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sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says.

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?”

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.”

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor.

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake.

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular.

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again.

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her.

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?”

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out.

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does.

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them.

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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Square G5: Dom!Bucky Barnes

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truedumpling · 2 months ago

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does anyone else lose their mind over how they have things explicitly break under bucky’s weight whenever he jumps on them because

#it’s like they’re trying to show us how strong and powerful and domineering he is #i am picking up what they’re putting down #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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pandagirl45 · 5 days ago

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Obsessive Bucky, Tony knows this and he holds his cheeks everytime Bucky comes back a little redder.

Tony smiles sweetly pushing back the sticky black hair, "Bug-a-boo, you hurt someone again?"

Bucky huffs softly nuzzling Tony, "they made you mad."

#tony stark #bucky barnes #winteriron #tony stark x bucky barnes #bucky would mark up tony neck and shoulders to assert dominance #bucky being possessive and in love #i do enjoy that trope #tony and his morbid ass would be endeared by it #rhodey: tones he pushed someone off a cliff for you #tony: okay? steve did the same for you #super soldiers who are possessive #pfft sorry threw in a little warshield

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babysbreathbabes · 7 months ago

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babysbreathbabes rules & recommendations

about me: ashlynn ◦ 20s ◦ she/her

rules:

✧ you must be 18 or older to interact with my blog

✧ ageless & blank blogs will be blocked

✧ don't send asks/dms asking for pictures or real life videos, real photos of me r icky and I wont send them

important notes:

✧ i don't do write. I love writing but not exactly fanfics as I don't have time nor the motivation

✧ be kind and respectful to all of the reposted writers, they all deserve their own love

✧ feel free to send me any asks or questions, or any dirty fantasies you have ;)

✧ p.s: another reason I don't write is because I'm awkward as fuck and I don't exactly know how to sext 😭 this applies to asks ahh

✧ under construction & to be updated with my ultimate recs! meanwhile, reblogs are a good place to start

wondeful writers

@witchywithwhiskey blog format inspired by her if you couldn't tell

@biteofcherry

@buckyalpine

@chxrryhansen

@dolldefiler - deactivated but we will forever remember

@evansbby

@hansensgirl

@hatterbby

@kinanabinks

@pellucid-constellations

@winterarmyy

tags

#to read - things I saw and wanna save to read later, constantly updating nothing ever stays for too long

#doll defiler mwah - rip not dead but deactivated, my attempt to reblog every post created got a decent way but lost some bangers

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comfyrhyme20574 · 7 months ago

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I could totally see Dominic Sherwood play a young bucky while he was with Hydra

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dominic sherwood #marvel #winter soldier #hydra

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trainboom · 1 year ago

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When your taste in men is bipolar like you 🙃🤪😘

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only-luce-the-goose · 2 years ago

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I have no idea what to write about, does anyone have a request, characters/shows I write are hash tagged 😊

#jasper cullen #wyatt lykensen #bucky barnes #jasper hale smut #wednesday #percy hynes white smut #georgie farmer #ajax petropolus #dominic sherwood smut #xavier thorpe smut #and every other character I’ve already written for #if you wanna request someone who isn’t on here you can try your luck and see what happens :)

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lynlee494 · 3 months ago

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*throws up hands*

*leaves the room*

Why is Marvel making it so hard to like them these days. Money over story, and they shot themselves in the foot.

This only adds to my belief that CA:CW was the beginning of their downfall.

Fucking sad we could have had story telling that actually made sense for the characters instead of the bottom line. In the long run, it would have paid off.

Look at the original run of Gane of Thrones. If they hadn't rushed through the story, it would have gone down as one of the greatest shows. Instead it's a joke now with even some of the cast regretting it.

Please. Marvel. Do better, you had it all right there and you fucked it. Now look at you scrambling.

Even What If was affected, completely missing the point of the What If comics.

I still think about her; she who could’ve been the best thing to happen to the MCU and to Steve Roger’s story

Instead I got another Tony Stark film cause they wanted to make money

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel #marvel is broken #don't start crying if James Gunn dominates with DC #only solid story arch was GOTG #I have a feeling the moment he gives me Jason Todd I'm jumping off the Marvel ship #though Bucky Barnes forver #captain america #captain america civil war #The Russo brothers did so good with CA:WS #wtf happened after that #look what they did

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huffelpuff210 · 8 months ago

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My dark masterlist

Biker Bucky Barnes part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Dark alpha Tony stark x dark alpha Steve Rogers x dark alpha Bucky Barnes x omega reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Dark professor Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Summary: professor Steve finds the one he has been searching for

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Soft dark Steve Rogers x soft dark Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: after the reader suffers a traumatic loss Steve and Bucky find the perfect opportunity to help pick up the pieces

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Dark professor Tony Stark x shy reader

Summary: Tony finds the perfect girl for him

Part 1

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sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky

Word Count: 2366

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

1. Lemon Cream Tart (with Pistachio Streusel)

“Oh, baby, yes.”

Mary grunts, annoyed that this is still going on.

Her pleasure waned a while ago, nowhere close to orgasm, and she can’t seem to get it back when she’s being fucked this hard. She’s getting too dry now, just wants him to come and have it be over with.

“Yeah,” she says breathily, canting her hips up against where the guy—Dennis, she thinks it is—is fucking into her. He’s going too fast, pulling out too far,and hardly connecting with her body at all before thrusting again. “Jackrabbit sex,” she calls it in her head.

“Shit, Ugh. M’gonna cum,” MaybeDennis grunts.

It’s nice to finally hear him talk. He’s been virtually silent this entire time and Mary’s whined and squirmed and panted, wishing that the sex was better and that he’d just fucking say something to her—something low and quiet in her ear, something confident and knowing, maybe putting a hand on her neck at the same time as he—

“Fuck!” he shouts, close to her ear. His thrusts start to stutter, losing their rhythm as he gets close. Mary grips him harder, and moans loudly like she’s getting close too. It makes him come, and she tenses her body and matches his sounds of relief with some of her own. It’s performative and easy to fake, she doesn’t overdo it, and she sounds convincing.

MaybeDennis groans and collapses against her, resting his sweaty forehead on her shoulder for a moment before pulling out. He flops over onto his back, chuckling tiredly and removing the condom. Mary watches him get up from the bed and pad into the bathroom. He’s a good looking guy, with just a little too much fat in the midsection for her taste. But then, she knows she’s overly picky, especially considering the state of her own body.

Beyond the open bathroom door, the toilet flushes, and MaybeDennis peeks his head out from the bathroom. “Hey, you mind if I grab a shower before heading out?”

Mary resists the urge to grimace and smiles tightly instead. “Nope. Go ahead.” She’s just grateful he isn’t asking to spend the night. “Towels are in the closet.”

MaybeDennis smiles. “Thanks.”

After he leaves, Mary gets her vibrator out of the bedside drawer and shoves the extra pillow between her legs, arranging the toy so that it sits against her just so. She doesn’t think of MaybeDennis as she gets herself off. The orgasm feels good but leaves her feeling bereft afterwards. She scowls and wipes the tears from her eyes, feeling just a little pathetic.

Like most other nights, she gets up and goes to her apartment’s little kitchen, grabs the vodka from the freezer and pours herself a glass mixed with diet soda. She winces in relief as the first sip goes down. It’s eight o’clock now. She doesn’t have to be up for work until seven, so that leaves at least another six hours to get drunk and have a nice relaxing evening in.

It’s her favorite part of the day.

Bucky’s just left the gym after a really intense workout and is feeling pleasantly worn out and relaxed when he decides to try the new coffee shop on a whim. He’s passed it by for months, and when he finally walks through the front doors he’s pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere. There’s a small dessert case next to the register, which he examines while he waits his turn in line. It’s filled with colorful, glossy, artful little pastries that look almost too pretty to eat—almost. He grins as he thinks about what Steve might want.

“Welcome to Angie’s, what can I get for you?”

The greeting sounds mechanical and anything but chipper, and Bucky’s attention shifts to the woman behind the register. He eyes her up and down, noticing both how pretty she is … and how worn down she looks. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun and her eyes look red-rimmed. They have faint circles under them. Bucky offers her a sympathetic wince. “Late night?”

She blinks at him, unamused. “Yeah, I guess. Do you know what you want?”

“These pastries all look so good,” he says, trying again for friendly. “What would you recommend?”

“Any of ‘em. They’re all good.”

“Are you sure?” he teases.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” she deadpans. “Since I make ‘em.”

Bucky looks back to her, impressed. “Yeah?” He regards her nametag, sees the little handwritten “Mary,” and thinks, aw, that’s cute. He reins in his reaction. Leaning against the counter, he praises, “Well you’re very talented. They all look like little works of art.”

(They’re priced that way, too. $8.99 for a shiny little dome thing? Jesus.)

Mary blushes and smiles a little, not seeming to know what to say to that. But she leans towards Bucky too, receptive to his compliments. She’s not making eye contact, which automatically gets Bucky’s instincts perking up. Not that he has any intention of taking this anywhere. It’s just a little friendly banter, a woman reacting to him in a way that’s naturally satisfying for Bucky. “Thanks,” she says shyly.

“I’m still waiting on that recommendation, Mary,” he says, inserting a bit of flirtation into his tone. She makes eye contact at his use of her name, her lips parting just the barest bit and her pupils expanding. Bucky grins, leaning closer. “Hm?”

“Uh, the … the lemon tart is very good,” she says. “If you like lemon. Not too strong. I balance it out with cream and some pistachio streusel, and the meringue on top of course …”

Now that she’s closer and is talking more readily, Bucky catches the faintest whiff of alcohol coming off of her. He raises an eyebrow and looks at her more closely, noticing how there’s a sheen to her eyes, how she doesn’t look just tired, but unsteady; not just unkempt, but disheveled. He frowns. Is she … is she drunk? “Um,” he hedges, pulling back to stand straighter. “Are you okay, Mary?”

She looks surprised at the question. She glances down to her nametag, then back up at him. “I’m … fine,” she says. “Just tired.”

“You kinda smell like booze,” he whispers, not wanting anyone else to hear. He gives her a searching look. “Are you hung over?” Her eyes widen in alarm and Bucky frowns, concerned. “Are you drunk?”

“I told you that I had a late night,” she hisses. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Bucky gives her a warning look for her tone, and the girl is immediately lowering her eyes. Hmm. Not many people are dominant or submissive the way that Bucky is. It’s considered disordered, so he doesn’t usually play around with testing people this way. But this girl has raised some of his telltale red flags, and he’s curious. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, Honey,” he says gently. Then, inserting a careful amount of authority into his voice and watching how she reacts, he says, “Now: I’d like an almond venti chai latté with stevia and cream, double-frothed, to-go. And why don’t you be a good girl and grab me two of those lemon tarts as well? They look too tempting to resist.” Her eyes flick up to his, some strange mixture of outrage and obedience in them, and Bucky feels like he knows, then. She looks the way a woman looks when you’ve just whispered something filthy in their ear. Bucky raises his eyebrow. “Did you get that, Mary?”

“... Yes,” she breathes, making something deeply innate in Bucky stir. She shakes herself out of her stupor and gets to work with a sharpie and venti-sized paper cup.

“Bucky,” he tells her, as he taps his card to the terminal to pay. “That’s the name you can write down.” Mary looks inordinately pleased at having been given his name (another clue). Bucky nods over to the other end of the counter. “I’ll be waiting over there.”

“Okay,” she says, once again back to not meeting his eyes. She seems embarrassed at having been found out for being drunk at work. Maybe she expects Bucky to scold her. He wishes he could. Instead he goes down to where he said he’d wait, and makes up his mind to ask her about whether she’s on the spectrum.

“Here you go,” she says as she hands over the cup several minutes later. “Bucky” is written in neat, sharp letters on the paper sleeve. She pushes a little white box across the counter at him too. “And the tarts.”

Bucky takes them without comment, eyeing her up and down instead. “Mary?” he says, because subs love hearing their names said aloud. Predictably, her eyes snap right up, alert and bright, like Bucky’s just dangled catnip in front of her nose. He offers her a kind look and delicately ventures, “Have you ever been assessed on the D/s spectrum, Honey?”

“What?”

“The D/s spectrum?” he repeats, keeping his voice low because he’s still not trying to upset her. He can see the moment that her brain clicks over in recognition, because her irises flare and her face slackens in shock. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky reassures gently. “I don’t mean any of this in a negative way. I just think you might be on the spectrum. I’m familiar with the signs. And if you’ve gone undiagnosed all this time … well that’d explain it if you’re struggling, you know.”

“I’m not … I’m not struggling,” she stammers.

Bucky gives her a look. “You don’t think so? When here you are, sleep deprived, drunk at work?”

Embarrassment stains her cheeks within seconds. “How dare you? I am not.”

“Not drunk? Or not submissive?”

She blushes even harder, jaw working. “I’m not,” she repeats stubbornly.

“Oh, Honey,” Bucky says, and he reaches for her hand before she can pull it back. He circles her wrist with his fingers, marveling at how tiny it is in his hand. He squeezes—and proceeds to watch her eyelids flutter like he’s touched someplace far more erogenous than her wrist. “I think you are,” he murmurs sadly.

It takes her a minute, but she gets angry again and yanks her hand away, scowling at him. “You’re very rude,” she says. “You can’t just say stuff like that to people.”

“Can’t I?”

Her lip quivers. She pushes the box further across the counter at him. “Take your stuff and leave.”

“You don’t have to be so defensive,” Bucky says. “It’s okay. I’m diagnosed dominant, you know. I understand what it’s like.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying: I’m not going to judge you. I think you should probably get some help, though. It’s pretty progressive if you don’t address it.”

“You don’t even know me!” she hisses, then looks around the shop nervously when she realizes she’s gotten louder. Nobody seems to be paying attention to them, but she still looks back at Bucky with a furiously embarrassed expression. “You're wrong. I’m normal.”

Bucky knows that arguing with her isn’t going to get him anywhere. Instead, he slips the paper sleeve off of his coffee cup and plucks the sharpie from the edge of Mary’s apron. She gasps at the boldness of it and he shoots her a wink. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says, as he jots down a number. He hands the sleeve back to her. “You can call that number any time, if you wind up needing help.”

“Oh my god, is this some sort of come-on?” She sneers. “Newsflash: I’m not interested in you.”

Bucky nods placidly while imagining putting her over his knee. “No, it’s not my number. It’s a hotline you can call. To talk about this stuff. It’s free and confidential, and it’s manned by people like you and me.”

She regards the cardboard sleeve like it might suddenly have more information written on it. “I don’t—”

“Here.” On a whim, he jots down his cell number as well, this time on the back of his receipt. He slides it over the counter at her but she doesn’t take it. “That’s my number,” he says. “If you want it.”

“I don’t need these. I’m not some friggin’—”

He cuts her off from whatever undoubtedly prejudiced thing she’s about to say. “I’ll be back to give a thorough review of the tarts,” he tells her, taking the box and his coffee cup and stepping away. He heads for the door, satisfied that he’s done the right thing by this woman, even if his dominance is still urging him to do more. “You should have a coffee, yourself,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Have two, even—Strong ones.”

“I hate coffee.”

He hears her scoffing at him as he goes out the door. She’s right, he thinks: he doesn’t know her. It was ballsy to talk to her the way that he did. To presume her situation from just a few reactions. He could’ve been wrong about her …

Glancing back through the café’s window from outside, he sees her making a drink at the espresso machine. There are no other customers waiting in line. Bucky watches as she takes a sip from it, winces in distaste, and takes another sip anyway. She’s obeying his command. She took it as a command. Bucky smiles sadly from out on the sidewalk. He wasn’t wrong about her. Hopefully she’ll call the hotline, get started on the right path to fix whatever’s going wrong in her life. But even though Bucky’s a dom and thus a natural “fixer,” he can’t solve every sad case he comes across. Especially when the person doesn’t want to be helped. He’s done all he can do, and that’s going to have to be enough.

Shaking his head, he turns away and starts off for home, sipping at his—excellently made—latté, and feeling grateful that he got help when he needed it, back when he was young. He’s one of the lucky ones.

He puts Mary the drunk barista from his mind, thinking instead about how he needs to get home to shower and change into something nice. He’s got a date with Steve, after all.

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a-hyperfixating-fanatic · 9 months ago

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Also me: *starts vibrating* oh yeah for sure..what's your favorite part of the movie, because mine is-

Them: oh yeah, the winter soldier is a great movie

Me internally: okay stay calm. It’s been 10 years. You are an adult now. You can have an adult conversation about this without going on a 3 hour rant about why Steve and Bucky are soulmates and how you would die for Bucky Barnes

#it's a really great movie okay #it's not my fault this hyperfixation is dominating my life #my username speaks for itself #also it takes a lot of mental strength and self control to not go on rants #i'm trying here #the struggle is real #Bucky Barnes fandom

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novelmonger · 1 year ago

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Okay, this has been pinging around in my brain all day, and it needs to come out.

Steve Rogers & Fam Play Super Smash Bros!

(Doing this with the gang from my Captain America WIP Take Me In because they're the ones living rent-free in my brain. Yes, yes, it includes two OCs nobody knows yet, but too bad.)

Steve always picks Link because Steve is always right he's always kind of wished he could have a sword to go with his shield. He's also quite fond of the boomerang. Is he a bit slower than some of the others? Sure, but that spin attack is devastating. He wins a respectable percentage of the rounds he plays.

Bucky tends to alternate between Samus and Fox. He likes their speed and their long-ranged attacks, and is particularly good at using Fox's force field and Samus' bombs at just the right time. Steve usually goes after everyone else rather than Bucky, but Bucky doesn't hesitate to take advantage of this and kill Steve without mercy. Steve is taken by surprise every time, and Bucky just smirks to himself. But if they're doing a team battle, and someone lets Steve and Bucky team up? They win every time.

Sam likes to switch around and play various characters, but as a matter of principle he has to begin and end each play session as Captain Falcon, for obvious reasons. And he's actually pretty good with him, especially against slower characters like Link. Whether he's winning or not, he always tries to hit the Taunt button right at the end of the match to "show your moves!"

Sharon favors Kirby. She likes being able to swallow the other characters and steal their abilities to use against them. She also likes to do the Down+B stone smash on Steve and say, "I think I have a crush on you!" while everyone groans. (Steve won't admit it even to her, but he thinks it's kind of hot.) With Kirby, Sharon is fast and ruthless, though she has a weakness for compulsively grabbing and throwing items even when it would be better to focus on just fighting.

The first time they invited Leyla to play, she picked Jigglypuff. While the others were laughing at how uncharacteristic that choice seemed and how they were going to decimate her, Sam felt a creeping sense of dread. Sure enough, Leyla obliterated them all, wearing a serene smile the entire time. After leaving everyone else in the dust five times in a row, Leyla was henceforth banned from using Jigglypuff. Her backup choice is usually Mario or Ness, which puts her on a more even playing field with the others.

Jake spent a year just watching them play, shaking his head vehemently any time someone asked him if he wanted to try, even when they assured him he could play on Daddy's team. But he always liked watching, sitting in a corner of the couch and hugging a pillow to his chest, laughing and cheering along with everyone else. Finally, after a year of observation, he announced one day that he wanted to try. He picked Yoshi, and played on a team with Steve, against Sam and Bucky. The "Mean Green Fighting Machine" (Yoshi and Link) won. They played a few more team battles, and then the first time Jake played in a free-for-all round, he won. Even though he hadn't touched a controller before then, he played like he'd been doing it his entire life. He likes team battles best, especially if his team can be green.

also they play timed battles because that's the only way to go don't @ me

#super smash bros #captain america #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sharon carter #leyla tailor (oc)#jake rogers (oc)#i'm just going with the original ssb because it's what i'm most familiar with #we never had a gamecube so never had melee #and we didn't get the wii (and thus brawl) until my upper teens #so the part of my life where i had the most free time to pummel my siblings into the dust was dominated by the original ssb #i know they'd probably be playing brawl or ultimate but just run with me here

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lanabuckybarnes · 5 months ago

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| A Door Away |

Minors DNI 18+

2 weeks. It’s been 2 weeks of biological warfare in the sense of your heat. When he met up with you in the hall, Bucky knew with just with a glance just how fucked he was, and he needed it badly

✧Pairing✧ Alpha!MilitaryVet!Bucky x Omega!Fem!Reader

✧Warnings✧ Alpha!Bucky, Pining, Fluff, Buck being a cutie, Wet dreams, Oral (M), Rut, Heat, A/B/O Themes, Dirty Talk, Petnames [Omega, Pretty Girl, Baby, Princess], Dirty talk, Confessions - Any other warnings let me know

✧Word Count✧ 3.7k

✧Events✧ Hot Bucky Summer | WEEK 2 | “What should I call you? | Master, Alpha, Pet | @buckybarnesevents

Buckys-wintersoldier 2K followers Bingo | Square: Confessions in a weird situation | @buckys-wintersoldier

James Bucky Barnes was aloof. He kept to himself most of the time, rarely speaking beyond a hello or a soft ‘how are you?’ You had to admit that there was something about the man that intrigued you. Was it his cold gaze that seemed to melt whenever he looked at you, those rippling arms and toned body you’d caught a glimpse of through your peephole one warm day. Or maybe it was the sweet gentle nature he hid behind those layers of hardened emotions. You can always remember the first time you met your neighbour face to face. He held a basket in his hand filled to the brim with household items that you could easily have forgotten with a big move.

“Oh hi” you chirped when you noticed that you’d been taking in the man for a little too long. His scent captivates you, keeping you glued to your doormat. A rich vanilla permeating your nostrils, it was one of the nicest scents you’d encountered around your time with alphas.

He cleared his throat, the tip of his nose and ears darkening to a deep pink.

“My sister…I mentioned to her I had a new neighbour and she made this…for you” his voice dropped off at the end of the sentence, his deep blue eyes unable to hold your own for more than a minute. He was peculiar for an Alpha, most of them reeked of arrogance, treating their subordinates like gum on the sole of their shoe. But here he was, a basket stretched out to you and his eyes pinned to his shoes.

You’d been staring again.

A few months into living in the new apartment, everything was finally settled and you were settling into your little home just great. Bucky helped an awful lot which surprised you beyond belief. When your AC broke and your landlord wouldn’t pick up your calls James knocked on your door, tools in hand. He had it fixed in under an hour.

The same with your shower, sink and that time you bought a bigger bed, determined you could do it yourself only to knock on James’ door with your tail tucked between your legs.

After an offer of his favourite dish and beer, he found it hard to keep the ‘annoyed’ scowl on his face. You were just too cute looking up at him like that, with wide puppy dog eyes, looking so defeated. His animal brain lived for the domestic life you two had accidentally created.

“Today was nice Buck” You turned in his embrace to lean into his side a little more, your legs tucked under you and your face inches away from his. The swans in the water splashed around, courting each other with their pretty dances.

“I’m glad you liked it” he let his hand, the metal one that he’d lost while serving, cup your cheek, the plates clicking softly as he soothed his thumb over the bone.

His eyes dropped to the perfect bow of your lips, how close they were to his. It would take only a slight movement to connect them, swallowing your soft sounds.

“You don’t gotta stare,” you teased. He lurched forward, capturing your lips in a tight embrace, his tongue pressing against your mouth looking for entry which you gladly granted.

There was no fight for dominance in the kiss, your tongues dancing instead. His lungs stung with lack of oxygen but he didn't want to pull away, he couldn’t, your soft floral scent mixing with the dewy air keeping him trapped. When it became too much you parted, his lip captured by your teeth.

There was something so primal in your eyes, a longing that had him twitching inside his jeans in anticipation.

“James” his name came out of your mouth as a breathy whimper, almost like it was excruciating to say his name. The air around you both changed into something humid, biting at him, rearing its erogenous head.

He didn’t even notice the way your hand had drifted down, his breath catching in his throat as you rubbed your palm over him.

“Need you James” you whispered so sweetly in his ear, leaving soft kisses down his neck, completely missing his scent gland. The rhythmic clanks of his belt sounded in his ears and you pulled back with a victorious sound.

You looked like an angel as you pulled him from his briefs, pumping his length until precum beaded at the tip. Your eyes never left his as you sunk, your tongue rolling out to taste him.

You were so close he could feel your hot breath against his tip, your pink muscle drawing ever closer—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Bucky’s eyes shot open. His chest heaving against his mattress euphoria, evidence of his actions that he’d just imagined soaked his underwear and sheets.

But the dream was more than just a run-of-the-mill thing. It only meant one thing for Bucky. His rut.

To say you were growing concerned for James was an understatement. For over two weeks now you hadn't seen him, hadn’t heard a thing from him at all. It was like he just vanished. It was when he didn’t show up for your weekly meal together that it reached its boiling point.

You couldn’t even eat the food you prepared as you sat, staring blankly at the spot James would usually sit, letting you drag on and on about your day with a soft smile or a little comment here and there. Your heart always fluttered when he did that, even if it was just a small hum it sent butterflies flapping about aimlessly in your stomach.

You went to bed in a sour mood, hangry and entirely terrified for your friend.

You tossed and turned in dreamless slumber, any slight sound shocking you awake, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t force yourself into deeper rest.

The clock on your bedside table read 3am when you heard a bang in the hallway, a curse following it. You slipped out from under the covers and grabbed the first thing that came into your hand, your dad’s baseball bat he gave to you for good luck—and for a scenario just like this one.

You crept silently down your hall to the front door, avoiding each creaky floorboard that Bucky promised to fix sometime last week. Peaking through the peephole you found the very man that had made your life a living pain for the past few weeks.

You swung your door open quickly, meeting the wild eyes of James, anger bubbling in your chest fighting with the concern you also felt. The concern won by a slim margin.

“James” you whispered, inspecting his body with your eyes. His hair was a tousled mess, and his pale blue shirt was wrinkled. Still the same man and with no sign of injury, except the pained expression across his face.

“Bucky. Call me Bucky” he forced a smile but he couldn’t hide the low rumblings of a growl in his broad chest. His brain short-circuited at the way your sweet voice sounded. It brought him right back into his bed and into that dream. He couldn’t deal with that and he sure as hell wouldn’t force you to either. He wasn’t that kind of alpha.

Then your nose picked up on something in the air around you, that vanilla smell that Bucky had, it swirled with something much more fruity, something suggestive that had your omega brain wrestling with your logical human side.

His rut.

That’s where he was.

His voice rasped as he spoke, lying dormant for too long but your mind was far too occupied with more nefarious thoughts. You couldn’t help but imagine him, legs spread wide on a couch, his naked chest blushed pink, his mouth agape as strangled moans, growls, any sound of pleasure falling from him. His hips fucking up into his hand, or one of those silicone pussy’s you’d seen in porn.

Would he be thinking of you while he called out for his omega?

“Hello?” You shook out of your trance, realising that you’d been staring at Bucky the whole time. You shot him an awkward smile, confusing him further.

“Bye.”

Slam. Your door shook on its hinges as you slid down the other end of it.

Bye? Why the fuck did you say that? You let your head fall backwards, sucking in some much-needed fresh air. Your thighs clenched, your hand wandering between your legs to your soaked panties. And that was only because of his smell.

Bucky was no better, the remains of his rut flaring up at the sight of you, in that tank and panties. You hadn’t anticipated anyone and opened the door in a panic, completely forgetting about your half-naked look. Bucky grunted, mumbling under his breath about how ridiculous he was being. He threw his keys into the bowl and stripped off his clothes, heading straight for the shower. If he left it any longer he didn’t want to think of the ways he’d ruin your tiny body.

His cock throbbed at the notion. God he hated his brain sometimes.

You shot out of bed in a panic at the first twinge. It couldn’t be happening, you hadn’t had one in months. The second twinge had your legs like jelly, your hands slapping onto the nearest surface.

Oh, it was happening, and you had only a little time to prepare.

Throwing on a pair of sweats and quickly doing your teeth you frantically made your way to the car park to grab your car, almost speeding to the shop just so you could be at home in time.

You raided the store of all its protein products and energy drinks. The bags almost burst at the seam as you carried them to the elevator. Your fingers ached and your body cried out. Come on it won’t be that much longer, you reassured that animalistic part of your brain.

Stepping out onto your floor you struggled down the carpeted hall, the bags feeling heavier and heavier. Thankfully Bucky would be at work, you didn’t have any chance of bumping into him.

You fished for your keys in your pocket, grasping them tightly before fumbling with them.

“Need a hand?” Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh yesss. A range of emotions crossed your brain at his deep voice, your logical brain cursing while your omega brain reeled.

Yes. you need a hand, let the alpha know what’s wrong. Your animal brain demanded.

Don’t be fucking stupid, he’s your neighbour and he doesn’t even like you. You’re wanting us to wriggle our ass in his face and beg to be bred, yeah I’m sure he wouldn’t call the cops.

It wasn’t unheard of for omegas to ask alphas for help during their heat, kind of like a friends-with-benefits scenario. But you’d be damned if you were asking Bucky for help. You could get a bit…passionate about sex and it doubled during your heat, you liked Bucky too much to let him bear witness to that, your mind plaguing you with thoughts of him hightailing it and running at the first sight of you.

You’d settle with your little knotted friend that rested neatly in your drawer.

After politely declining Bucky’s offer you for straight to work.

Night drew closer, your nest established on your floor, perfectly poised just the way you like it. Energy drinks and your trusty silicone dildo lay off to the side.

You took your time showering, doing your entire routine. Drying yourself off before lathering your body in lotion, you didn’t even bother to put on some clothing, instead settling yourself into the nest in a foetal position.

Your hips rolled into the air, soft whimpers falling from you at around 2am. Without hesitation you grabbed the rubber cock, squirting some lube on it and running it through your soaked slit. You pushed it in slowly until the knot pressed against your entrance, your pussy not quite ready yet but with the way your wetness rolled out of your body, it wouldn’t be too long.

Bucky could hear your whimpering from the next apartment, your scent wafting through his house and straight into his nostrils. His cock twitched at your soft sounds, your muffled pleading for an Alpha to fill you up.

His mind wandered, were you using your fingers to get off or one of those cocks he knew companies made to exploit little omega’s like you.

“Mmm fuck Alpha hurts so much need your pups”

God it was going to be a long night.

The longer you went on the worse Bucky got, his cock dribbling all over his tight briefs, his skin glistening with a layer of sweat. He sat on the side of his bed, his head leaning against the wall, listening to you please yourself.

2 weeks later your heat was showing no signs of subsiding. Your supplies from your first run had gone long ago and you had to ask your friend to grab you some more. You’d never felt a heat like this, usually they’d last a couple of days and that would be that but you were still riding your dildo a week later.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Alpha please so good” you slurred, a flurry of whimpers slipping out of your mouth as you rocked your hips back and forth, the head of the dildo brushing against your sweet spot. Your pussy gushing more slick around the plastic, smearing all over your thighs and onto the blankets of your nest.

It just wasn’t cutting it anymore. Your orgasms shook through you but you were left unsatisfied and riding the rubber cock desperately. Trying to seek that one good, back arching blissful climax that had you sinking into your sheets in exhaustion.

But it never came.

“Oh fuck Alpha gimme that fucking knot mmmm need your knot so bad, need you to breed me full” your moans mixed with the sloshing of your cunt, your lips stretching around the knot as it sunk into you repeatedly with a sloppy sound, your fingers frantically strumming your clit for anything. You could feel the coils in your stomach tighten almost painfully but no matter what you did they just wouldn’t snap.

“Fuckkkkk” You stopped your movements, sitting on the dildo and catching your breath. You were at a loss, you didn’t know what to do, if you didn’t cum you were going to drive yourself insane but no matter how hard you fucked yourself it just wouldn’t make anything happen.

You were so desperate, so fucking needy. You needed an Alpha.

The dildo fell out of you with a pop as you stood on shaky legs, each step towards your bedside cabinet sending pleasured shocks up your spine. You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your contacts until you reached the one you needed.

‘Bucky 🤭🩵’

For a second you hovered over the call button, unsure if you should do it. But need prevailed and the ringing brought you back to reality.

“Hello?”

You almost moaned pathetically down the phone at the sound of his voice, thick with sleep deprivation and so fucking husky.

“B-Bucky…” you hadn’t thought this far, your brain was so fogged with need that you didn’t even stop to think about how you’d ask him for help. Bucky’s voice at the end of the line was quick to respond. You didn’t need to tell him a thing he could hear just how much you struggled.

“I’ll be over in 5”

You could’ve cum on the spot, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you bit your lip and clenched your thighs. You looked around your room, a mess of blankets and pillows arranged in a circle on your floor and in the centre, your dildo. You sunk to the floor, no longer able to stand as the waves were just too much. The hardwood hurt your hands and knees as you crawled into the centre of your nest but you couldn’t care.

You were finally getting help and you couldn’t have been happier with who it was.

Your cheek smooshed against one of the pillows as you lay waiting, your hips grinding into the air subconsciously. You were so wrapped up in your trance that you failed to hear the front door opening or the soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Look at you pretty ‘mega” Bucky drawled from behind you, his slate blue eyes boring into your core. A fresh wave of slick trickled from you at the sight of him, his smell infecting the air in a way that had you gulping down oxygen like you were starved of it.

You watched as he slipped his shirt over his head, dog tags jingling before resting on his sternum, his metal hand drifting down to unbuckle his belt. You took him in like he was a cold glass of water on a boiling hot day. He was the magic medicine to your ailment.

He wasted no time in pushing his jeans and briefs to the floor, his thick cock slapping against washboard abs. He was so much bigger than the toy you relied on, your brain fought with itself, wondering if you could even take a cock that size.

You’d come this far.

“How’d you want it pretty girl? Want me to fuck you like you are just now, on your hands and knees presented to me like a little slut. Maybe you want me to flip you over and pound you, let you watch me as I hit every little inch of that hot ‘mega cunt” he spoke, words dripping with lust.

“I don’t care please Alpha” You slipped, pushing your ass back to him, waving it enticingly as more slick dripped from your folds. You needed it now, none of the teasing.

“Alpha?” He questioned with a teasing smirk, sinking to his knees behind you and flipping you with ease onto your back.

Fuck looked beautiful all fucked out, your face wet with frustrated tears, your pupils so dilated you could barely see the colour. Your chest heaving causing your tits to bounce and that sopping pussy, pathetically clenching around nothing, silently begging for him to fill you, make you full with him and only him.

“What should I call you?” You blinked up at him, blushing lightly despite the fact you lay spread wide for him. You’d never called someone Alpha before, it just fell from your mouth in bliss. Insecurity bubbled up at the thought of maybe Bucky not wanting to be your Alpha, even for just a short period.

Your worries were all squashed when he lined his fat head up with your core, sinking fully in a single thrust.

“Alpha’s fine baby, now lemme fuck that omega brain dumb alright. You don’t gotta think anymore, your alpha will do that for you.”

Dominance radiated off him. The kind that made you want to submit, roll your head back and present your neck for him to mark, letting him claim you.

He slid out slowly, letting you feel every inch, every vein of his length until just his head remained buried inside you before he thrust forward again, his tip kissing your cervix.

His thrusts picked up at the sound of your heavenly sounds, your body arching up to meet him, to be as close to him as possible.

“Ohh fuck ‘mega, that pussy ain’t been fucked good in a long time huh, she’s sucking me back in, such greedy little cunt…so fucking tight…that’s alright though, your alpha’s got you now, won’t let that pussy go unsatisfied again” Bucky fell to his elbows, his nose bumping yours as you shared each other's air. Your legs spread underneath him as his hips pushed your thighs open further.

You couldn’t think. he was everywhere. A hand in your hair, his hot breath fanning over your face and neck, his dick filling you up. You were ruined for any other Alpha you just knew.

Sobs bounced off the walls, sounds you’d never heard before falling from your mouth. Your hands clung to him, wrapping around his back, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

Fuck you were so close, those coils tightening deep in your belly again, hot spikes of pleasure rolling up your spine, your cunt spewing your essence around him.

“Fuck ‘mega my fucking knots swelling already ohhh shit, my knot ain’t swelled this fast before” he laughed between guttural grunts, his teeth nipping your jawline.

“Mmmm Alpha” you heave, your pussy clenching him tightly.

“Gonna cum baby? Gonna squirt around my fucking knot yeah? Oh fuck oh shit come on sweet omega, cum on my fucking dick.”

Your world went white when the swollen base of his cock pushed into you, stretching you wide, your preen stuck in your throat as your body convulsed with such an intense orgasm. Bucky rammed his whole weight into you a few more times before following suit, dumping his huge load inside your ruined cunt.

You don’t know when he rolled you over, his arms wrapping around you, your leg hooked over his hip. Your soft whines were the only indication that you hadn’t passed out, along with the look of sheer unbridled joy melting over your features. The softness and domestic nature of it all grounded Bucky. He didn’t feel regret like he thought he would, or guilt that he’d corrupted you

He felt at home.

“You did so good for me, pretty girl, don’t know anyone that’s taken my dick so good. Such a pretty little ‘mega” he praised, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Love you alpha” You forced despite your tongue feeling like lead in your mouth.

“I love you too princess, now get some rest alright? I’ll be here when you get up, then I’ll make you feel nice and good again.”

Bucky’s warm embrace and strong scent lulled you to sleep. A deep satisfied slumber that you hadn’t felt for months, a smile on your face.

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drabblesandsnippets · 6 months ago

Text

The Bet

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “Louder, let everyone hear you.” | [Screaming/Noisy Sex | Gangbang | Exhibiotionism] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) Bucky’s girlfriend thinks she can stay quiet during sex - Bucky’s more than happy to prove her wrong.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Fluff. Established relationship. Praise. Brief mention of insecurities. Dirty talk. Domination. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Squirting. (Unprotected) PiV.

---------------------------

“Wait,” Bucky says, reaching for the remote yet again. “Why does she even care? I thought she hated him.”

Bucky and his girlfriend are cuddling on their king-sized bed, enjoying another quiet night at home - something their friends like to tease them about, but they’ll never change. Home is where all their favorite things are.

The moment Bucky pauses the show - for what feels like the hundredth time since they started the episode - she buries her face against his chest, her groan slightly muffled by his shirt.

Bucky’s laughter gently shakes her body as he asks, “What? I’m trying to understand!”

She picks her head up to glare at him, only slightly frustrated, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You’d understand if we started from the beginning instead!”

She’s been trying to get him to watch her favorite show for months now, and when he randomly suggested they watch the latest episode tonight, she wasn’t going to argue.

She’s regretting that now.

For someone as intelligent as Bucky, he’s oblivious to the inner workings of TV drama.

Bucky blinks slowly at her response, his eyes wide like she just said they should’ve gone to Sam’s impromptu karaoke party. And then he lets out an incredulous laugh, quick to point out, “There are ten seasons of this show! By the time we get caught up, there will be at least five more.”

Her mouth opens in surprise, and she pushes herself up, one hand on his stomach, her other hand moving to her chest like he’s just wounded her.

“First of all, there are six seasons.” Bucky playfully groans in response, the pout on her face telling him exactly where she’s going with this. “And even if there were ten seasons, you wouldn’t want to watch them with me?”

“Okay.” Bucky’s laughter reaches his eyes as he tosses the remote to the side - it’s clear he’s not going to be pressing play anytime soon.

He looks adoringly at his girlfriend as he sits up with her, his gaze never wavering. “Doll. Sweetheart. Love of my life. I’d enjoy watching paint dry with you.”

Her smile almost breaks through, but she holds back, patiently waiting for him to continue. He’s either about to make too much sense, or he’s about to dig the hole deeper.

After a soft, dramatic sigh, he gently tells her, “But, we haven’t even gotten through this episode, and it’s already been over an hour.”

The moment he says it, he has to hold back his laughter, her response exactly what he’s expecting.

Her mouth drops open again, and she laughs at the ridiculous notion that she’s to blame for their time-management issues.

With a quick shake of her head, and resisting the urge to poke him, she quickly points out, “You keep pausing to ask questions!”

The moment the words are out of her mouth, Bucky seems almost too eager to remind her of several moments that had nothing to do with him. Sure, he’s partly to blame, but most of the interruptions had nothing to do with him.

Like during the first five minutes when she kept getting up because she forgot something. Or when she had to search a familiar looking actor.

“Or,” Bucky continues, his tone gentle, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself. “When you swore you’d heard that one song before-.”

She cuts Bucky off before he can finish the last thought, shoving one of the pillows in his face, his hands quickly deflecting it.

“I get it!” she says, laughing with him as he pulls the pillow away from her before she can attempt to hit him with it again.

His slightly raised eyebrow tells her he’s waiting to see if she’s going to try to defend herself.

“Fine,” she relents, giving him another exaggerated pout that makes him grin. “I guess no marathons for us then.”

She glances at the TV where the episode is still paused before turning her attention back to Bucky, her own grin growing. “At least,” she starts, her eyebrow raising suggestively. “No marathons of the TV variety.”

Bucky laughs, a surge of arousal rushing over him at the mere suggestion, but has to shake his head, the disappointment clear on his face.

With a pointed look, he reminds her, “Sam’s down the hall.”

Sam materialized on their doorstep a couple of days ago to stake claim to their guestroom once again, this time while in the city for a friend’s birthday.

There hadn’t been any objections at the time - and there aren’t any now, as far as Bucky’s concerned.

He really doesn’t care if Sam hears them having sex. It’s not like Bucky’s never overheard him before. But Bucky knows his girlfriend. If she thinks Sam might have heard her, it’ll take her weeks before she’ll be able to be in the same room as him without turning red.

She’s not thinking about any of that, though.

It’s been a few days since there’s even been an opportunity for them to get lost in each other, and she doesn’t want to waste this one.

With a smile and a slight shrug, she simply says, “So? I can be quiet.”

Bucky’s bark of laughter rings out, and she narrows her eyes at him. Before she can even think about it, he quickly grabs the pillow still sitting between them so she can’t throw it at him and instead flings it to the side, making her laugh.

“What?” she asks, still feeling confident in her words. “I can be!”

“No,” Bucky says, trying to hold back his laughter as he shakes his head at her. The simple refusal of her statement makes her lips part in a surprised exhale, but before she can make an argument, he adds, “You are entirely incapable of being quiet, doll.”

He can’t help but lean just a bit closer to whisper, “Especially with me.”

That feels like a challenge to her. And even though she knows Bucky is probably right, she can’t just give in. She’s just as stubborn as he is, and she knows exactly how to play this.

With a quick flick of her tongue to wet her lips, she leans towards him, their mouths almost close enough to touch, and asks, “Wanna bet?”

Her question has the desired effect, causing Bucky’s stomach to flutter with a rush of excitement. She’s a strong, confident, capable woman, and there’s almost nothing she can’t do, especially once she puts her mind to it.

But, there’s not a doubt in his mind that he’ll have her screaming by the end of the night.

Bucky’s hand reaches out to brush a few strands of hair away from her face, his eyes glancing at her mouth as he starts to close the short distance.

Her hope to feel his lips on hers fades quickly, though, Bucky pausing to grin at her, needing to set the terms of their deal first.

“When you lose, we’re finally getting that swing.”

For the briefest of moments, she hesitates. The idea of a sex swing excites her, and it’s something they’ve been discussing for months - even going so far as to choose their favorite - but the intimidating feeling of being on display like that has never faded.

Bucky’s only ever made her feel beautiful, and sexy, and desirable, but that doesn’t mean he can completely erase decades' worth of insecurities.

Bucky doesn’t rush her, not with something like this. He’ll give her all the time in the world to decide if this is a bet she’s willing to take. And if she decides she’s not ready, then he’ll accept that without hesitation, no matter how much he wants her to say yes.

The anticipation is short lived though, because a smile spreads across her face and before she even says, “deal” he’s already hard, imagining how incredible she’ll look suspended and tied up for him, completely at his mercy.

There are so many possibilities, and the sooner he wins, the sooner he gets to make them all a reality.

Her lashes flutter when Bucky’s hand moves along her scalp, his fingers sliding through her hair to softly grip the strands. She allows him tilt her head back, putting her in the perfect position for him to finally kiss her, and she tries to remain patient.

It doesn’t matter, though, because after just a soft brush of his lips against hers, he’s pulling away again, the grin on his face causing her to let out a frustrated sigh.

As much as Bucky wants to just jump right into this with her, the faint taste of her on his lips making his cock twitch, he’s taking this bet seriously.

He meets her gaze, holding her head steady, and says, “We gotta set some ground rules first.”

She breathes heavily but doesn’t move, waiting for him to continue, wanting this just as much as he does.

“No covering your mouth,” he tells her, increasing the hold of her hair, making her gasp softly.

Bucky doesn’t miss the way her thighs tense with arousal, and he groans softly, pulling her closer so his lips brush across the corner of her mouth. “That includes no biting me.”

She lets out a soft exhale of a laugh, but doesn’t object, no matter how much she enjoys sinking her teeth into him when he’s fucking her hard.

And considering this bet and what’s at stake here, there are no plans to go slow tonight.

With a slight nod of her head, his fingers limiting her movement, she agrees, but she’s unable to stop herself from still being a bit of a brat. “Is that all?”

Bucky pulls back, narrowing his eyes at her, his breathing slowing down as he fights the urge to smile. He loves when she pushes back - it’s her way of telling him not to go easy on her.

“No,” he answers her, his vibranium hand suddenly coming up to wrap around her throat.

The brief flash of surprise that crosses her face is quickly replaced by a look of pure desire, her trust in him radiating off of her. It encourages him to keep going, his need for her reaching new heights.

“You’re also not allowed to tell me to stop just because you can’t be quiet.”

Her body tingles with pleasure, just like it always does when he takes charge, and she has to bite back a moan as the ache between her thighs intensifies.

She’s playing with fire, but all it does is excite her, even as she briefly wonders if she has an ounce of a chance of winning this bet.

The moment he asks if she agrees to the terms, she answers without hesitation, telling him, “Yes.”

With a cheeky grin, she adds, “And I look forward to winning.”

That’s all Bucky needs to hear and he pulls her against him, crashing his mouth against hers, his tongue immediately demanding entrance.

With his hand around her throat and his fingers gripping her hair, he keeps her in place so he can kiss her, leaving her breathless and desperate for more.

As much as Bucky enjoys taking his time with her, he’s on a mission tonight.

There’s a primal urge to claim her, to prove how quickly he can make her lose control. And there’s no doubt that he’s going to win this bet.

Within just a couple minutes, Bucky has her naked and writhing underneath him, her head resting on a pillow.

His lips follow a slow trail from her neck to her breasts, taking a moment to focus on her sensitive nipples, giving them both the attention they deserve, his ears trained on the soft noises of pleasure already leaving her.

Her hands never leave his body, needing something to hold onto to keep her focus, her fingers gently tugging at his hair while her other hand grabs at his shoulder, pressing against the defined muscle.

She’s already having to force herself to take slow, deep breaths, the occasional shift of hips causing his hard cock to tease along her wetness, making her want to beg for more.

She remains as quiet as possible though, her eyes drifting closed as Bucky’s mouth travels lower, taking his time to place tender kisses all over her soft stomach, reminding her how much he loves every single inch of her.

He doesn’t even care that she’s not looking at him right now. He’s just grateful for the way she gives herself to him, trusting him to treat her like she deserves.

With one last glance up, Bucky eagerly settles between her thighs, the smell of her filling his nostrils, making his mouth water.

The soft groan that leaves him makes her hips twitch, and he pauses for a second to take her in, both hands coming up to keep her spread wide for him.

She’s already so wet, the sight of her swollen clit just begging to be licked, and he can’t wait to hear her come apart for him.

The first slow swipe of his tongue along her slit causes her body to tense, the sudden sensation making her breath hitch, almost making her forget all about the bet.

Bucky learned her body so quickly when they first became intimate, and now, the familiar swirl of his tongue around her clit immediately makes her back arch, a moan getting trapped in her throat.

He loves the taste of her, happy to spend as much time between her thighs as she lets him, and even though that’s not what tonight is about, he still takes a moment to appreciate the delicious meal she’s offering him.

He alternates between long licks, and fucking her with his tongue, grinding his soft beard against her pussy to get as deep as he can, as if starved for more of her.

Despite Bucky’s own noises of pleasure getting louder, hers remain low, and it’s not long before the desire to hear her scream builds inside of him again.

Without warning, his mouth suddenly closes over her clit, his tongue resuming the perfect rhythm against the bundle of nerves and his hands grips her thighs, holding her in place.

She cuts off the harsh gasp that spills out of her, and her fingers tighten their grip on his hair as her hips move against his mouth, chasing her pleasure.

Despite half her focus on keeping her sounds under control, he’s still able to quickly bring her to the edge, and her other hand grips the bedsheet as the tension suddenly snaps.

As much as it turns Bucky on to watch her and feel her come for him, there’s something wrong about not hearing her as she loses control.

He refuses to pull away though, his mouth working her through her orgasm, his hands holding her, letting her ride out the waves. His own hips grinding against the mattress, his cock hard and heavy, aching for relief.

When she becomes too sensitive, he takes pity on her and quickly kisses back up her body, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

Her need for him is too overwhelming though, and within seconds, she meets him in a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue.

She doesn’t allow herself to get lost in the moment for too long, her body craving more, and she reaches between them, her fingers wrapping around his thick cock, ready to remind him that she still has a chance of winning this bet.

Bucky welcomes her touch, his hips thrusting forward, groaning against her mouth.

She takes advantage of his pleasure-filled state, rubbing her thumb across the head of his cock, the tip slick with his arousal, and proudly states, “I told you I could be quiet.”

The laugh he makes in return sends a shiver down her back, and she can barely quiet the soft squeak as he pulls her hand away, his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist.

He’s always careful not to cause her any real discomfort, but the look he gives her still makes her freeze, wondering what she’s gotten herself into.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bucky chuckles, slowly pinning her hands over her head as he starts to grind his cock against her. “We’re barely getting started.”

Her body tenses in anticipation, expecting him to thrust inside of her, but he doesn’t change his pace, his eyes taking in how beautiful she looks, all desperate and needy, her skin flushed.

Even after all this time with him, she’s still not used to all the attention he gives her, and she’s grateful that he allows her to move with him.

Each shift of her hips makes her breath quicken just a bit more, the length of his cock sliding along her clit, and she’s pretty sure she could come just like this.

The thought of it makes her body pulse with arousal, and she quickly nods her head, breathing quickly. “Please,” she whispers, her fingers flexing under his hold.

He grins down at her, tightening his grip slightly, keeping the same pace, watching her fight between completely giving in and trying to silence her noises.

Bucky wants the noises. He needs them. He needs to hear her whines and moans and cries as he brings her pleasure.

She’s clearly determined to win this, but so is he. And the moment he feels her almost reaching the edge, he suddenly stops, pulling his hips out of reach of her.

She has no idea how, but she manages to keep the whine of “no” down, her voice almost betraying her. Bucky’s soft laughter helps keep her focused, though, and she glares at him, breathing heavily.

Her mouth opens in protest, but before she can even think of how to react, his vibranium hand closes around her throat, pushing her down against the bed.

“Oh god,” is all she can say, her voice trembling as she tries to mentally prepare herself for whatever Bucky has planned.

He knows her too well though, and the moment he moves, she almost loses the bet.

His right hand slides between her thighs, and in one smooth motion, he fills her with two fingers, curling them inside of her to press against her front wall.

She bites her lip hard enough to almost draw blood, but she’s able to dampen her cry of pleasure as she throws her head back, both hands now gripping the sheet.

Bucky gives her no time to gather her composure before he starts moving, the heel of his hand rubbing hard against her clit while his fingers stroke over her g-spot.

She may not be speaking, but her body is talking, the sounds of her wetness filling the air. He growls his approval and leans over her, his metal fingers twitching against her throat.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs, watching her as he quickly works her towards another orgasm. “Your pussy’s talking to me, doll. Just begging for more.”

She pulls her lips inward between her teeth, biting down as she breathes heavily through her nose, the pleasure starting to make it harder to focus.

His words aren’t making it any easier, but she’s grateful that he doesn’t make her look at him, her eyes currently shut tight, her head pressing into the pillow underneath her.

There’s something so intoxicating to Bucky about being in charge of her pleasure, and he knows he’ll never get enough of her.

For just a moment, he forgets about the bet, his eyes taking in the way she writhes underneath his touch, everything about her encouraging him to keep going. Her back arching, her legs spread, hips thrusting in time with his hand as he fucks her deep and hard.

Except, she’s still keeping her noises to a minimum. Even as she starts to breathe quicker, the gasps turning to shuddering sighs, she manages to somehow keep it all under control.

And it’s starting to get under Bucky’s skin. He can’t be a gracious loser when it comes to this.

That primal feeling resurfaces in Bucky, the urge to take her hard and fast igniting inside of him. But, first, he needs to make her come again.

He quickly moves his left hand down her body, pressing hard against her clit, giving him the ability to fuck her harder with his fingers.

Her eyes roll back in her head, and she nearly screams, his fingers deep inside of her, curled and rubbing hard against the spongy tissue.

She can feel the pressure building, and she grabs her legs, her hands wrapping around her ankles to keep her spread wide for Bucky.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, just as breathless as she is, his body humming with pleasure. “Can feel you, sweetheart,” he moans, grinding harder against her clit, knowing exactly what she needs to get over the edge. “Doing so good for me. Gonna come all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

She quickly nods her head, but she can’t trust herself to speak. She can barely breathe anyway as her fingers dig into her ankles, the slight pain giving her something to focus on, reminding her of the stakes here.

She’s so overwhelmed, and he hasn’t even fucked her with his cock yet. She has no idea how she’s going to win this bet.

She can’t think about that right now though, because her entire body suddenly tenses, and she squirts, coating his hand with her juices.

She barely hears Bucky’s groan of approval, but his words of praise quickly flood her brain, and she comes for him, using every bit of energy to not cry out.

“Good girl. Fuck, look at you,” his deep voice adds to the pleasure still washing over her and she lets go of her ankles to reach out for Bucky, needing him.

He quickly joins her, resting some of his weight on top of her, letting her cling to him as her body shudders, her hips riding his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs against her neck, his fingers buried deep inside of her, savoring the way her pussy pulses with each wave of pleasure. “I think I should I make you come again, just like this.”

He’s only half-serious, his cock aching to be inside of her.

Her expected whine makes him laugh, and he curls his fingers inside of her again, easily finding that spot that makes her tremble.

She’s still sensitive from her orgasm, but her mind is starting to clear, and she immediately shakes her head. “Absolutely not.” Another breathy moan, and then, “I think you should let me suck your cock.”

Bucky groans, allowing himself to briefly consider it, but kisses her softly and tells her no.

As much as they both enjoy when he fucks her mouth, it’s not going to help him win this bet. Her mouth needs to be free to make all those beautiful noises.

“I think you’re forgetting the point here, doll.” he teases, sitting up between her thighs and slowly sliding his fingers out of her dripping pussy.

She doesn’t even try to stop the soft whine from the loss, and he grins at her, watching her as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, licking the delicious taste off both digits.

The sight of him clearly enjoying himself makes her want to bring him more pleasure, and she leans up to kiss him again, welcoming the taste of her wetness on his lips and tongue.

When her teeth playfully bite at his bottom lip, his fingers tangle in her hair to pull her head back, meeting her grin with one of his own.

“How about I put my cock somewhere else?”

The smile on her face grows, despite her slight disappointment at not getting to have him in her mouth. And as Bucky rests back on his knees, she slides her hands down to touch herself, giving him an even better view of her wet pussy.

The action immediately makes him groan, and his hands move to her ankles, gripping them to steady himself. After all this time, she still has the ability to catch him off guard, and it makes him love her even more.

They both watch as he moves his hips forward to slide his cock along her slick slit, almost slipping inside her before gliding up to tease her exposed clit.

The movement sends a jolt of pleasure through both of them, and she lets out a soft whine, shifting her hips to try to guide him to where he needs to be.

It’s futile, though. Bucky’s doing this on purpose. Trying to make her forget the bet, but she keeps herself under control, breathing heavily through her nose, proving to him she’s just as dedicated as he is.

With a longing look on her face, and another shift of her hips, she pleads, “Fuck me.”

Bucky’s fingers tighten around her ankles, but he stays exactly where he is, continuing to tease her with the head of his cock. “You sure you’re ready?”

His gentle tone makes her laugh softly, but he shakes his head at her, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’m serious, doll.” His breathing is just as heavy as hers, his body tense from trying to control himself. “I’m planning to fuck you until you scream for me.”

She’s far from making objections, her need for him overwhelming. As if he needs any more encouragement, she licks her lips and raises her brow at him, declaring yet again, “I’m going to win this bet.”

His laugh sends another shiver down her spine and a pulse of pleasure straight to her clit. There’s no way she’s winning this bet, but she’s going to have fun losing.

Bucky angles his hips, their bodies fitting together perfectly, and as the tip of his cock pushes against her entrance, he tells her, “Arms over your head.”

She narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t question it, knowing there’s a good reason for it. And she’s excited to find out what it is.

The moment her hands grip the pillow under her head, he smirks at her and snaps his hips, burying himself inside of her.

A harsh gasp leaves her, but it’s not loud enough to make her lose and she throws her head back, biting her lips to keep her mouth shut as he starts to fuck her hard.

Bucky pushes her legs back, spreading her wider as he finds a quick rhythm. His own noises of pleasure get louder, but he does nothing to quiet them.

He knows how much she craves the sounds he makes, the pleasure she gives him like nothing he’s ever experienced.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, trying not to squeeze her ankles too hard, “you feel so good, baby. So wet, oh my god.”

She can’t look at him. She clings to the pillow underneath her, her forearms cradling her head as she does everything in her power not to cry out. His cock feels so good inside of her, reaching all the spots that make her toes curl and her body shudder in pleasure.

Bucky is more than desperate to hear more from her. The soft gasps and whimpers doing nothing to quell the ache to experience her pleasure at its fullest.

He’s used to her cries and moans filling the room, and while everything about her is telling him she’s enjoying herself, it’s not nearly enough.

“Stay just like that,” he orders her, sliding his hands down, squeezing her thick thighs as keeps moving, his hips never faltering.

She’s in no mood to disobey, willingly letting him fuck her towards yet another orgasm. Bucky can feel her tightening, her walls trying to keep him in place on each outstroke.

“That’s it. You wanna come for me again? Wanna come all over my cock?”

She can’t trust her voice and all she can do is nod her head, finally opening her eyes to look up at him.

He immediately growls and leans forward, letting her thighs spread around him as his hands go to her bouncing tits, making her back arch, allowing him even deeper.

Bucky curses again, her wetness allowing him to bottom out each time, and he can feel his own orgasm building, the sight of her writhing underneath him almost too much.

“Fuck,” he growls, his right hand moving to her stomach, loving the feel of his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his hips never slowing. “You feel so good. Come on, come for me, doll, let me feel you.”

All it takes is one brush of his thumb over clit and she comes again, her fingers sore from her tight grip the pillow. But all she can focus on is the electric current of pleasure rushing through her, the tension causing her to clench her teeth.

She resists the urge to press her face against her arm, and somehow manages to make it through the intense pleasure with only making soft, breathy moans.

It’s at this point that something in Bucky snaps.

He fucks her through the waves of pleasure, waiting until her body finally starts to relax, before he suddenly pulls out.

The whine she makes is louder than all the sounds she’s made tonight, and she opens her mouth in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not quite done with you yet,” he promises her, the gruffness of his voice making her hips shift.

Bucky chuckles softly and runs his hands over her body, his fingers dancing over her throat before sliding down between her breasts.

Before he does anything else, he checks in with her. “You ready to keep going?”

Her words come easy this time. “Yes, please," she smiles, lifting her hips again as if to entice him.

He has other plans though, and instructs her to turn over, the roughness of his voice returning. The excitement on her face is clear as she quickly obeys, getting into position - head down, ass up.

Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the view, the desire to claim her burning him up. He controls his breathing and reaches out, running his palm along her back and down to her ass, relishing the way she immediately spreads her thighs even more.

“Good girl,” he praises her, his voice deep with admiration. And then he slaps her ass, hard enough to make her gasp, and she turns her head to look over her shoulder at him.

They grin at each other, and he does it again, making her groan softly, but she pushes back, welcoming the sting.

Bucky’s hand rubs across the pinkening skin as his metal hand slips between her thighs, teasing her with his fingertips.

She’s more than ready for him to keep fucking her, but he still asks again, needing to hear her give him permission one final time.

As soon as she utters the soft plea of ‘yes, please’ he’s lining up behind her, his hand wrapped around his thick shaft to guide himself back to her welcoming pussy.

He wastes no time and sinks into her with a soft groan, her hot, slick walls enveloping his hard cock like she was made for him.

Bucky takes her slowly at first, the feel of her pussy fluttering with each long stroke of his cock making it difficult to focus.

She’s so sensitive, and with each deep thrust, her soft noises start to get just a bit louder, reminding him he’s on the right track.

His tender touches start to become a bit firmer, and as her hips begin to meet his with more force, he suddenly grips her waist.

Bucky plans to do whatever it takes to elicit louder noises from her, and without warning, he starts to piston his hips, making her take all of him, over and over.

This time she’s expecting it though and has just enough time to grit her teeth, each thrust making her gasp, her breath coming quick and shallow.

It’s taking all of her focus not to give in and let herself lose the bet already; she’s just too stubborn to give in, no matter how good Bucky is making her feel.

The irritation grows in Bucky, her lack of noise starting to feel personal, and his hands move to her hips, grabbing fistfuls of her ass as he starts to fuck her harder.

He watches as her back arches and her fingers grip the bedsheets, each deep thrust causing her legs start to shake again. She’s almost there. He can feel it.

She whines his name, and her hands scramble to grip the edge of the mattress, keeping her head turned, refusing to bury her face in the covers.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs, the tenderness a stark contrast to the way he’s fucking her. “Gonna squirt for me again, aren’t you?”

All she can do is nod her head, her eyes shut tight, trying her best to keep her noises under control. But, with each thrust of his cock, she feels herself slipping, her skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat.

It’s like a breath of fresh air to Bucky, watching as she starts to slowly lose control.

Any other time, he might take it easy on her, wanting her to be proud of herself for doing something she didn’t think she could do.

But, he’s way past that point now.

Now, all he wants is to make her lose control and scream for him. And he has one more trick up his sleeve.

Bucky’s strong hands slide up along her back as he raises himself up, placing his feet flat on the bed in order to crouch over her, keeping his cock buried inside of her.

“Oh god,” she breathes, her eyes rolling back in her head as she tries to prepare herself.

She loves this position, but it’s going to be her downfall. And it’s clear Bucky knows it, because the moment he starts moving his hips, he starts talking to her, the growl in his voice pushing her closer to the edge.

“That’s right. Told you I was gonna fuck you until you scream for me.”

He fucks her hard, the angle making his cock rub against her g-spot with each stroke, and she can feel the coil in her belly tightening.

She can no longer stop her noises from getting louder, and without thinking, she makes a desperate move to regain some semblance of composure.

With a quick pull of her elbows, she buries her face between her forearms, trying to quiet the cry of pleasure as she reaches a breaking point.

Bucky won’t allow it though, and grabs a fistful of her hair, forcing her head to the side.

“Fucking take it,” he demands, grunting with each hard thrust, “fucking take all of me.”

It’s too much. She can’t hold on anymore and her body tenses, her tightening pussy almost pushing him out.

“That’s it!” he growls. “Come for me, baby! God, I love you so fucking much.”

She sobs as her stomach tenses and she squirts, each hard thrust causing her wetness to run down her thighs and soak the sheets.

He talks her through it, like he always does, telling her how beautiful she is, how good she feels, and how much he loves making her come for him.

Even as her body pulses from the aftershocks, Bucky keeps going, slowing his pace as he settles back to his knees behind her, trying to help her come down slowly.

She was loud, but not enough to satisfy his need to hear her scream.

“I need you to give me one more,” he murmurs, running his hands along her sweaty back.

She whispers his name and shakes her head, her trembling limbs trying to give out on her.

Bucky’s quick to guide her onto her back again, this time slipping a pillow underneath to raise her hips.

He’s already fucked her senseless - she’s barely able to keep her eyes open - but he knows she has one more to give him.

Bucky starts slow again, giving her time to come back down, waiting until she can finally look up at him, still clearly cock-drunk.

He murmurs words of praise, telling her once again how beautiful she is, splayed out like this for him, her arms over her head, her thighs spread wide.

“You’re gonna look so good in that swing, sweetheart. All tied up and on display for me.”

Whatever insecurities that usually run through her mind are absent, and she moans at his words, starting to slowly move her hips against him, welcoming his cock back inside of her.

The image of being completely at his mercy makes her body pulse, and Bucky smiles down at her, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin of her thighs, just taking another moment to truly appreciate her.

At this point, it doesn’t matter how he makes her come. She’s going to scream for him either way, all her inhibitions now gone that the bet is over.

And that frees him up to give her everything she could possibly need. “Tell me how you wanna come this time.”

She breathes heavily and just slowly shakes her head for a moment, still not sure she has anything left to give.

But, if there’s anyone that can pull it out of her it’s Bucky.

He waits patiently, fucking her slowly, barely pulling out before sliding back in until he’s completely sheathed. “Do you want me to keep fucking you like this?”

His fingers slowly move to her pussy, watching the way her body takes him so perfectly as his thumb finds her clit.

“Or do you need something else?”

The shaking of her head turns into nods and she tries to find her voice as her back arches, her body welcoming the intense pleasure.

Her body is so sensitive, like every nerve ending is exposed, and she’s still not sure what she needs. Bucky will give her whatever she asks for, but she’s too lost in the moment to answer him.

As much as he’s enjoying the unfiltered sounds coming out of her, he needs her to talk. He needs to know she’s still with him, that she truly wants him to keep going.

“Sweetheart.”

There’s a slight edge to his tone, and she meets his eyes again, a soft smile forming on her face.

He grins down at her and nods encouragingly, “I need your words.”

She nods again, but as she starts to say “I want-” her words are cut off by a soft whine, Bucky’s cock bottoming out inside of her, finding that spot that makes her legs shake.

They both laugh softly, and she shakes her head at him before she finally finishes her thought, “I want you to come with me.”

A deep moan leaves Bucky at her request, his grip on her thighs tightening as he resists the urge to start moving faster.

“Is that what you need?” he asks, starting to lean forward, peppering kisses along her breasts and collarbone.

Her answer of ‘yes’ comes quickly and he starts to rock against her, grinding his pelvis against her clit.

“Yes,” she repeats, the simple word causing pleasure to race up Bucky’s spine.

He drops to his elbows, caging her in, and they both start moving at the same time, her legs wrapped around him, encouraging his hard thrusts.

“Yes, fuck me, oh my god.” She doesn’t care how loud she is anymore, the cries and moans leaving her without a second thought.

Bucky’s already close, her pussy practically milking his cock, each flutter making him groan. But, he’s a man of his word and he’s not going to let himself give into the pleasure until she comes one more time.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, panting above her, unable to tear his gaze away, committing this moment to memory. “Such a perfect pussy, baby. Just made to take my cock.”

She clings to him, her nails scratching down his back, sure to leave marks. But he welcomes it, the sting adding to his pleasure, watching as she cries out, her body starting to tense, her final orgasm building.

When she whines his name, he hears the apprehension in her voice, as if to warn him that this one’s going to overwhelm her.

Bucky’s fingers slide through her hair, and he cradles her head, forcing her to keep looking at him.

“It’s okay,” he promises her. “Give it to me. Give me everything.” Her back arches and her pussy tightens, the sounds of her wetness filling the air as she starts to squirt again. “Fuck yes, come for me!”

And she does, her breath hitching as the sudden explosion of pleasure rocks her body.

Bucky doesn’t stop, moving hard and fast against her, forcing his cock to stay inside of her, even as her walls clench around him, almost pushing him out.

She cries out, finally giving him what he’s been working towards all night, her scream of pleasure sure to wake the neighbors.

Bucky can barely hold back, his own orgasm threatening to consume him, but he fights through it, giving her a few more seconds of his attention.

“That’s it, scream for me. Let everyone fucking hear you.”

But then she’s begging him to come too, her sobs of pleasure pushing him over the edge, and he kisses her hard, his tongue sliding along hers.

All his senses are consumed by her, every single part of him entirely overwhelmed with pleasure, the rhythm of his hips faltering as his cock pulses, filling her up with his cum.

After a few more lazy thrusts, their hips finally come to a stop, and he groans against her mouth, collapsing on top of her.

They’re both panting, their arms wrapped around each other, Bucky’s weight a welcome feeling as he starts to nuzzle her neck, breathing in her scent.

They take their time coming back down, murmuring words of love and affection, their lips eventually meeting again in a soft, tender kiss.

She barely registers him rolling them over, but makes a soft noise of protest when he slowly pulls out.

Bucky’s own sigh joins hers, the loss of her warmth making his softening cock twitch. If it wasn’t so late, and she wasn’t clearly spent, he’d happily go another round.

For now, they snuggle quietly, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while his fingers make slow, soothing strokes along her back.

Bucky’s sensitive ears pick up the steady rhythm of her heart as well, the sound a constant comfort to him even on his hardest days.

Eventually, they finally move, sharing another brief kiss and exchanging words of love yet again, neither of them ever tiring of hearing it - or professing it to each other.

But, they need to clean up, his release still leaking out of her, leaving her slick - and he’s not much better off, their combined fluids matting the hair at the base of his cock.

Bucky’s first to finish in the attached bathroom, and he’s already in bed when she returns, the covers pulled up to his stomach, his phone in his hands.

The silly grin on his face makes her laugh, and she climbs onto the bed, asking him, “What are you up to?”

He gives her a quick glance, his bright smile making her heart flutter as he returns his attention back to his phone.

“I’m purchasing that sex swing.”

---------------------------

The Prize

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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motivation-idontknowher · 2 years ago

Text

Ohhhhh my god I was HEATED THROUGHOUT THIS WHOLE FIC. HEATED I TELL YOU

your white wolf

pairing: mafia!bucky barnes x mafia princess!fem reader

summary: james buchanan barnes—the feared white wolf—storms your wedding and kills your fiancé, taking you for himself. despite yourself, you give in to him.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes and elements, enemies to lovers, non-con (it becomes consensual but definitely starts off as non-con so be warned!), gun violence, death, character (not bucky) threatening sexual assault against reader, reader slaps bucky a couple times, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, sex in a church, knife kink, choking, dry humping, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise kink, pet names (printsessa), a bit of corruption kink, a lot of dirty talk. i think that's it but please let me know if i missed something!!!

word count: 11.7k

a/n: it's been a minute since i've written some mob au so i decided to join @the-slumberparty's april challenge!! i ended up using three of the dark prompts because i just liked them—and also this fic ended up being way longer than i expected 😅 it's very dark but also very sweet i think!? i just love a soft!dark bucky barnes (or any character really). anyway! i had a lot of fun writing this one so i hope y'all enjoy!!!

You met James Buchanan Barnes on your wedding day.

You’d heard of him before then, of course. He was the White Wolf—the most feared man of the Russian mob, having come from obscurity and helped re-establish the Romanoff family as a force to be reckoned with in the city. The White Wolf was known for being ruthlessly violent, leading a pack of enforcers who left no prisoners and no witnesses. You’d only heard tales of his violence whispered in the halls of your father’s mansion.

You’d paid the stories little mind, though, since it wasn’t your place to worry about such things. Your role as your father’s daughter was to look pretty and do as he told. And you were a good daughter. So when your father told you to get engaged and secure an alliance with another of the city’s powerful families, you did. You dedicated yourself to planning your wedding, making sure it would be an event worthy of your family’s name and reputation.

You were halfway down the aisle when you realized something was wrong. It had never been the plan for your father to walk you down the aisle. Though it had confused you when he’d told you as much, you’d brushed it off. But your father wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the church, not even sitting in the pews. You couldn’t find your mother either, or your older brother or other key members of your family.

Instead, your side of the church was filled with the lower dregs of your family’s organization. So many of your father’s enforcers stood watching you walk down the aisle, tension in their faces, that it almost gave you pause. You glanced worriedly to your fiancé, but he didn’t look concerned. No, he only looked greedy to get his hands on your body.

A shiver raced down your spine, but you couldn’t be sure if it was disgust at the way your fiancé was looking at you like you were a prize to be owned or if it was a warning against whatever your family knew and didn’t see fit to fill you in on. If nothing else, though, you knew how to play your role—so you kept walking, your step never faltering. Until the church doors behind you slammed open and the first shots rang out.

Ever your father’s daughter, you didn’t scream or cry for help; you broke out in a sprint, running up the rest of the aisle, staying as low to the ground as you could manage in your high heels. You bypassed your fiancé and the priest who had been meant to lead the wedding ceremony. The man of the church lay on the ground, struck by one of the first bullets, a pool of blood spilling from his head. Your fiancé had dropped to his knees and pulled out two guns, returning fire on whoever had stormed the church.

But you didn’t have time to look because you were focused on diving behind the church altar and covering your head, shielding yourself as bullets continued whizzing past, clipping the wood and sending shards flying everywhere. The church was filled with a cacophony of screams and gunshots. It was almost overwhelming, but you drew on the strength your father had cultivated in you, making sure you’d stay strong in any situation.

You huddled there for what seemed like forever, your whole body tense and shaking, curled into a ball with your voluminous wedding dress billowed around you. But no matter how terrified you were, your face stayed dry, your makeup perfect. You refused to shed a tear or show weakness. Even though all signs pointed to your father abandoning you to this fate—why else wouldn’t he have attended your wedding—his teachings were drilled into your head and they were all you had to cling to in that moment.

As time went on, the constant sound of gunfire was reduced to intermittent shots, the screams replaced by men shouting in Russian. You realized, with a sickening lurch of your stomach, why exactly that was. You didn’t dare stick your head out to see who of your father’s men might be left alive, and instead started looking for an exit. No one was going to save you, so if you were going to make it out alive, you’d have to save yourself. But before you could work up the nerve to try to flee, you heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the altar, where you’d last seen your fiancé.

A thump and a wet gurgle met your ears as you strained to listen.

“You’ll never take our families’ power,” came a strained voice you recognized as belonging to your fiancé. He coughed, the sound wet and foreboding. You hadn’t been around much violence, but you’d seen enough of your father’s men die to know your fiancé wasn’t long for this world.

“I’ve already wiped out most of your family, kozyol,” said a smooth, deep voice. There was no inflection or emotion to the man’s tone, only endless coldness. “Now, where is your printsessa hiding? I know her father’s men didn’t get her out of here.”

The coldness and the hint of a Russian accent told you everything you needed to know about the man—he was none other than the White Wolf. Fear trickled down through your heart and settled heavily in your stomach. Instinctively, you pressed yourself harder against the wooden alter at your back, like if you tried hard enough, you might be able to hide within the grain.

“Fuck you,” your fiancé spit out. His breathing was growing more ragged even as his anger notched higher. In truth, you knew his rage was likely quickening his death, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care much about him—not when you were in so much danger. “She’s mine.”

A cruel laugh sounded. “You’re in no place to make such declarations, kozyol,” the White Wolf said. Then, a gunshot rang out and you had to stifle a scream against your knees at the sudden sound. Your fiancé didn’t speak again.

As quietly as you could manage, you curled up into a tighter ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You forced yourself to breathe silently, which was no small feat when terror was flooding your bloodstream. You considered your options. The White Wolf was too close to try to run—there was no way you could outrun him or his bullets even if you kicked off your heels.

But you couldn’t continue hiding either, it was only a matter of time before he found you. You didn’t know what exactly the White Wolf wanted with you, but you were fairly certain it ended in your death. So the question was whether you wanted to meet your fate cowering like an animal or stand up and face it head on. The strength in your soul prompted you to stand, but before you could get your feet underneath you and rise up with your head held high to meet the White Wolf, you heard another voice.

“Can’t wait to find this bitch—gonna make that whore scream when it’s my turn with her,” said an oily, Russian-accented voice. The new man laughed, the sound grating and unpleasant. An even colder fear had you frozen in place while you listened, understanding the implications of the man’s words and no longer wanting to accept your fate. Death was one thing, this was another.

“Your turn?” the White Wolf asked, his tone deceptively calm as he spoke the two words.

The other man stuttered, clearly hearing the fury that lay beneath the White Wolf’s placid demeanor. “Well, Rumlow said…” he started to say, but was cut off on a choked sound. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the White Wolf had grabbed the other man by the throat, choking him and cutting off his words.

“Is Rumlow your boss?” the White Wolf asked in that cruelly cold voice of his. The other man made some choked, panicked sounds that even you knew meant he was begging and pleading for forgiveness. “I didn’t think so,” the White Wolf went on. He must’ve released the other man because you heard him gasping for breath. “The printsessa is mine—make sure the others know it,” the White Wolf growled. The other man scrambled down the stairs to the aisle and scurried off, still wheezing.

A sick sense of relief swept over you. For a few horrific moments, you’d thought the White Wolf meant to pass you around to his men, so learning he had no intention of letting anyone else touch you was a comfort. You didn’t know what it meant to have the White Wolf lay claim to you. Though you suspected you wouldn’t like whatever he had planned for you, it couldn’t be so bad as what the other man had in mind.

You knew you should stand and meet the White Wolf on your own terms, but your knees shook so fiercely, you didn’t know if they could hold you. Before you could gather your courage enough to try, you heard the White Wolf speak again.

“Hear that, printsessa?” he called softly, his voice quiet but close, like he was just on the other side of the altar. Cold realization washed over you. The White Wolf knew exactly where you were, and he was speaking directly to you. “You’re safe enough with me, so why don’t you come out?”

His statement didn’t soothe you in the way he clearly meant it to, and you looked down at your legs, willing them to work. You wanted them to carry you away, to carry you to safety the same way they had when bullets had started flying. But they were still wobbling too much. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes, but you furiously blinked them away.

“Don’t run from me, printsessa,” the White Wolf went on, his voice a low rumble, almost a growl. He didn’t sound angry, though, only eager. “You won’t like what I do to you if you run and I catch you.” The White Wolf rounded the altar, his sharp blue eyes falling on your huddled form, surrounded by the fabric of your wedding dress.

Instantly, your body shifted, shoulders moving back and chin rising up, your expression morphing into one of haughty defiance. Your shaking legs hadn’t allowed you to stand and face him, but you could manage to hide your weakness. You refused to show the White Wolf fear. He was just a man—albeit an extremely handsome man, you realized begrudgingly. Even still, you were your father’s daughter and you would project as much strength as you could muster.

“There’s my printsessa,” the White Wolf said, a merciless grin spreading across his face. He was all sharp angles, his jaw looking like it was carved from steel, his smile a dangerous slash. Even his eyes, so intent and focused on you, looked unyielding as he stared down at you.

A shiver threatened to wrack your body at the way his lips wrapped around the pet name, the barest hint of warmth seeping into his tone with that possessive two-word phrase. It was enough to have sparks flaring to life in your core, but you tamped them down immediately, your face remaining still as stone. You refused to show he had any affect on you at all.

The White Wolf’s grin ticked up higher, like he could somehow read your thoughts, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he held a hand out to you, almost like he knew how to play the gentleman. “Up you go,” he murmured, the snap of a command in his tone.

Reluctantly, you slid your fingers into his grasp, feeling the callouses of his palm rub against the smoothness of your own. Another shiver threatened, but then his fingers closed around yours and he yanked you up off the floor. Your legs felt weak beneath your weight and before you could stop yourself, you stumbled into the White Wolf’s chest. Your hands pressed against the front of his suit, feeling the firm muscles beneath the soft fabric of his shirt and jacket. His arms went around your waist, steadying you and drawing you in closer.

Looking up into the White Wolf’s face, you caught him staring down at you with hunger written plainly across his features. The craving in his blue eyes was so all-consuming, you felt as though you could drown in it. Against your will, heat began pooling in your core, your body betraying your mind and leaning further against his chest. You were enraptured by the White Wolf’s eyes, but a moment later, his voice interrupted your staring.

“Didn’t think a woman who ran like you did in those heels would be so unsteady on her feet,” the White Wolf, murmured, a teasing smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

At his comment, you stiffened, remembering yourself and who exactly was holding you. Locking your knees to make sure you didn’t stumble again, you pushed off from your enemy’s chest. His arms fell away and you refused to acknowledge the thought that you might have lost something as you stepped back from the man that had stormed your wedding.

Squaring your shoulders, you turned your nose up at the White Wolf. “My father will kill you for what you’ve done today,” you declared haughtily.

Steeling yourself, you looked out over the carnage of the church. Bodies littered the pews and aisle, blood spattered everywhere. Men that presumably worked for the White Wolf were stationed at the doors of the church, most also covered in blood. Your forced yourself not to react to the violent ends of the White Wolf’s attack, wanting him to think you weren’t phased by the realities of the world you lived in. You took a long, steady look—your stomach churning and wanting to rebel against the meager breakfast you’d had—before turning back to the White Wolf.

His sharp eyes were watching you closely and you had the unnerving thought he might very well see through your act. You were certain it wouldn’t end well for you if the White Wolf was the only one who looked close enough to see you for what you were, a scared girl completely out of her depth. So you gathered the strength your father had instilled in you and held steady, fighting against the urge to raise your chin higher, knowing it would only give away your insecurity. Instead, you stared back at the White Wolf as impassively as you could manage.

A smile so cold it reminded you of the winter wind chilling you to the bone spread across the White Wolf’s face, his white teeth flashing amid the dark stubble decorating his jaw. The expression made you want to shiver, but you held it off. “Your father was tipped off about my plans today,” he said, confirming what you’d already suspected. “And he left you here to die, printsessa—do you really want to put your faith in a man like that?”

“Whether I’m dead or alive, he won’t stand for the insult,” you said, your voice filled with false bravado. It broke your heart a little to say the words even though you knew they were true, so you soldiered on. “He will come for you.”

“Are you saying I should kill you, printsessa?” the White Wolf asked, something like interest sparking in his cold blue eyes.

“Death would be preferable to whatever you have planned for me, White Wolf,” you sneered. Your hands were fisted at your sides, nails biting into your palms. “You may not be letting your men take turns with me now, but who knows about tomorrow.”

Without meaning to, you seemed to hit a nerve because your words enraged him, fury contorting his handsome face. “You are mine, printsessa,” he snarled, letting emotion get the best of him for the first time. He caught himself, though, and took a breath. Before your eyes, he visibly calmed, smoothing his hands down over his suit jacket. His white shirt and dark jacket were both dotted with blood, though he wasn’t as covered as some of his men. “No one else will touch you but me, you have my word.”

A mocking laugh erupted from you before you could control yourself. “I don’t know how much I trust your word, White Wolf.”

Your enemy’s eyes flashed. “Then trust that your father was willing to let you die today, and it serves me well to make sure he doesn’t get what he wants,” he said, his voice calm, though you could detect barely leashed emotion beneath it. A muscle in his jaw popped as he looked out over the church in an approximation of disinterest. “So for now, you get to live.”

“I get to live,” you scoffed, your voice caustic and loud with your frustration. “As what, a toy—a doll for you to play with? What kind of existence is that?” You didn’t know why you were trying to rile up your enemy, but it worked. The White Wolf’s attention returned to you, his sharp blue eyes reading the expression on your face and you, once again, had the feeling he was seeing more than you wanted him to.

“I think you’ll enjoy being my little doll, printsessa,” the White Wolf said, a dark promise in his tone. Then he grabbed you suddenly, pulling you into his arms again. You fell into him, pressing flush against his body and feeling the bulge of his erection against your stomach. “Should I show you now—spread you out and make you cum on my cock on the altar where you were meant to marry another?”

You gasped in indignation, spitting out, “Don’t you dare.” Jerking a hand free from where he’d pinned them to your sides, you slapped the White Wolf across the face. The loud cracking sound echoed in the church, and it gave you some satisfaction—but only for a moment.

The White Wolf smiled slowly, his expression all teeth and hunger as need sparked in his blue eyes. It seemed he intended to take your words as a challenge because in the next breath, he was walking you backwards to the church’s altar. You fought against him, even as your body heated at the lust in his face. Wetness pooled between your thighs while you beat against his muscled chest, your own desire growing when you realized your fighting had no affect on the White Wolf.

“Is it not enough that you’ve turned my wedding into a massacre?” you raged furiously, a good portion of your anger directed at yourself. Your body was betraying you, wanting to let this man have his way with you, to satisfy the ache in the depths of your core, despite what he’d done to your father’s men—to your wedding. “Haven’t you desecrated this church enough, White Wolf?”

Your enemy reached behind you, pressing his chest to you, his eyes drilling into yours, and cleared off the altar with one clean sweep of his arm. “If your god wished me to stop, he could smite me right where I stand,” he said, his words rumbling in his chest, the vibration teasing through your body.

The White Wolf stepped back, raising his arms up and looking to the sky, as if challenging the whole of heaven. He had a determined look on his face and, in that moment, you thought he looked a bit like a god himself. It occurred to you that if he were to challenge any god or man, he would come out the winner. You’d never stood a chance.

After a moment, the White Wolf looked back at you. “Guess he doesn’t mind.” His gaze swept down your body, hunger etched into his face and burning in his eyes. “Let your god watch as I defile your body so thoroughly you’ll be begging me for more of my cock, printsessa.”

“I will never,” you spit viciously, using your rage to mask the way your body was throbbing for him. You slapped him again, but he grabbed your wrist.

The White Wolf only laughed at your protests, the cold sound sliding down your spine and stoking more heat to life in your core. Before you could start to squirm, he pushed you down on the altar, covering your body with his own, pressing you into the hard wood. He pinned your hands above your head, his hips settling against yours, his hardness flushing against your softness.

“Just wait and see, printsessa—I always keep my word.” With that, he slanted his cruel mouth against yours, taking your lips in a fierce kiss.

You tried to remain stiff and unyielding beneath your enemy, keeping your mouth closed in a firm like. You tried to fight him off, your hands pushing against his grip on your wrists and your hips trying to buck him off. All of it was worthless against the strength and determination of the White Wolf.

His lips pressed and tugged on your own, coaxing you with a brutal persistence. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, working you slowly but surely open. Finally, your resistance waned and you gave in to him, opening for the White Wolf. Distantly, you hoped to lull him into your mouth and bite his tongue like the evil snake that he was, but the thought flitted away as he delved between your lips.

Your legs shifted, your knees widening as you tried to throw him off you, and he slid between them, settling heavily into the cradle of your thighs. The White Wolf’s hard, thick bulge pressed to your heated core and a breathy moan tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. You were lost to sensation, pleasure overwhelming your mind as you melted beneath your enemy.

The corners of the White Wolf’s mouth tipped up as he pressed his advantage, grinding his hips into the juncture of your thighs, wrenching more gasps and moans from your mouth. He slid his hands up from your wrists, tangling with your fingers even as he kept you pinned to the altar, his lips working against yours relentlessly. He fucked your mouth with his tongue and rocked his bulge against your clit, taking possession of your body as surely and he and his men had taken possession of the church.

It felt as though your mind had lost control of your body, the tethers of your anger drifting away on a sea of lust and pleasure until your own hunger for the White Wolf was all that was left. Your thighs spread wider and your knees climbed your enemy’s sides, opening yourself up for him willingly. Your fingers squeezed his, clinging to him and no longer trying to fight him off. You were lost, lost, lost—your tongue twined with his, your hips rising off the altar to meet his grinding thrusts. Your bodies came together in a mimicry of man’s most primal dance. Until you were interrupted.

“Boss!”

The shouted word pierced the cloud of desire that had fallen over your mind and your whole body tensed. The White Wolf pulled away a mere second before you could sink your teeth into his tongue like you’d originally planned. He lifted his chest off you, but kept you pinned to the altar with his hands and hips. You watched as his heavy-lidded eyes sharpened and turned to the man who had yelled.

“What is it,” the White Wolf ground out, his jaw clenched in frustration. Your lipstick was smeared all over his mouth, but he looked no less fierce for it. You didn’t know if he didn’t wipe it away because he didn’t care or because he didn’t want to risk letting you have a free hand.

Either way, something in your chest warmed at the sight of seeing the big, bad White Wolf marked with your lipstick. It gave you a feeling of power unlike anything you’d felt before. Nothing had ever truly been yours—your heart, your future, your entire self had belonged to your father. You were stunned to realize that the thought of marking the White Wolf as yours, of him letting his men see your lipstick on him, felt really fucking good. Confusion warred in your mind at the realization and you forced yourself to avoid those thoughts and pay attention to the conversation.

“The patriarch hasn’t left his stronghold, nor has he sent any more men,” the man reported. “We don’t believe he’s planning a rescue.” He cut himself off, and when you dragged your eyes from the White Wolf to look at the other man, you saw pity in his eyes. You turned your head away, refusing to see such a contemptible emotion directed your way. “At least, not yet,” the man added as an afterthought. You flinched.

Though the man couldn’t have seen your reaction, the White Wolf’s sharp eyes missed nothing. “Good,” he said in his cold, commanding voice. Your eyes flicked to his face. His expression was blank and impassive, but a fire had been set alight in his eyes.

You realized the cold cruelty was a mask the White Wolf wore around his men, and he’d all but shed it entirely in the short time he’d been around you. That treacherous warmth in your heart threatened again and you forced yourself to look away from your enemy. You focused your gaze on the wall of the church and tamped down on the flame in your chest.

“Clear the men from this room, kill any survivors and hold a perimeter,” the White Wolf said, issuing his orders in a sharp tone like he was cracking a whip.

The henchman muttered, “Yes, boss,” and stepped away from the altar, shouting as he passed on the commands to his brethren. As quickly as they’d stormed the church, the White Wolf’s men retreated, drawing back to leave you with their boss. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened.

When you were alone, with only the dead left in the church, the White Wolf let his mask fall and he grinned down at you. The expression was just as sharp and cruel as the rest of him, and the effect nearly stole your breath from your lungs. Your body warred with itself, a shiver of anticipation trickling down your spine and heat pooling in your core even as your brain told you to be wary of him. You could think of only one reason the White Wolf would want to have you alone, and you couldn’t yet admit to yourself it was something you wanted desperately.

“Looks like you’ve been left to the mercy of the White Wolf, printsessa,” your enemy commented, his voice light and emotionless. He caught your wrists in one hand so he could smooth the edge of his thumb down the side of your face, still holding you pinned to the altar.

As you stared up into your enemy’s hard eyes, you could’ve sworn you saw something almost soft in his gaze. It sent your heart thudding in your chest. It was hard enough to resist him when he was being cold and ruthless. If he went soft and tender on you, you knew you’d be lost to him—not just your body, but your heart.

“When you’re mine, you can trust I’ll never be so callous with your safety,” the White Wolf said in a quiet voice, the words hushed and sacred. A promise.

Ignoring the heavy thump of your heart and the longing taking root in your chest, you gathered your anger around you like armor. Deliberately twisting your face into a snarl, you stared back at him with as much defiance as you could muster. “I’ll never be yours, White Wolf.”

The softness you thought you’d seen in the White Wolf’s eyes was gone, replaced so thoroughly with hunger, you were sure you’d imagined it. A cocky smirk swept across your enemy’s face as he tsked at you. “You say ‘never’ a lot, printsessa,” he mocked. With his free hand, he procured a knife from somewhere in his suit, the soft snick as it released sending a spike of fear and a thrill of excitement through you. “One of these days, you’re going to find you’ve made yourself a liar.”

An outraged, indignant sound burst from your mouth, but before you could retort, the White Wolf was slicing through the bodice of your dress, baring the lingerie you’d worn beneath. It was white and lacy, with intricate silk ribbons holding the delicate filigree together to hide your most intimate places. Bucky ripped your wedding dress down to your navel, his blue eyes sparkling with an insatiable greed at the sight of your body on display for him.

“Oh, printsessa,” he murmured in a low rumbling that went straight to your core, making you throb. When his eyes had taken a long perusal of your soft breasts and curved waist, the White Wolf’s gaze returned to yours. “Did you wear this pretty little getup for your would-be husband?” he asked in a taunting, cruel tone. He traced the flat tip of his knife around the edges of your lingerie, your body rioting at the feel of the cold steel against your skin. “Were you excited for him to peel it off you?”

Your expression hardened into a glare at his question, not wanting to think about what would have happened if you’d gone through with the wedding your father had wanted. Your fiancé had always coveted you like a prize, and you were certain he would have treated you with as much respect in the bedroom. It was no small part of you that was relieved you no longer had to marry that man, but you knew you shouldn’t say as much to your enemy—lest he get the wrong idea that you might be grateful.

“I wore it for myself,” you spit out indignantly, finding yourself telling the truth. You bit your lip against more words that wanted to tumble out. But that was answer enough for the White Wolf’s sharp eyes. He chuckled, the sound teasing through your body and making your core dampen further.

“Did I save you from an unpleasant marriage bed, printsessa?” he asked in a fake pitying voice, flicking his knife and slicing through the lace covering one of your breasts. He didn’t wait for an answer, just leaned down and took your nipple into his warm mouth. Your gasp was seemingly answer enough for him as he growled appreciatively at the feel of you. He teased your nipple into a tight, hardened peak with his tongue and teeth, laving it and nibbling on your sensitive flesh until you were breathing heavily.

When the White Wolf had tortured your nipple to his satisfaction, he let it fall from his mouth and blew across it, the feel of his warm breath on your wet, sensitive skin making you shiver in his hold. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together against the devastating ache in your core, but the White Wolf’s hips were still wedged between your legs, his bulge twitching against your slit through the layers of your dress.

The White Wolf noticed your body’s reaction to him and he grinned, catching your eye so you could see the spark of amusement in his gaze. He trailed his soft lips across your chest, his stubble rasping over your skin, and used his knife to push away the lace covering your other breast.

“Tell me you’re wetter for me right now than you ever were for him,” the White Wolf growled, his blue eyes darkening with intensity as he stared at you. “And don’t lie to me, printsessa.”

With your hands pinned above your head and your enemy wielding a knife, you knew you should have cowered, but instead you defiantly pressed your lips closed and glared at the White Wolf, letting him know you weren’t so easily conquered. It didn’t matter that he was right—that your fiancé had never gotten you even a little bit wet.

If you were honest with yourself, there had always been something about your fiancé that set you on edge, like you needed to be on high alert around him. You were glad he was dead, but that didn’t mean you were just going to easily spread your legs for the man who’d murdered him. No matter that you were so turned on, your desire was drenching the lace covering your slit.

You held the White Wolf’s gaze, refusing to think too hard about the fact that your enemy was pinning you down and holding a knife to your skin, and yet you felt less in danger than any moment you’d spent in the presence of your fiancé. The White Wolf was still the man who had stormed your wedding and killed so many of your father’s men the church would forever be stained in blood. You could not give in to him—even if an ever-growing part of you wanted to.

But your defiance didn’t have the intended effect. The White Wolf only laughed more, chuckling as he ducked his head and took your nipple into his mouth, delivering the same sinful torture upon it as he had your other. It wrenched a sharp gasp from your lips and your head fell back against the wooden altar with a thud. He attacked your soft tits with a relentlessness you’d never known before, licking and sucking on your nipples as if he could wring all the defiance from your body with his mouth. All you could do was lay there at his mercy, trying to stifle the breathy moans and lusty gasps that wanted to escape your lips.

So slowly you didn’t realize it was happening, your body loosened for the White Wolf, the tension fleeing your limbs as he inflicted blissful pleasure on you. By the time he pulled away, a satisfied grin on his face, you were nothing more than a puddle of desire on the church’s altar. Your body was soft and pliant beneath his large frame and it took all your restraint not to roll your hips against his, seeking the friction from his bulge that your weeping slit so desperately needed.

“Mmm that’s it, printsessa,” he rumbled, his deliciously deep voice settling low in your heated core. “Just needed someone to take care of your properly, didn’t you?” The White Wolf lavished your chest with kisses, the drag of his stubbled jaw sending a delightful shiver skating down your spine. You couldn’t help yourself, a wanton moan fell from your lips. “Such a filthy little slut for the right man, aren’t you?”

“And you think you’re that man?” you shot back, your voice breathier than you would’ve liked it to be as you still tried to defy the lust filling your head. “You don’t know the first thing about me, White Wolf,” you said, his name mocking as it passed your lips.

You didn’t fear any real retaliation for your defiance, and you refused to look too closely at that. For as long as you could remember, you were afraid of the men in your life, whether it was your father, his men or your fiancé. But you didn’t fear the White Wolf and, though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew it was because you felt safe with him. It was too unfathomable to consider, so you clung to your defiance, jutting out your chin as you looked up at your enemy.

“I know more than you think, printsessa,” the White Wolf challenged in a low voice, rising up so he hovered above you. “I know you are your father’s forgotten daughter, I know you are stronger than anyone around you believes you to be,” he said, his voice shaking with anger, though you somehow knew it wasn’t directed at you. “I know you’ll marry a man who disgusts you to earn the love of the family who would leave you to die.” His blue eyes blazed with an emotion you couldn’t name, but its intensity made you squirm. “I know they don’t deserve you.”

“And you do?” you countered. Anger, frustration and something else—something like hope—swirled in your stomach.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” the White Wolf murmured before pressing a kiss to your lips. It was such a sweet gesture, your hope sprouted wings and fluttered to life, soaring through your chest. When he pulled away, his expression was earnest, vulnerable. “But I’m not stupid enough to let that stop me from taking you and keeping you.”

A sound halfway between a scoff and a sob fell from your mouth as you clung to the anger that was quickly deserting you. You forced yourself to roll your eyes. “As if you could keep me,” you started to say, but it seemed the White Wolf was tired of letting you lie to him. He rocked his hips into yours, making your words dissolve into a moan. He ground his hard length against your dripping slit through the layers of your clothes, stoking your desire into a blazing heat that consumed your body.

“What was that, printsessa?” he asked teasingly, something like affection in his tone. Once you’d gotten control of yourself, you glared up at him, but he looked unrepentant about playing dirty. Before your eyes, his expression turned serious. “You will be mine,” he said, so much confidence in his tone you found yourself believing him.

You had to stop yourself from nodding and agreeing with him, but you were almost certain your defeat was written across your face. Despite your protests and defiance, the White Wolf had won you over. His relentlessness had penetrated the walls around your heart and, though it was still such a new and tentative feeling, you already knew deep inside that you were his.

Your pride didn’t allow you to admit any of your defeat to your enemy, but it didn’t escape the White Wolf’s sharp gaze because his expression morphed again. A self-satisfied smirk curled the edges of his mouth, the expression so sinful you didn’t know if you wanted to slap him again or pull him down for a kiss.

“Now show me what a good little slut you can be for your White Wolf,” he growled the command, rolling his hips against yours again. Your eyelids fluttered and a soft, gasping moan fell from your lips as pleasure rocked through you.

The White Wolf knew too well how to work your body up into a frenzy, his hips grinding his hard cock into your dripping pussy while his mouth lavished your nipples with kisses and bites that sent pleasure shooting straight to your core. As the White Wolf toyed with one of your nipples, he circled the other with the sharp tip of his knife, sending excited thrills through your body.

Your pleasure was rising higher and higher, coiling tight in your body as your legs clung to your enemy’s waist and your own hips rose to meet his hard, grinding thrusts. When he rubbed his hard cock against your clit and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your breast, your eyes flew open as the tension in your body suddenly snapped. A sharp cry escaped your mouth and your body trembled as you came.

Your whole being unraveled, your soul laid bare beneath the White Wolf and his attentions, your body quaking and your lips moaning his name as your orgasm ripped through you. “Wolf!” A sob tore from your throat and tears spilled from your eyes as shame and pleasure overwhelmed your mind. It was too much to comprehend that you had come so hard for him and you both still had most of your clothes on.

“That’s it, such a good girl, coming so well,” he murmured the soft praise as his grinding hips worked you through the aftershocks of your release. “Such a good little slut for your White Wolf.” He kissed away your tears. “My printsessa,” he said, his voice a low rumble. The possessiveness in his tone washed over you, making your heart thump in agreement.

It was undeniable, even as you fought against it, but in your heart you knew you were his. What was worse, you found you wanted to belong to the White Wolf. You wanted more of the safety and pleasure he offered you so freely. Love was something you’d always had to fight for, compete for, set aside all your wants and needs for. That was how your family had taught you to love.

But here was a man who offered it without asking for anything in return except to be his. It seemed too easy, and maybe it said something about you that you didn’t chafe at the idea of belonging to such a ruthless man as the White Wolf, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. You knew, in that moment, that you’d be a fool to pass up on what your enemy offered. So you spoke, responding to his last words.

“My White Wolf,” you whispered through lips swollen from his kisses and your crying. The words and the admission in them came easier than you would’ve expected. Your eyes were open as you stared at the man who was no longer your enemy, watching for his reaction. He didn’t disappoint.

The man above you froze, shifting up so he could see you properly. You knew your absolute surrender was written all over your face because you let him see it, you wanted him to know that you were giving yourself to him. With your eyes, you pleaded with him to keep your heart safe.

His expression softened into a look so pure and vulnerable, it almost seemed out of place on the face of a man you knew had murdered countless. Instinctively, you knew you were the only one who had ever seen this man without his shields, and you cherished it for the gift it was.

You wiggled your hands against his hold until he let you free. Slowly, you brought your arms down and reached for him, cupping his face in both your hands. “Mine,” you said fiercely, telling him again that you were choosing him.

A gentle, genuine smile curved the White Wolf’s mouth. “Yours,” he growled before ducking down and slanting his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It was short, but it felt like you had both sealed your fate with it. The punctuation at the end of your vows.

When the White Wolf pulled away, his voice was gruff with emotion. “I’ll make you my wife one day soon, printsessa,” he promised, his eyes darkening as they raked down your body. “After we burn this dress you wore for another man.” Before you could respond, he began tearing the garment from your body, using his knife to rip it to shreds while being careful not to hurt you.

Happiness and excitement bubbled up in your chest, freed from someplace so deep in your heart you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt that part of yourself. You giggled before you could stop yourself, delight sizzling through you at the eagerness with which your White Wolf tore your dress from you. “Gonna make me Mrs. White Wolf?” you asked teasingly, affection warming your tone.

The man who was no longer your enemy paused in his destruction of your white wedding gown and cocked his head to the side, almost looking like a wolf in that moment. His blue eyes focused in on your face. “Do you not know my real name, printsessa?”

Your laughter died on your lips and your face screwed up as you thought, but you realized you didn’t. Shaking your head, you stared up at the man who had made you cum hard enough your whole world had realigned and were forced to admit you didn’t know his name. “No, I—I guess I don’t.”

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, ripping through the last of your skirts with a flourish and pushing the offending fabric from your body. He paused as he dragged his gaze up your body, blue eyes sparkling with hunger and happiness when they met yours. “So you’ll become Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes—Mrs. Barnes for short.”

Something warm and overwhelming filled your heart and you smiled up at your man. “Jamie,” you murmured, reaching your hands out to him. He shed his jacket, tossing it onto the altar above your head, then climbed back up your body.

“Most of my friends—what few I have—call me Bucky,” he said, a grin on his face and fondness in his eyes as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You tilted your head into his soothing touch, but were quickly distracted by his white dress shirt, running your hands up his chest to his collar. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons as you responded to him. “I want to call you Jamie,” you said, looking up at him with a pout as you pushed his shirt open and let your fingers start to explore his chest. He was all cut muscle and golden skin. There were scars dotted across his pecs and abdomen from old wounds, and you traced those delicately wishing you could kiss each of them.

“You can call me anything you like, my printsessa,” Bucky said, smiling down at you with affection written plainly across his face as he shed his shirt and discarded it on top of his jacket. “So Jamie it is.”

Ducking down, Bucky dragged his lip slightly over yours in a ghost of a kiss. Grumbling through a smile of your own, you tilted your head, capturing his mouth in a proper kiss. He lips curled in a smile before he devoured you with his kiss, his mouth demanding and possessive as it moved against yours. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless.

“Ready for my cock, printsessa?” Bucky rumbled, grinding his hardness against your dripping slit through his pants and your lingerie. “Ready for me to claim you on the altar where you would have wed another man?”

Heat and need coursed through you, your wet folds rubbing against the drenched lace between your legs and the hot, hard length of him. But it wasn’t enough, you needed more. Before you could think better of it, your lips were moving and you were begging your White Wolf for what you wanted so desperately. “Please, Jamie—need you inside me, please!”

Bucky chuckled, the sound so self-satisfied you might have glared at him if you weren’t half mindless with lust. “Told you you’d be begging for my cock, printsessa,” he murmured, pushing up onto his knees and staring down at your bared body. The ruins of your wedding dress lay in tatters around you, framing your body for his eyes only. “I’ve already made a liar out of you and I haven’t even buried my cock in that sweet cunt of yours.” He trailed the edge of his knife down your body, digging into your soft skin but never piercing your flesh.

The delicious drag of the blade made you shiver, but the loss of contact against your pussy had your mind clearing somewhat and you bit out a response. “I’m not a liar,” you huffed indignantly, shooting him a half-hearted glare. Bucky only looked amused, so you tossed your head and lifted your chin defiantly as best you could in your position. “I just changed my mind.”

At that moment, Bucky pressed the flat edge of his knife against your clit and the feel of the cold steel against your heated flesh had you whimpering. Bucky grinned down at you. “You’re a liar and a slut, printsessa,” he said, bending down and planting a hand beside your head, watching as pleasure contorted your face. He dragged his knife against your clit, watching as your hips twitched in response. “But it’s alright—you were only lying to yourself,” he said distractedly, too caught up by the sight of his knife dragging through your folds. “And you’re my slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you said, nodding while you gasped and writhed beneath Bucky’s knife. He was being so careful, and you were trying not to move too much so you didn’t hurt yourself, but it was too much of a tease. You needed more. “Jamie,” you whined, hands fisting in your tattered dress at your sides.

With a flick of his wrist, Bucky caught the lace of your lingerie on the tip of his knife and he sliced through it, baring you finally. You whimpered as the cool air of the church brushed against your heated core. Bucky tore the remnants of your lingerie from your body and tossed it aside, letting his eyes roam over you unhindered.

“So beautiful, printsessa,” he murmured, his tone reverent as he worshiped you with his eyes. When he’d looked his fill, he began dragging his knife along your body, tracing your soft curves with its sharp edge. Shivers wracked your body, but Bucky was careful, deliberate. He circled your nipples with the tip of the blade, making you gasp as excitement thrilled through you, shooting directly to your slit and making you throb desperately.

“Jamie, please,” you begged in a soft, hoarse voice. Your words broke off on a moan when Bucky trailed his knife back to your core, teasing your clit with the blunt edge of the knife. He slide it through your dripping folds and you fought to hold yourself still when all you wanted was relief. It was blissful torture, and Bucky’s eyes sparkled with delight as he watched you struggle beneath him. “Ple-ease,” you moaned brokenly, sobs heaving in your chest.

Chuckling, Bucky pulled the steel blade away from your throbbing core, holding your gaze as he licked your arousal from the silver edge. The breath froze in your lungs at the dangerously sinful picture he painted. For a moment, you were stunned by the knowledge that this man—this violent, ruthless, cruel man—was all yours. Your heart warmed at the thought. He hummed in delight, the sound a low, deep rumble in his chest that went straight to your clit, and you were spurred into motion.

Your fingers shaking in their eagerness, you reached for Bucky’s belt, undoing it and reaching into his slacks to pull out the cock you’d felt pressed against your most sensitive place. He was thick and hot in your hands, feeling like steel wrapped in velvet, and so big your pussy got wetter at the sight of him.

You circled your fingers around his girth while he twitched in your hands, making saliva pool in your mouth as you ached to take him down your throat. While you stroked his cock loosely, Bucky hastily threw his knife down beside you and pushed his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs, your focus getting distracted when his muscular thighs were revealed to you. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his thick thighs bracketing his big, hard cock. It made you want to sit between his legs and worship his cock, but Bucky had other ideas.

He leaned down over you, bracing himself on a forearm beside your head. His lips found yours in a kiss while you continued stroking his length, twisting your hand around his tip and smearing his precum down his length until he pulled away with a groan. “Let me inside that sweet pussy, printsessa,” he rasped, an almost desperate pleading note in his voice. “Gonna stuff you full and fuck you just like my good little slut deserves.”

Moaning and nodding your head, you guided his hard length to your slick folds, rubbing the tip of him through your wetness and teasing your clit until you were both panting against each others’ lips. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you notched the head of his dick at your entrance and his hips pressed forward until the crown of his cock pushed into your tight heat. You both moaned raggedly, staring into each others’ eyes.

“So fucking tight, printsessa, so perfect,” Bucky rasped, dragging his lips across your jaw and planting kisses down the column of your throat. “Feels like you were made for my cock.”

Nodding distractedly, you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders and held on, moaning loudly when he pushed deeper into your fluttering channel. He was so hot and hard, but he was moving too slow and you needed more. Your knees climbed the sides of Bucky’s chest, opening yourself for him as your legs wrapped around his waist so you could urge him deeper. “Please, Jamie,” you whimpered, arching your back and writhing beneath him, trying to take him faster. “Need all of you inside me, need you to fill me up with your big cock, please,” you begged, whining the last word.

A growl tore from Bucky’s throat and he shoved his cock deep, burying himself in your pussy and making you cry out sharply as your tight hole stretched to accommodate his thick length. “Fuck—fuck! Now I know you were always meant to be mine,” he snarled as he filled you up, pausing for a moment to give you time to adjust. When you huffed a confused sound, he went on. “If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly,” he rumbled before sucking the skin of your neck between his teeth hard enough to leave his mark on your body.

Your heart thumped in your chest and you let yourself believe Bucky’s words—it was meant to be. He filled you up so perfectly and you felt so safe and cherished in his arms. “Jamie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his soft brown hair. You chose to believe him, it was meant to be. You were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours. But you had both chosen each other too; you had chosen your fate and met it together.

It only took a moment for that feeling of rightness to sink in and then your body was begging for more of your White Wolf. You rolled your hips in an effort to get him moving, unsure if you could get your lips to work enough to form words. Your walls clasped desperately around Bucky’s thick cock, needing the friction that would drive your pleasure higher.

Bucky recognized your body’s pleas and began moving his hips, at first only rolling in small thrusts, grinding the base of himself against your clit as the tip of him brushed the entrance of your womb. It felt so good, nearly taking your breath away, and yet it wasn’t enough. You wanted him to fill you up and fuck you hard.

“Jamie, please, I need more—fuck me harder, fuck me like your little slut, please,” you begged, your voice raspy with desire.

“Mm,” Bucky hummed, rising up so he hung above you. His darkened gaze roved over your face, taking in the way your expression was twisted with pleasure and need. “You beg so sweetly, printsessa,” he murmured, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth as warm affection shone in his eyes. He pulled his hips back until only the tip of his dick was still inside you before slamming deep into your waiting heat, wrenching a lusty cry from your lips. “Such a gorgeous little slut for my cock.”

All you could do was moan in response as he set a brutal pace, fucking you so thoroughly your mind went blank but for the pleasure that consumed you. You clung to your White Wolf with your arms around his shoulders and your legs circling his waist, your hips rising to meet his with every thrust. You moaned with abandon, unafraid of letting the man who was no longer your enemy hear how good he made you feel.

“That’s it, printsessa, such a good little slut,” Bucky growled out through gritted teeth, his cock plowing into your wet pussy over and over, driving your pleasure higher and higher. “Taking my cock so well,” he murmured in your ear, nipping at the lobe and making you gasp. “Only sluts take it this good.” He dragged his face up to look you in the eye, his gaze intense. “You’re my perfect little slut, aren’t you, printsessa?”

Bucky’s question did obscene things to your body, making your heart riot in your chest and your pussy gush as you gasped for the air you’d need to answer him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, nodding your head for good measure in time to the rhythm of his fucking. “Your slut, Jamie.”

“My slut, my printsessa,” he murmured affectionately, stealing a kiss from your lips. Then he shifted the angle of his body, pushing your thighs up and wider for him, pinning you to the wooden altar with his heavy weight. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, printsessa,” Bucky muttered, his eyes fixed on the spot where your bodies joined. “And then you’re gonna walk out of here with my cum leaking down your thighs—d’you hear me?”

“Fuck yes, please Jamie—cum inside me,” you said on a filthy moan, your head thrashing as your pleasure ratcheted higher. You clung to Bucky’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin to ground you as your mind threatened to float away on a wave of bliss. “Please, Jamie, ‘m so close, I need—please,” you sobbed, not entirely sure what you needed but knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“Shh,” Bucky murmured, pressing kisses to your face before shifting his weight onto his knees. His hand circled your throat, pinning you to the altar. His fingers squeezed the sides of your neck lightly.

Your body settled. Bucky didn’t grip you too hard, but you found it was exactly what you needed. Your eyes opened into slits and you stared up at him, feeling devotion in your heart and knowing it was written plainly across your face. There was nothing you could do to hide it, the White Wolf had you thoroughly undone and vulnerable for him, your soul bared in your eyes. A look of surprise flitted across Bucky’s face before his expression softened and he smiled down at you. Quickly, though, lust overtook him.

“Cum for me,” he rumbled, his free hand finding your clit as he kept pounding into your cunt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you on every thrust and that, along with his fingers mercilessly rubbing your clit, had sparks flaring all over your body. “Cum on my cock like a good little slut, printsessa,” he growled the command. He pressed deep, bullying your clit and squeezing your throat until you were lost.

You came with a choked scream, your body going taut and your hips rising up off the altar to take Bucky’s cock further inside you, as deep as it would go. Pleasure overwhelmed your mind until you were staring mindlessly up at him, consumed by wave after wave of ecstasy sweeping through your body. When your awareness returned, the first thing you saw was the awe on Bucky’s face. You grabbed him and dragged him down for a messy kiss, his cock still pounding into your clenching pussy.

“Cum inside me, Jamie,” you murmured when you pulled away, letting him see your eyes and how desperate you were for him. “Please, cum inside me.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut for a moment like he needed to gather himself, and when he opened them again, they were sparking with determination and lust and something deeper—something you weren’t quite ready to name. “You’re mine, printsessa,” he gritted out, his hips moving faster as he rutted into your still pulsing channel. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you replied, crying out as he slammed into your oversensitive pussy, reveling in the feeling of him using your body to get off. “Always yours, my White Wolf.”

“Your White Wolf,” he growled in affirmation. He shoved his cock inside you, plunging as deep as he could go, his thrusts turning sloppy as he chased his release. After a few more strokes, he came with a loud groan, pressing the tip of his cock against the end of you. His dick twitched as he spilled his seed in your pussy and you moaned softly at the feel of him filling you up, some of his cum leaking out of your hole.

When he was spent, Bucky collapsed on top of you, letting your legs fall around his waist as he lay his head on your still heaving chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight to him. You threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying its softness as you both caught your breath.

After a short while, Bucky picked his head up and looked at you, satisfaction written plainly in the grin on his face. You couldn’t help but smile in return, drawing him in for a kiss. Your White Wolf kissed you tenderly, though it still had a possessive edge you didn’t expect him to ever lose. That was fine with you, it made you feel cherished in a way you never had before.

He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he moved away enough to speak. “We’ve lingered long enough, printsessa,” he said, nuzzling your cheek like he was reluctant to let you get too far away. “Your father deserves to come and collect his dead.”

It was then that you were reminded of the bloodshed in the church and you startled a little, making the mistake of glancing around. Immediately, you were overwhelmed by the carnage and you buried your face in Bucky’s chest. He chuckled, but petted your head soothingly for a moment. Then, he sat up and pulled himself carefully from your body, though you still hissed at the loss of him.

Bucky helped you to sit up, your back to the rest of the church so you didn’t have to look at the evidence of his violence again. The last of your ruined wedding dress fell around you in tatters and your lingerie was discarded, so you were left in nothing but your heels. Bucky eyed your destroyed dress with no small amount of contempt. “Hope you weren’t partial to that dress, printsessa,” he muttered, though his tone held no remorse.

You hopped off the altar with as much bravado as you could muster, pride surging when you landed on your feet and your knees didn’t give out. Although you were confident Bucky would’ve caught you if they had, it was nice to remember you could stand on your own even after he’d made you cum so hard.

“Let my father find it and wonder what you did to me,” you said flippantly, tossing your messy hair over your shoulder, resisting the urge to smooth it down. You knew you looked a sight, standing as bare as the day you were born in the church where you were supposed to be wed, looking freshly fucked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care overmuch.

Catching your eye, Bucky grinned, seemingly enjoying the sight of you naked and defiant. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, bending to steal a kiss. Then he gathered his white shirt from where it had fallen and helped you into it.

You quickly buttoned up the shirt and when you looked back to Bucky, he had his suit jacket thrown over his bare chest, his pants sitting low on his hips. He looked so sexy, you wanted to drop to your knees right there behind the church’s altar and take his cock in your mouth in your own form of worship. You’d clean him up properly and see how deep into your throat you could take him before he came on your tongue.

Bucky let out an appreciative hum, drawing your attention back to his face in time to see him rake his eyes down over your body, barely hidden beneath the sheath of his shirt. “You look like you just got fucked, printsessa,” he commented, possessiveness tinging his tone and a smirk curling the edge of his mouth.

You stepped up to him, running your hands up his chest beneath his jacket, feeling him suck in a breath at your touch, and grinned shamelessly. “That’s because you so thoroughly defiled me, White Wolf,” you murmured, repeating his words back to him. Pressing up on your tiptoes, your lips brushed against his stubbled jaw as you spoke in his ear. “Now get me out of here before I beg you to fuck my face with your fat cock.”

A surprised sound escaped Bucky’s mouth and he dragged you in for a kiss with his hand buried in your hair. It was short and hot, leaving you panting for more, but before you could say anything, Bucky grabbed your hand and led you toward the side door of the church.

The bright sunshine hit your face and you blinked against it, somehow disbelieving it was still daytime. So much had happened in the church, it felt like the outside world should reflect the fact that your entire life had changed—and not in the way you’d thought when you’d entered the building that morning. It took you a moment of blinking to adjust to the bright light of the day and take in your surroundings.

Bucky’s men stood around, watching the area closely with guns in hand. They all stiffened to attention when they realized who had exited the church. When you looked to Bucky, the cruel mask of the White Wolf was back in place. Something about the barely leashed violence in his expression had your core throbbing with need.

“Update,” your White Wolf growled.

A tall man with broad shoulders, black hair and a mean-looking face stepped forward. “No movement yet, but we’ve picked off a few spies,” he reported in a raspy voice. “The old man’s waiting and seeing what we do next.”

“Good,” Bucky said, nodding decisively. “Let’s clear out.” He began to walk toward a bank of SUVs, his fingers still tangled in yours, tugging you along behind him.

You could feel the moment the White Wolf’s men noticed your joined hands, their gazes following your arm to your body, clad only in Bucky’s white dress shirt and your heels. You didn’t know if they could see his cum trickling down your thighs, but you could certainly feel it. You gathered your strength and held your chin high, squaring your shoulders and meeting the gazes of the men around you.

Bucky must’ve noticed the shift in his men too because he stopped and looked around. His eyes fixed on the mean-looking man who had spoken. “There a problem, Rumlow?”

The man called Rumlow didn’t show any emotion, but he paused before speaking like he was deciding if he should. “She’s his daughter,” he said after a moment.

You had to hand it to Rumlow, it wasn’t outright defiance, which you were certain the White Wolf would’ve punished the man for. It didn’t even sound like he was questioning his boss, only pointing out a fact that had clearly given him and the other men pause. You looked to Bucky to see how he’d respond.

The White Wolf was staring at his man with a thoughtful expression, then he turned to you. Your insides lit up at the attention, but you didn’t let it show on your face. “Who do you belong to?” Bucky asked, his voice harsh, though you didn’t flinch.

You almost smiled at the question, but stifled the urge, knowing it was neither the time nor the place to show the affection and happiness bubbling up in your heart. There was a certain amount of theatricality to the world your family and the White Wolf inhabited, and since you’d grown up in it, you could easily play the part Bucky wanted.

So you looked back to Rumlow, then met the eyes of the other men facing you, your chin held high. “I belong to the White Wolf,” you declared. Your voice was loud and clear, ringing out down the street so as many of Bucky’s men could hear you.

Rumlow’s expression shifted somewhat, understanding and a bit of respect in his eyes. He nodded and stepped back, falling in line with the other men. He and the others started to move to follow the White Wolf’s earlier order, but Bucky’s loud voice stopped them.

“Make sure it’s known throughout the city—the princess is mine,” he barked, glaring around at his men. You weren’t sure if it was meant to taunt your father or ensure no one tried to take you as their own prize, but you felt the ripple of fear that went through the crowd of men. It satisfied something in your heart to be claimed so publicly and you finally let a small smile slip out.

A second later, they jumped into action and Bucky smirked with gratification. He turned to you. “Ready to go home, printsessa?” he asked in a quiet voice, too low for anyone else to hear.

You nodded, giving him a small smile, a ghost of the one you wanted to show him. “I’m ready, Jamie—take me home.” You looked at him with nothing but trust and devotion in your eyes and Bucky grinned, the expression appropriately wolfish. He bent and gave you a quick kiss.

Letting Bucky lead you to an SUV, you allowed your mind to wander to what lay ahead for the two of you. Your father would no doubt be unhappy with the fact that you hadn’t been killed in the attack on your wedding since you being alive and in the possession of the White Wolf would only complicate things. He’d be even more furious when he learned you’d declared your loyalty to the enemy.

But you knew Bucky would keep you safe. He was too much a force of nature to be taken down by someone as weak and ill-prepared as your father. So you weren’t worried. You were only excited to start your life with your new man. Your future was finally one you were happy to meet, because you had James Buchanan Barnes at your side. Your White Wolf.

#they shouldve got married #that possessive dominance....i LIVE for #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #mafia bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes

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