake at the stretch.
âWhat made you this wet, doll? Sucking and choking on my cock, or me spanking and bruising your ass?â
âB-both,â you reply with a shaky voice.
âThatâs my good whore,â he growls, softly patting your ass where his brutal hands landed.
With the head of his cock, he teases your bundle of nerves, before slowly and oh-so-deliciously pushing his length inside your welcoming cunt. You moan and whine through your swollen and parted lips as he stretches you out to accommodate his size. âFuck, so tight, baby.â
He forces the rest of his length balls deep, making you gasp, while he moans, at stuffing you completely. âAh, fuck⌠so big,â you whine, closing your eyes and fists tightly, adjusting to him.
With a low, throaty chuckle in response to your reaction, Bucky gives you a moment before setting his rhythm, hands firmly gripping your soft hips, fingers digging into your skin.
He holds nothing back as he unleashes himself, intensifying the brutal pace, thrusting deeply into your pussy like his existence depends on it. The tip of his swollen cock repeatedly brushes against your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your nerves, eliciting soft whimpers from your lips.
âSo good for me, doll. Such a tight, pretty pussy,â he grunts, lost in the sensation of your cunt and the pleasure it brings him.
You tilt your head to meet his burning gaze, the fiery passion in his eyes searing your exposed and submitted body before him.
âFuck, itâs all yours, baby. All of me. Only for you,â you whimper, the soft symphony of your gentle whispers and moans enticing Bucky closer to the edge, fucking you roughly and chasing his high. âKeep using it, baby. Claim me. Take what you want,â you urge, your words a breathless plea for him to keep unleashing his pent-up anger and frustrations on your eager and pleading cunt.
As you ascend to pleasurable heights, your impending orgasm closing in swiftly, the clenching of your walls around his pulsating cock signals his pending release as well. His hand slides around your throat, lifting you upright amidst his primal thrusts.
âAre you gonna come for me, baby? Come on my cock as I fill your greedy cunt?â His gruff voice sends a shiver down your spine.
The searing pleasure, coupled with the firm grip on your throat, leaves you with no choice but to nod, conveying that you are close to an eruption with an earth-shattering explosion.
âOpen that pretty mouth for me and use your words, doll.â A sharp slap to your thigh jolts you out of the haze, prompting you to gather yourself and respond to his demand.
âYes,â you managed to gasp. âIâm gonna come. I need you to come inside me, baby,â you cry, craving his warmth like a good whore.
With those pleading words, Bucky surges over the edge. His grunts and moans resonating against your skin as he fills you up with his cum. The sensation of him pulsing and filling within you and the rhythmic movement of his hips have you tumbling over the edge. Waves of your release ripple through your body, shaking and convulsing, your cries of pleasure echoing off the tiled walls.
âGood girl,â Bucky moaned against your skin. His fingers skillfully play with your engorged clit to heighten the downfall of your orgasm. âYou take my cock and cum so well.â He continued to fuck and talk you through it, ensuring that your mind and body were consumed with nothing but pleasure and him.
The shared climax left you both suspended in the aftermath of your intense fucking. The air thick with echoes of your breathless satisfaction.
âHmm, my good girl,â Bucky muttered, withdrawing from your used cunt and turning you around. The warm water of the shower continued to rain down on you both, washing away the shared evidence of your intense and passionate lovemaking.
Bucky cupped your cheeks, brushing his thumbs across the skin beneath your eyes. His hands, which held your body with force only moments ago, now cradled your face as if you were the most delicate of artworks, which to him, you were more than a masterpiece. He captured your lips, kissing you with a mix of passion and need. Your arms held his waist, bringing his slick body closer to yours.
âLetâs get out and dry off, doll. I need to bury my face in that pretty cunt of yours before I hold you in my arms and express how much you mean to me for the rest of the night.â
Thank you for reading đ¤ Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!
#mob!bucky#mob!au#mafia!bucky#mafia!au#mob!bucky x reader#mob!bucky smut#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes one shot#sebastian stan#sebastian stan smut#marvel#marvel smut
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someone to stay
summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.
pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader
warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3
word count: 2.5k
a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :â)Â
Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep youâd managed to get.
There wasnât anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasonsâinjuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rateâyou had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew itâd only make the fatigue worse.
Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if youâd regret it later.
Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldnât be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.
After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadnât gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.
Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but youâd insisted otherwise, saying âthe bad guys donât take breaks.âÂ
He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasnât half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.
He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick peopleâs asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didnât come easy to anyone, but especially not you.
You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldnât argue against it anymore.
âYou canât be serious,â you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. âIâve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?â
âItâs not just the injury,â Steve countered. âYouâve been off your game. I canât risk losing one of our best members because youâre distracted.â
âIâm not disââ
âYou being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,â he cut you off, making you look away from him. âYouâre gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I canât deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.â
Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.
âSo this is about Bucky?â
âThis is about you, Y/n,â Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. âHe begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.â
Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. Itâd make you crumble, itâd make this whole situation real and you knew where youâd end up.Â
Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.
It was the right decision after all. However, Buckyâs chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadnât seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way youâd done so for him many times.Â
Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didnât settle Buckyâs own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but youâd sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night.Â
Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?
Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.
âSweetheart,â he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. âLet me see those pretty eyes, doll.â
Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.
âHi,â you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. âYouâre back early.â
âGot the job done quickly,â he fed your curiosity. âWhat are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?â
âWhat time is it?â You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position.Â
âAlmost 1,â Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. âHey, hey,â Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. âItâs okay, thereâs nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.â
You shook your head, avoiding Buckyâs gaze as you rubbed your eyes. âI shouldnât have slept that long.â
Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didnât go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you werenât sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.
âIs everything okay?â He asked again, never getting an answer from you.
You sighed. âI donât really know, Iâm just- Iâm always tired and donât wanna do anything even though I know I shouldnât just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but nowââ
âShh,â Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. âThere is still a lot of time left in the day, but I donât mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.â He kissed the top of your head a few times. âWe can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?â
You nodded, with a muffled âokayâ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom.Â
Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in.Â
You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you werenât the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.
Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Buckyâs body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.
âSteve mentioned you going back on the field again,â Bucky eased into the conversation. âYou feeling up for it?â Much to Buckyâs surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.â
Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. âIâm not ready.â
âI thought you wanted to get back,â Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.
âI do,â you nodded. âBut I just feel so⌠out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and itâs putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I donât really know whatâs wrong with me.â
Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. Heâd been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didnât always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.
The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all.Â
He decided right then and there heâd take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.
âIt happens, baby,â he reassured. âYouâve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?â
âYou donât have to, Bucky,â you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. âIâm serious, you donât have to pause your life for me. People still need help and Iâll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, soââ
âYou know youâre not gonna convince me otherwise, right?â He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. âI would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If youâre not okay, then my world isnât okay.â
âBut what if they really need youââ
âThey wonât,â Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. âNow come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?â
Knowing you couldnât say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair.Â
He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didnât want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you.Â
Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldnât help but tear up.Â
When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could.Â
âIâm here, sweetheart,â he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. âIâm not going anywhere.â
Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldnât have to reach up the whole time.Â
Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.
âYour hairâs getting long again,â you said, running your fingers through Buckyâs brown locks, the length now passing his ear. âAre you gonna cut it?â
Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.
âMaybe, maybe not,â he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.
Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.
Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. Youâd told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.
After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one.Â
âThank you,â you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. âFor never judging me.â
âI would never plan to,â he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. âWeâre human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Donât think that it excludes you, my love.â
Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough.Â
Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.
âWhat would I do without you?â
âForce yourself to do your hair routine every week,â Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.
You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. âI love you.â
âI love you more, doll,â he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.
Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew youâd return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky angst#bucky barnes x you#bucky x female reader#bucky imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff
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fri(end)s
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 3.8k
warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (donât do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if iâve missed anything!
a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, itâs been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :â) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in whatâs your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo
bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist
Buckyâs introduction to weed was something youâd been supremely proud of.
When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isnât too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.
You didnât know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartmentâhonestly, youâve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sadâwas beginning to weigh on your own nerves.
So, naturally, you thought of asking him if heâs ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.
The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.
It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. Youâd never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weedâand on a few special occasions, doing ediblesâwith your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?
***
After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew heâd be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.
Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didnât want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldnât exactly be opposed to it, but youâre not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesnât matter.
You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldnât mind you borrowing a shirt.
With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if youâre honest). Just like you thought, Buckyâs left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, itâs actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.
You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time youâre done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.
âGood morning, sunshine,â you greet with a teasing smile.
He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until heâs downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but youâve long since come to the conclusion that Buckyâs probably got a thing for painâboth physically and emotionally.
âRemind me to tell Sam he isnât allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,â he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. âIâve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.â
You hum. âSounds like my kind of woman, actually.â He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. âWant me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?â You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.
The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Buckyâs clothes that heâd left and dumping them on his bed. Youâll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.
Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after youâve sworn pain of death if he doesnât) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.
And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Buckyâs already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.
While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after youâve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times youâve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.
Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.
***
âHeâs such a dick,â Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch heâs practically become one with it.
The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. Itâs also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.
You hum at his comment. âMost men are.â
Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over youâve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.
âThatâs my shirt,â he states.
You look down at the shirt in question, of which youâve worn all day long and somehow heâs only just now noticing.
âWow, youâre like Sherlock Holmes or something,â you drawl.
Bucky stares some more, and then, âWhy are you wearing my shirt?â
âBecause I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,â you say in a âduhâ tone.
âButâŚâ He frowns. âItâs my favorite.â
You snort inelegantly. âBucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.â
âSo? What, I canât have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?â
âChrist,â you say on an exasperated exhale. âIâll give it back before bed, okay? I donât wanna move right now. Iâm scared Iâll bump into stuff again.â
Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how theyâre the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, itâs quite cute.
To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.
***
Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times youâve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that youâd gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps thatâs why.
On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize youâre⌠actually kind of horny. Itâs not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.
But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you donât even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Buckyâs attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.
Theyâre not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that youâre absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.
Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know heâs watchingâand suspiciously quietâyou canât help but let your fingers slither down to where youâre beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.
Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.
It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Buckyâs sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if heâs at all how youâve secretly imagined when youâre alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.
His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like heâs teasing himself. Like heâs teasing you. Your fingers donât stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.
Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.
You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.
Itâs good. Amazing, even. And itâs only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.
âCâmere,â he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldnât have argued anyway.
You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where heâs still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like youâd cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.
The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&Mâs you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he canât get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until youâre pliant for him.
He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it heâs nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and youâre gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.
You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Buckyâs mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.
It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like itâs floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, heâs got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where youâre sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.
He fucks you hard, but not fast. youâre both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like youâve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.
Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.
âI could stay buried in you for hours,â he mutters.
He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but thatâs a problem for much later.
âFuck,â he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. âI fucking knew it,â he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.
âKnewââ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. âKnew what?â
âYou walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,â he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.
At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, youâre not sure if itâs because Bucky is fucking you that well or if itâs the weed. Itâs probably both, and you have a split second thought that youâll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.
Itâs almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesnât help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as youâre unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.
âSo much better,â you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.
âBetter than what?â he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.
You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. âMy imagination,â you whimper.
Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.
âMine too,â he confesses and sends you reeling.
You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where youâre joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.
âWonât you be good for me and cum?â he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.
You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like youâve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things youâve ever heard, and it doesnât stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.
With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.
âPlease,â you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.
Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that youâre worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.
Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Buckyâs harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesnât move right away, of which youâre very thankful, because youâre not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.
âFuck,â he exhales, breaking the relative silence.
It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, heâs grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.
This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when youâre both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you itâll all turn out just fine.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes#pls take this away from me before i scream
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Vanilla Frosting
Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky takes a call at home and you decide to tease him a bit.
Word Count: Over 1k
Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, dirty thoughts, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you.
A/N: I blame these photos as they gave me CEO vibes. And @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer . Again, before our couple has Muffin and Bean. â¤ď¸ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
âI thought you said no calls, Boss.â
Bucky sighed and rolled up his sleeves as he looked toward the kitchen. You stood in the doorway with crossed arms and slow building irritation in your eyes. The sight of you always lightened his mood and made his heart race, but that look wasn't a good sign. Oh, he was in trouble.
Some sort of trouble.
As a CEO, he was always prepared to take the fall when it came to his company. Seeing your kissable mouth set in a grim line though? âItâs Steveâs fault,â he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.
âReally, Buck?â Steveâs voice rang out from the laptop speaker.
âYeah, really,â he snapped. When Steve found a partner like you, heâd get why he bent his will to you over everyone else. Hell, he welcomed Steve getting a bit of payback because it would mean his best friend would have found happiness. âIâm sorry, Cupcake,â he added in a softer tone to you.
He didnât want to take the call, he really didnât. All he wanted to do was hold you and forget about the stress of work for an evening. He even assured you that there would be no work tonight, but Steve insisted he get on a video chat with some of the executive team. God knew the punk was relentless, but the unimpressed look on your face made him want to fire everyone and start from scratch.
The two of you had plenty of money, so youâd be set if he went that route.
âSteveâs fault, huh?â You slowly smiled after a moment. âOkay. You take the call and Iâll start making some cupcakes.â
Bucky cocked his head with a confused stare as you went further into the kitchen and out of sight. Baking cupcakes wasn't out of the ordinary for you, but you saying âokayâ wasn't okay. He knew better. There was no possible way he was off the hook for this. He already had at least ten gifts in mind to buy you once the call wrapped up.
âI love you,â he called after you, not at all ashamed for anyone to hear that as they joined the meeting. If anyone eyeballed him or said an unkind word about voicing his feelings for you outside of the office, they could find another job.
âLove you, too!â You called back.
That brought a small smile to his face. âLetâs get started so we can all get back to our regular evening plans,â he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.
After a minute, he glanced over the monitor as he heard gentle movement in the kitchen. You weren't slamming things around, which was good. You understood how crazy things could get since you were his secretary. It didn't mean he enjoyed taking time away from the two of you and he didnât want you upset with him. Even if you weren't upset, he still had to make it up to you. He-
âHey, Bucky?â Your eyes lit up as you appeared in the doorway again with a small bowl. He was certain he forgot how to breathe when he eyed what you were wearing: a new black and white apron. And nothing else. Jesus fucking Christ. âYou want vanilla frosting for the cupcakes, right?â
Bucky subtly shifted in his seat as you sauntered further into the room, his throat dry at the sight of you. The curve of your hips, your hardened nipples teasing him through the fabric. Calling you beautiful wasn't enough. Your beauty was transcendent, indescribable. The kind that made the strongest of people drop to their knees. He was a powerful man, but still just a man at the end of the day and you rendered him powerless. And right now he needed to focus on the call, but how could he focus on anything but you?
He cleared his throat when Jack rambled on about something. Or was it John? Who gave a fuck? âCupcake,â he growled.
âI know I do. Maybe you can frost me later?â You scooped a bit of frosting onto your finger and wrapped your lips around it with an obscene moan. Thankfully he had his microphone turned off. They didn't need to hear your pretty sounds. âMmm.â
He groaned when you showed him your tongue. He knew it was frosting, but the image made it easy to picture you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock and showing him his release before you swallowed like a good girl. It took a lot of control not to palm himself. Surely everyone would understand if he ended the call now. Why the fuck did he take this call?
Making sure his hand was out of sight, he beckoned you closer with his finger. If he was lucky he could get you to take the apron off, sit in the nearby chair, and touch yourself. Or you could keep the apron on. As long as he could see your glistening pussy. Even looking wouldn't be enough. He had to get his mouth on it, his cock in it.
But you didn't go to him.
Instead, you tsked with the finger you licked and pointed at the laptop. âOh, no, Boss. You listened to Steve and took the call. Now deal with the consequences,â you smiled sweetly, turning on your heel and giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walked back into the kitchen.
Yep, he was in big trouble.
Bucky's fists clenched as he got back to the task at hand, but he also chuckled. He deserved a bit of blue balls for the time being. He also had to respect the way you played the game, but he knew how to play the game, too. Before the night was over, heâd be back in your good graces. Heâd eat one of your delicious cupcakes before he got a taste of you. And he'd remind you that he didn't have the world because of money, power, or any of that.
Bucky Barnes had the world because he had you.
Oh, these two. 𼰠Steve isn't even upset for getting blamed. 𤣠Love and thanks for reading! â¤ď¸
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#ceo!bucky barnes#ceo!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fic#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan#the winter soldier#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#husband!bucky barnes#sebastian stan x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#x reader#boss and cupcake#bucky fanfic#bucky fandom
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A Balm To The Heart
Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: After a long day at the woodyard, Bucky finds peace in his best girlâs arms.
Warnings: Pure unfiltered fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed, Buckyâs POV, driving while sleepy (donât do it!!), pet names, established relationship, oh and did I mention fluff?
Authorâs Note: Divider by @saradika-graphics. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier thank you so much my darling, youâre my rock 𧥠This is part of @elixirfromthestars cafe writing challenge!! Using the prompt đ âI like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.â My first ever challenge Iâve been apart of and I had the most fun with it!! Thank you, my sweet Mel! đĽ°
The Love In The Woods Collection âď¸
The sun began to lay on the precipice of the day, the light slowly fading out to make way for the dark of the night. Bucky fought the tiredness claiming his eyes, tempting him to fall asleep at the wheel. If you knew he was driving in his state, youâd throw a fit.Â
But he had to make it home to his baby.Â
Exhaustion weighed Bucky down from a long day at the woodyard. Hauling timber all day to prepare the town for the harsh winter coming up was enough to make his old joints ache with pain. However, with the lack of staff due to the storm blocking most of the roads, he had to do it all himself.Â
Bucky just wanted to sink into you.Â
All day, he was tormented by the prettiest image of you snuggled into your shared bed, pouty lips and pleading eyes begging him to call in sick, to stay home with you.Â
And even though his sanity was tested, Bucky regretfully declined. All the old folks needed wood to keep their homes heated in the cold season and his mind wouldnât have settled knowing a full day would be lost to his own selfishness.Â
Though as he drove back to his cabin, rivers of golden beams shining into his truck, Bucky wished he had taken your offer. Â
Although, his sourness sweetened into a warm affection as he caught the glint of his wedding ring in the dying sunlight.Â
You love sunsets, Bucky smiled to himself. He had to take you to the top of the mountains to watch another one soon.
He could imagine you at home, watching the remnants of the day with its beautiful colours reflecting into your eyes.Â
Sunsets mean the end of the day, fresh starts and hope that tomorrow will bring us more peace than today. Remember that, Bear.Â
Your voice instantly calmed the mess in his mind, the stress that had wound his muscles tight. With a heavy sigh, Bucky let go of the toll the day had taken on him and instead focused on where the path ahead would lead him â you.Â
The truck grumbled to a stop in the driveway and Bucky didnât bother stopping to grab his tools or his bags. The pink painted door called to him, called your name, his home.Â
Throwing the door open, Bucky quickly shook off his coat and boots. His steps didnât falter as he made his way to the bedroom. Not when he began peeling his clothes off one by one on the way. Not when emotion clogged up his eyes at the smell of your sweet scent lingering around the house.Â
And there you were as he entered his bedroom. Once crafted by his bare hands as part of his first home after he left college, now his safe space in which he was lucky enough to share with his wife. His haven.Â
It looked like you hadnât moved from the morning. Still tangled in the sheets, your hair was messy from your tossing and turning, though your skin glowed beautifully in the golden sunlight that shimmered through the window. The orange tones that tattooed your body almost gave you a vintage look and the sight was enough to render Bucky speechless.Â
Just like the day you showed up on his doorstep after years apart.Â
Your smile was blinding as you looked up at him, tearing yourself away from your fantasy book he knew you loved so much and placing it on the nightstand. âHey, baby. I missed you.âÂ
If that didnât do things to Buckyâs heart.Â
âDolly,â he gasped, a slight whine to his voice.Â
Instantly, because youâre so well in tune with him, your arms opened wide â an invitation to join you. âCome here, you big lug.âÂ
Bucky didn't waste another second. Clad in only his underwear, he all but jumped onto the bed, the pristinely crafted wood of the frame creaking from old age.Â
You shifted the duvet to swaddle around his frame once he reached you, cocooning him in your accumulated warmth over the day. Feeling your bare skin against his after hours away from you was liberating, like he had ascended to heaven. Even after years of wedded bliss, Bucky still got tingles whenever the two of you touched.Â
You were pure magic wrapped in a bottle.Â
âCan I lay my head on you?â Bucky asked quietly, relishing in the serenity you so easily provided him.Â
You laughed, the sound mesmerising to his ears. âLike you even have to ask. Tell me about your day, Bear.âÂ
Needing no other permission, Bucky laid in your arms. Positioning his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your stomach and his legs intertwined with yours. He was so much bigger than you, comically so. But Bucky needed to lose himself in your softness from time to time.Â
He groaned as the muscles in his joints finally had a chance to relax. âI would much rather hear about your day, sweetheart. Lemme hear your voice for a while, will ya?âÂ
Bucky looked up to find your cheeks tightened from the large, bashful smile on your face, one that he knew you had tried to smother but failed to do so. They were his favourite.Â
You shook your head fondly and squeezed him before beginning to recall your day. It wasnât filled with much â mostly with bathroom breaks when you could rip yourself out of bed, a trip to the home library down the hall to pick the next book of your series, and lastly an hour of baking. Even so, Bucky listened to you intently, his soul replenishing more with each activity you listed off.Â
Because that was his goal in life. His vow to you in marriage. To make your life as easy and simple as possible. To bring you peace when the world threatened to dull your sparkle.Â
And boy was he satisfied to know he had achieved that.Â
Buckyâs eyes began to grow heavy, the kind that he couldnât fight any longer. You must have noticed from the loosening of his limbs and the sudden lightness to his body. âAre you sleepy, baby?âÂ
The rhythm of your heart soothed him as he murmured a lazy hum of agreement.Â
âYou can rest now, Bear.â Your soft voice sounded further away as sleep started to overtake him, like the prettiest lullaby heâd ever heard. âIâve got you.âÂ
Before the whispers of slumber could steal him, though, Bucky smiled â drunken and free. âI like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.â
The giggle that vibrated from your body to his only made him fall even more in love with you. Bucky purred like a cat as you ran your nails through his hair and finally let himself go.Â
The last sensation that registered in his mind was the feeling of your lips pressed against his head and a last declaration of love. âThank you for being the reason it does.âÂ
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff
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