#james buchanan barnes x you

[embbarnes]

Roasted Chestnuts. | B.B

summary: Bucky takes to sleeping in the living room, you comfort him with hot cocoa.

warnings: Angst & Fluff | PTSD symptoms | Nightmares | Post accidental injuries

a/n: I hope this technically qualifies, even though it's sort of angsty. But there is fluff! I decided to use a few themes from the list provided and melded them together. Unedited, mistakes to be fixed later lol. ;; wc: 3.3k

Cold sweat and cold weather don't exactly mix.

Neither did the cold, wooden floor of the living room but...he insisted on it ever since he woke up choking you to near unconsciousness, his hands trembling with horror when he realized what he had done. The hardwood became his self-imposed punishment, refusing the comfort of proper bedding.

He couldn't forgive himself for that, his instability taunted him for weeks after that, having to see the bruise around your throat cause by his hand. Every morning he would catch glimpses of the purple-blue marks adorning your precious neck, each glance a reminder of how close he had come to destroying everything he held dear. The guilt ate away at him, manifesting in sleepless nights and countless apologies that could never seem to erase that moment from his memory.

He deserved it; the chill in the air making every bead of perspiration feel like tiny needles against his skin.

Especially his scars.

His shoulder hurt bad during the winter, which wasn't a huge surprise, but he would've appreciated if his body formed a bit of resistance to the cold by now.

Between endless cryofreezing, Siberian training, the prolonged exposure to freezing should have given him some sort of enhanced ability to withstand the cold but...cruelly, almost laughably, he was more vulnerable to the bite of chill now.

It pissed him off, quite frankly.

But right now, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on his annoyance.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to you as he sat there on the cold floor, his body tucked carefully against the chair that stood positioned by the stark wall. He had turned the chair into an improvised shelter of sorts, his upper body deliberately laid close beside it in a way that almost seemed to mimic having another body near him for comfort. The transition had been gradual over the course of several months, he had slowly grown accustomed to sleeping in a proper bed, and more importantly, he had grown used to having you there beside him.

Your warm, protective arms would wrap around his frame each night, and he had found himself free of any hesitation or shame as he tucked himself against your chest, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeat become his personal lullaby, lulling him into peaceful sleep. Better than any goddamn noise machine he could dream of.

But that peace had been shattered after one particularly visceral nightmare that had resulted in him nearly choking the life from you in his sleep-addled state. He found himself unable to bear the thought of sharing a bed with you again, too terrified of what his unconscious mind might make him do.

He thought he was getting better, he was supposed to be better. The words didn't work anymore...therapy was mediocre at best but it was supposed to help him. Yet, after all of that, he still hurt you.

He's still plagued.

Frustrated with himself and the situation, he kicks the chair slightly, causing it to skid a few inches across the worn wooden floor with a harsh scraping sound. Bucky takes a deep breath, his flesh hand instinctively gripping his dog tags - those small pieces of metal that remind him of who he once was - one his own, one Steve’s.

Damnit, Steve. Why didn’t he stay?

The one man who always had his loyalty, his best friend, he felt so abandoned.

Now he had to dump his shit on you. You didn’t deserve this.

Dealing with what remained of Bucky. Dealing with his problems.

Burdening you with his issues.

All alone.

His vibranium hand nervously bundled the thin, threadbare blanket he used to sleep under. The television continued to drone on in the background, playing yet another cheesy Christmas movie that felt hollow and distant. He didn’t like these ones.

He liked the older ones.

They were simpler, easier to grasp. The fantasy of talking snowmen and flying reindeer seemed far better to lose himself in than these modern romantic tales of a cheerful woman who sings perfect carols and inevitably falls for a handsome shop owner...predictable stories that seemed to play on an endless loop.

The warm glow from the Christmas tree cast a gentle, inviting light across the sparse living room, making the empty space feel more like home. The apartment was still largely unfurnished, your current financial situation wasn’t great to say the least. Bucky's couldn’t get a job with his ‘criminal’ background, nor would anyone hire the Winter Soldier, regardless of how good he worked and how well he was with his hands. That left you as the sole provider. The weight of being the only one working pressed heavily on your shoulders, though you never complained.

You were happy to do it, if it meant Bucky could spend time relaxing and not worrying about anything.

Still, he didn’t like it.

The thought of his girl working for the both of you gave him a sour taste in his mouth, his gut tightened as he saw it as just another burden for you. A gentleman deep down, you having to work to support the two of you didn’t do anything but give him even more mental crisis.

Even when you were on the run in Romania, he found odd jobs. He brought food home. He took care of the two of you. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t think you shouldn’t be working because you were a woman, it’s just…he felt horrible. You did so much for him, and all he could do was sit at home and wait for you to come off your shifts. He felt worthless.

And despite the tight budget, you'd worked extra hours so you could afford a Christmas tree for the apartment. While Bucky had initially been indifferent to the idea of holiday decorations, his memories of past Christmases long since faded into a blur. Watching your face light up as you carefully placed each ornament made every penny worth it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creak of floorboards, and he turned to find you peering around the corner of the short hallway that led to your bedroom. "Buck Buck...what're you doin' up?" you murmured, voice thick with sleep. Your hair was charmingly disheveled, and his old henley hung loosely on your frame, the hem nearly reaching your knees. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked slowly, "I heard somethin' out here, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, doll I'm...I'm fine." He exhaled slowly, not exactly confident in his words, shoulders slumping forward as the weight of sleepless nights pressed down on him. His hand still held the dog tags, fiddling with them restlessly as his thumb pad gently traced the engraved names and numbers, a nervous habit he'd developed.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself that?" You asked softly, sitting down beside him on the cold floor, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give him space. "Why don't you come back to bed with me? It's cold out here and that small blanket is not enough... I can see you shivering."

"No." He spat firmly, his jaw clenching with tension, "We've been over this. I'm not going to risk hurting you again. I can't...I won't let that happen."

"It was an accident-" you tried to reason, reaching out instinctively.

"NO!" Bucky snapped suddenly, his volume and tone loud enough to echo off the walls, making you flinch as it startled the sleep out of you. The fear in his own eyes matched yours for a split second.

It was silent for a few beats until finally he found the courage to break it with trembling words.

"I can't...I won't hurt you again. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face - the fear in your eyes when I came back to myself. You can downplay it all you want. The doctors told me how close I came to crushing your trachea. How am I supposed to carry on knowing what I almost did? You still have that dark bruise around your throat, oh...god..." His voice cracked and faded, heavy with anguish. The traumatic memory had carved itself deep into his psyche.

The faceless HYDRA torturers had been replaced in his nightmares, instead, visions of his own hands wrapped around your throat, watching helplessly as the life slowly drained from your eyes.

That was more horrifying than any of HYDRA's torture.

He would willingly submit himself to every cruel experiment, every brutal conditioning session, every moment of agony they had ever put him through - if it meant he could erase that one terrible moment when he had almost become your killer.

"Bucky," you interrupted his thoughts, your hand reaching out hesitantly in the dim light of the room, hovering just inches from his tensed shoulder but not yet making contact. You turned your palm slowly upward toward the ceiling, silently willing him to either take your hand or at least allow you the comfort of touching him. "I promise you, I am fine. Yes, it might've been a bit scary in the moment when it happened, and I understand why you're worried...but I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, not in a million years. It was an accident, nothing more than that."

He shifted uncomfortably under your unwavering gaze, his fingers clutching the deep green blanket even tighter to his chest, drawing it close like armor against both the cold and his own guilt. You could see the slight tremor in his frame, whether from the chilly air or his inner turmoil, you weren't sure. You knew he must be freezing out here in the living room, but if there was one thing you'd learned about Bucky, it was that he could be impossibly stubborn.

No matter how much you yearned to lead him back to the warmth of your shared bedroom, you knew he wouldn't budge an inch, wouldn't dare return to your bed, not while the belief that he might unconsciously harm you still gripped his conscience.

Instead of trying the back and forth of arguing, you decided to do something else. Rising from your spot, you made your way back to the bedroom, your bare feet making soft padding sounds against the aged wooden floorboards that creaked ever so slightly with each step. When Bucky heard you walk away, he assumed you had given up and gone back to bed for the night, so he slowly lowered himself down onto his makeshift sleeping spot, trying to find a comfortable position to attempt sleep.

But your absence was only temporary. Within moments, you had returned.

Your arms were laden with an assortment of blankets and a plush pillow, carried from your bedroom.

"No, doll..." he sat up immediately, preparing to launch into reasons why you shouldn't subject yourself to sleeping on the floor, even if it might be hypocritical. But you possessed every bit as much stubbornness as he did, and you had already made up your mind that he wouldn't have to face this night alone.

"Hush. I'm staying with you, and if that means camping out in the living room, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." You insisted firmly but gently, carefully arranging the blankets and pillow beside his spot. "And if sleep doesn't come easily tonight, then we can always put on a movie to pass the time. But I don't want you to be on your own, you've been torturing yourself for weeks now..."

Bucky looked down at his lap, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his features. "You are such a brat..." He finally replied, his lips pulling into a small, almost reluctant smile. The warmth in his chest grew steadily as he watched you, touched by how adamantly you insisted on sleeping beside him, even if it meant spending the night on the cold floor.

"That's me," you replied with a playful smirk, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now...how about some hot chocolate? If we aren’t gonna sleep, then we might as well have a little treat. Plus, it'll warm you up." You offered, already making your way to the kitchen with determined steps, your mind set on the comforting beverage. "Marshmallows or whipped cream?" You called over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as you deliberately didn't give him any opportunity to decline the offer.

He shook his head slowly, running his hand over his face as an affectionate smile spread across his features, unable to hide how endeared he was by your persistence. "Marshmallows...please," he responded softly.

"And that chestnut flavoring?" You added thoughtfully, observing him still comfortably tucked away on the floor, his form relaxed against the wall. Bucky gave a shy nod, a gentle expression crossing his features, and you couldn't help but smile warmly in return. "We should roast some, I hear people do that this time of year. But I'm not sure why exactly? I haven't had the chance to try them prepared that way before."

You carefully made your way back to where he sat, extending the steaming mug of hot chocolate towards him. The ceramic vessel was filled nearly to the brim, with a generous mountain of tiny marshmallows creating a fluffy white peak on top.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders slightly, reaching up to pluck a few of the dry marshmallows from the pile, popping them into his mouth one by one. "You can eat them plain as a snack," he offered simply, savoring the sweet dissolving treats.

"Yeah, but that seems a bit too plain for chestnuts. How about…a pie? God, I love pecan pie, why not chestnut pie? Or I hear they go good with apples."

"Pie would be really good...you know how much I love your baking," Bucky smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he fondly recalled all the delicious sweet treats you had lovingly prepared throughout the seasons. Apple pie was one of Bucky's all time favorite desserts, and he always lit up when you made it for him. You aren’t a professional baker by any means, but the homemade pastries and treats that came from your kitchen had become one of his most treasured simple pleasures in the world.

You sat nestled against him, your shoulders touching as you both sipped hot chocolate and talked about everything and nothing. The conversation drifted from the gentle snowfall outside to potential weekend activities, from dessert recipes you wanted to try together to movies you both wanted to watch.

Bucky had changed visibly since you crept out to see him, his tense shoulders had gradually loosened, the worried lines around his eyes had softened, and genuine smiles now came more frequently. You both occasionally made playful commentary about the predictable romantic comedy playing on screen, sharing knowing looks as the plot became increasingly formulaic and harder to tolerate.

"Can't we watch something else?" Bucky asked, turning to meet your gaze with a slight grimace, "I'm getting tired of these kinds of movies...at this point, I could practically recite exactly what's going to happen next, line by line."

“What do you mean?” You laughed a little, smiling at him as he rolled his eyes in return.

“Let’s see…it’s either Noel, Carol, or some other Christmas themed name for the main girl, and she always moves back to a hometown or is divorced or lonely or just…wandering through life feeling like something’s missing. Meets a handsome guy, a handy man, a baker, someone she knew from her childhood, and they eventually fall in love after this big Christmas event happens.” Bucky muttered, “And there's always singing! That’s been the plot for the last three movies, I swear.”

"Sure," you responded with another laugh, he hit the nail on the head. You reached forward for the remote and scrolled through channels until you stumbled on one specifically for classic holiday films. "Oh my god, this one! It's from, like...1960." You watched, somewhat amused, as the distinctively vintage stop-motion animation showed Rudolph trudging through the snow, the character's movements charmingly stilted by today's standards. Your finger hovered over the remote button, ready to continue searching.

"No, no...don't change it," he interjected softly, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, "I'd like to watch this one..."

"Really? Alright," you set the remote down and got comfy. These classic films held a special place in your heart, each frame bringing back cherished memories of curling up on the couch as a child, lost in the magic of storytelling and still believing in Santa Claus. "This used to be one of my favorites," you murmured softly, snuggling closer against him. Bucky lifted his right arm, eager to feel your heat against his bare chest. He hadn't experienced watching these movies the same as you had, his past denying him even these small comforts.

It wasn't like HYDRA allowed him a tv.

Watching it now, even without the foundation of the right nostalgia, he was drawn into the film's spell. There was something touching about its simplicity, the way it managed to weave enchantment through every scene despite its less sophisticated approach. Even with its fantastical storyline, it carried an authentic magic that resonated deep within him, something pure and genuine he could instinctively recognize. Much better than the movies he had seen all day.

The first movie seemed to float by in a comfortable haze, and before you knew it, another began to play. These old ones didn’t have a very long runtime, but you forgot just how quick they fly by. The Charlie Brown Christmas movie filled the screen with its familiar charm. The gentle orchestration of the score and soothing tone of the character’s voices set a comfortable mood in the room.

While the movie played, you felt a slight shift in weight beside you. You glanced over and noticed Bucky's empty mug resting forgotten in his lap, old white foam from melted marshmallows sticking to the rim, his features softened as his eyelids had finally drooped closed. His weight leaning more against yours, and you carefully adjusted yourself.

"Oh, Bucky..." you whispered tenderly to yourself, watching as the exhausted man finally succumbed to sleep, the warm hot chocolate having done its job exactly as you'd hoped it would. Gently, you removed the empty mug from where it rested precariously on his lap and eased him down into a more comfortable position, making sure his head was properly supported by the plush pillow beneath it. You then took your time meticulously arranging the thick blankets over his body, paying particular attention to his metal arm, ensuring it was completely covered.

The winter months were especially difficult for him, the cold made the connection points of his prosthetic ache terribly, so you made sure that every inch of the metal limb was thoroughly insulated against the chill.

Damn, you should really invest in a heated blanket…they were just so expensive.

You were determined to get one for him though.

After adjusting the television volume just a little to create a soft, ambient background noise, you settled yourself beside his sleeping form. You snuggled in close, your hand moving in slow, soothing strokes up and down the broad expanse of his back.

Even in the depths of sleep, he instinctively sought out your warmth, shifting closer until his face was buried against your chest, his arm wrapping around you in a secure embrace. Though the weight and coolness of the metal arm pressed against you was initially a bit uncomfortable since the henley rode up a bit, but you quickly adjusted. Vibranium was nice, once it warmed it would stay that way for a long time.

But the same vise versa, meaning you really should get a heated blanket soon.

For now, this would do. You'd be the heat he needed, even if it meant staying with him on the floor.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

@buck-star 's Fluffy Winter Event.

[frostironfudge]

Devour - Bucky Barnes

Summary: the new pics of seb have me in a vice grip so here is Bucky on a Mediterranean getaway with you

Pairing: mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 880

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sm/ut, or/al fem receiving, dirt/y talk, allusions to previous smu/tty times, d/s vibes, sorta mafia bucky?, sorta soft moments, also prinţesă means princess (romanian)

A/N: this picture got everything to life for this drabble @sebsgirl71479 thank you for this picture

Main Masterlist

The heat is sweltering.

Drops of sweat mimic the condensation on your pink drink’s glass. Taking another sip you grumble the ice watering down the sweet and sour concoction. 

“Something amiss?” Bucky’s tone is light teasing from behind you. 

“Drinks all watered down.” You pout, still not turning to look at him, too comfortable in the lounge chair, kindle resting on your thigh. 

The breeze finally comes in drawing out a sigh from you and your eyes close. Soon enough the sun’s heat diminishes and your breath hitches. 

The scent of amber and bergamot fills your senses urging your eyes open. Bucky leans over you, gold sunglasses perched atop his head.

Your eyes trail over his stubble growing in, as he swallows you watch his throat and then follow that trail to the necklace that half dangles still caught in his white tank top. 

That same necklace that grazed your kiss bitten lips last night, soothing the heat spreading over your skin. 

An easy smile on his face, his ring clinks against the glass. “Here,” he says handing you the replacement drink and he stands, “Can’t have my best girl pouting can I?” 

You roll your eyes and he pinches your cheek a habit he formed early on both out of endearment and knowing it annoys you. 

You admire his outfit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Fuck the drink you want to drink your man in. 

“See something you like prinţesă? You have that look on your face.” Azure eyes that put the Mediterranean seas to shame glint with mischief. 

“Oh, I see something I love.” You flirt back, admiring the way his eyes crinkle as his grin takes over. 

“A moment ago,” He returns to his original spot, the one where he hovered over you.

“You seemed as though you saw something you want to devour.” He smirks, head dipped low, lips brushing below your ear, you whimper. 

The pendant of his necklace brushes over your sternum. Cold against warm.

“Bucky—,” Your words meld into a moan when his lips trail down your neck, he leaves open mouthed kisses and your hands find his shirt tugging on it wanting him closer. 

“A little temptress in this swimsuit of yours,” his larger palm traces from your knee up your thigh and you arch but he only continues over your body till he pinches your hardened nipple through the fabric, “Fuck.” 

He reclined the lounge chair further back, caging you in, your leg now wrapped around him. 

Bucky’s lips are on yours, needy, frantic, cock straining against his pants and your hands wandering but pulling him closer. 

He chuckles into the kiss as your fingers aid in the fall of his sunglasses and his hair coming loose from the bun. He loves how needy you become for him. 

How beautiful you look sun kissed and kiss bitten from the night before all of his marks proudly displayed across your chest, shoulder, the one he left on your inner thigh. 

Bucky growls as a particular grind of his hips makes you moan as your clit begs for more attention. 

“Please, Bucky, please,” You plead pushing the soft blue shirt off of his shoulders. 

“Want to taste you, my temptress.” He cups your jaw, thumb stroking your lips, you suck on the tip of his finger. 

“I want to taste you too.” You nip at the flesh, Bucky smirks above you. 

“I’d have whipped this outfit out sooner.” He laughs when you huff frustrated, then groans as you grind your hips to his, smirking up at him when he affixes you with a pointed glare to behave. 

“I’ll eat you out right here, prinţesă.” He says in warning, hand moving to cup your mound. He can feel the heat of your skin, his own favourite concoction waiting between your thighs. 

“Is that supposed to scare me?” You raise a brow, “Because if I remember right, no one else sees what belongs to the White Wolf.” 

His eyes blaze with something deeper than lust, his possessiveness and protectiveness for you a known fact in his ruthless world. 

“Hmm, well if anyone does see,” He kisses your cheek, then trails his lips down your neck, over your chest the warmth of his mouth preceded by the cool necklace over your abdomen. Bucky settles between your thighs, pushing them apart but pulling you close. 

Nose brushing over your clothed cunt and the sight is so erotic you can’t help but moan. 

“If anyone does see you pleading and pleasing me they know you are mine temptress. As they should.” 

The fabric is peeled away and your folds are soaked, he hums pleased before his tongue runs over your aching cunt. 

You keen as his lips latch onto your clit, your fingers tangle in Bucky’s hair. 

“Which one of us is in for a treat?” Bucky questions rhetorically as you tremble beneath him, his rings digging into your thighs. 

Bucky moans, at your taste, “We’re to remain here my temptress. I want to have my fill. You will give me how ever many I want won’t you?” 

You nod.

“My good fucking girl.” He praises, mouth back on you, your moans pleasing his ears and your taste satiating as well as growing his hunger for you. 

-x-x-x-x-

Bucky Taglist: @slutforsexyseabass @almostcontentcreator @stevesmewmew

[arcane-vagabond]

Trapped in Silk: Chapter One

Trapped in Silk: Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The world has been turned on its head ever since news spread that vampires are not only very real, but many have walked the earth undetected for centuries. You keep to yourself, head down and out of everyone's way. That is, until you bump into a stranger while avoiding a group of men chasing after you. You think you've seen the last of this stranger, only to run into him once more. Your life is turned upside down as he envelopes you into his life and into his riches. Are you a passing fancy, or are you the latest addition to his treasure trove? Only time will tell. (Vampire!AU)

Content Warning: Reader is chased, Derogatory names directed at reader, Creepy men being creepy men, Cursing, Blood, Dismemberment, Vampires, Pet names, Threats, Flirting, Awkward Reader, Reader making not the best decisions. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed something!

Word Count: 3.1k

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

You cursed lightly under your breath at the sight of the group of men standing around the entrance to the convenient store. Normally, you wouldn’t have stopped, but you had been too busy to make your weekly grocery run on Sunday, and you were fresh out of pretty much anything to eat in your tiny apartment. So, it was either stock up on the essentials or live off of fast food until the weekend.

You wish you’d let yourself starve.

They weren’t a rowdy bunch, and perhaps that’s what made you so nervous to approach. These men weren’t like the groups of loud college boys that hung around this same store. No, these men had an edge to them, something you couldn’t quite place. A sensation pulled at your gut, and you frowned, the sensation not altogether unfamiliar. You had experienced the same feeling several times throughout your life, almost like a sixth sense. You had learned to ignore it, keeping your head down and wanting little to do with the limelight that came with pursuing sensations like those. You’d seen the psychics on TV from time to time—usually when your grandmother had them playing in the background growing up—and you wanted no part in it. You weren’t psychic, you were just really good at guessing.

Maybe if you kept saying it, you’d believe it one day.

You pulled your coat tighter, more to hide yourself than to stave off the early winter chill that crept along the sidewalk, and you tilted your head down as you marched past the group of men.

You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t linger to let them get a good look. Blinking against the shock of the fluorescents, you wrinkled your nose as the warmth of the convenience store stung at the apples of your cheeks. You surveyed the aisles before grabbing a small hand-held basket and moving towards the frozen section. It wasn’t ideal, but the convenience of pre-made food would have to do until you could make an actual grocery run.

It wasn’t that you thought you were too good for the processed food, you just liked the rituals of cooking every night along with making your lunch for the next day. It was a relaxing part of your day, a sense of accomplishment that you didn’t have to associate with your menial job.

Your eyes wandered down the aisles as you passed, stopping in front of the pre-made food section. The sandwiches didn’t look too bad, maybe a little bland, but they’d surely get you through the week. You picked a couple of roast beef and turkey ones, turning your attention to the different bags of chips available. You wanted to keep your fast food runs to a minimum, but the convenience store only offered so much for you to choose from. With a sigh, you grabbed a couple of bags of chips, not really caring what kind you grabbed.

There were a couple of other people milling about the store, some casting nervous glances towards the exit—not that you blamed them, of course.

You walked as casually as you could towards the register, the older man paying you little mind as he began to scan your items. You shifted on your feet nervously, hands clenching and unclenching in your coat pockets as you gave another quick glance towards the doors. Maybe if you covered your face enough��

“Did you drive here?”

You glanced up at the clerk, a wary grimace on his face as he followed your line of sight. You pressed your lips together with a shake of your head. No, it didn’t make sense to have a car in the city—not when public transport was readily available. Maybe if you lived further out in the suburbs.

“No,” You replied. “It’s only a couple of blocks to my apartment though. I’ll manage.”

“I’ve tried calling the cops a couple of times,” the clerk continued, scanning the last of your items. “Said those guys keep scaring my customers, but they don’t do anything. Even threatened to fine me for wasting their time, the bastards.”

You made a sympathetic noise in return, taking the bags from him and bracing yourself for the inevitable. Maybe you should have just gone home, come back on your lunch break tomorrow. It was too late now.

“Stay safe, miss,” the clerk called after you, worry creasing his brow as he leaned over the counter to watch your retreat. You offered him the ghost of a smile before pulling your coat closer, hoping the lapels would obscure your face enough in the shadows.

The automatic door chimed as you stepped through, a gust of wind whipping around you as you stepped out onto the walkway. The sharpness of the cold dug into your skin, clawing its way down to your bones and sending a shiver up your spine as you gasped at the sudden sensation. Mistake number one.

“Well, hey, sugar,” purred one of the men, sliding off of his perch atop the bike rack, a leering grin on his face. Dark hair ruffled in the wind, casting shadows across his face but doing little to hide the sinister look in his eye. “You look cold. How ‘bout we help warm you up.”

Mistake number two was assuming he wouldn’t follow you as you turned on your heel to walk in the opposite direction.

“Oh, now don’t be like that, baby,” he called after you, a couple of chuckles ringing out from his friends, the sounds of footsteps echoing behind you. Mistake number three was not running back inside the convenience store to call a friend to take you home.

You picked up your pace slightly, trying not to draw attention to your rising panic as your heart hammered in your chest. Your nostrils flared as you tried to keep your breathing even, your groceries starting to feel heavy in your hands.

“Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you!”

You broke out into a run, your bags jostling at your sides until one by one they fell from your grip, colliding with the sidewalk below, but still you kept running. Your feet carried you as fast as they could, lungs burning as your eyes scanned the streets for signs of anyone who could help you.

This is the city, you thought. How is there no one walking around?

You supposed most people tried to stick to the safety of the indoors now that the new threat of vampire kind was out in the open. No one wanted to be the unsuspecting victim of a thing they had long thought to be a myth.

“When I catch you,” snarled the man behind you, closer than you would have liked, “you’re going to regret ever even being born.”

You willed your feet to move faster, willing the shadows to hide you from the impending threat behind you. How could you have been so stupid? Why didn’t you call for a ride?

Help me, you thought. Your muscles ached and threatened to spasm as you continued your sprint. The buildings began to blur together, all looking the same through the haze of your fear and tears. You choked on a breath, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as you veered right.

Please.

Your teeth chattered as the wind rushed around you, your nose and lips growing numb the longer you stayed out in the cold.

Someone help me.

Could you hide? Would you have enough time to duck into an alley to find a spot, or would they find you still? Would anyone answer their speakers if you rang. Would you even have time to explain what was happening?

Please.

You scrunched your eyes, pressing forward as you rounded left on the corner, only making it a few feet before you ran into a wall. You grunted, stumbling back and almost falling on your rear before a set of strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. Not a wall, or at least not an inanimate one.

Hands settled on your waist, and you cowered for a moment, thinking one of the men had caught you. You gazed up, meeting cerulean blue as they stared down at you, an unreadable look on the handsome stranger’s face. For a moment, you felt relief as you realized that the man in front of you was, in fact, not one of the men who had been chasing you. Your shoulders sagged in relief for just a moment, your hands tightening in the stranger’s black shirt.

A cold breeze kicked up, sending another shiver through you and cooling the hot stream of tears that ran down your face. You shivered at the sensation, subconsciously leaning into the stranger for warmth. He continued to study you, a furrow in his brow that seemed more perplexed than put out. The stranger opened his mouth as if to say something, stopping as the sound of feet hitting the pavement came up behind you.

“That bitch must have-” The other man stopped, his companions slowing behind him as well. A sneer curled on his lips as his dark eyes spotted you. “Well, well. Looks like you had the bright idea that it was better to come with us than run away.”

The stranger tightened his hold on you, a low growl sounding in his throat as you trembled. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, the irises seeming to almost glow as he listened to the man in front of you.

“Get behind me,” he murmured, guiding you to stand behind him. Your body trembled at the sound of his voice, not from fear, but from the way it rang in your ears—like warm liquid. You allowed him to maneuver you, his hands moving from your hips up to grab the lapels of your coat, pulling them tighter around you.

“Now close your eyes,” he continued, the lilt in his tone hard to resist. You obeyed, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as his hands smoothed over your shoulders. “Don’t look until I tell you to, no matter what you hear, okay?”

You nodded, earning a low hum.

“Words, draga mea.”

“Yes,” you managed, voice sounding small even to your ears. Fingertips danced across your jaw lightly before pulling away.

“Good girl.”

You sensed more than felt him pulling away, your body swaying towards him. You scolded yourself internally at your reaction to this stranger.

Must be the adrenaline, you thought.

“Look, pal,” the man chasing you snickered, “we don’t want any trouble. Listen, I’ll even let you have her after we’ve had our-”

His words cut off with a sickening, wet sound followed by silence. A moment passed before all hell broke loose around you.

“What the fuck?” The man shrieked, and you couldn’t help but open your eyes, letting out an involuntary gasp at the sight. The man’s left hand was missing, spurts of blood shooting out as he grasped the stump with his right hand, leaning over in pain.

“What the fuck?” He repeated, dark eyes wide in shock as they glanced from the stump that used to be his hand, up to the tall figure in front of him.

“Dude!” Shouted one of his companions, the burly man slowly backing up as he looked at the stranger in front of him. “It’s a fucking blood sucker!”

“That’s right,” the handsome stranger said, inspecting the blood that coated his gloved hand, head tilting as if considering something. “I’m a ‘blood sucker.’ So, if you want to keep your lives, I suggest you run.”

The men stood paralyzed, limbs visibly shaking as they stared at him. You couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same in that moment, even with his ire directed elsewhere. The stranger let out an irritated sigh, rolling his shoulders as he fixed the group of men with a less than impressed look before waving them off with a flick of his wrist.

“Now.”

The men didn’t hesitate this time, turning and running like their lives depended on it, and you supposed they did. You startled as the handsome stranger turned back to face you, a disapproving look on his face as he saw your eyes wide open.

“Draga mea,” he admonished, walking over to you slowly, ignoring the way you tensed up as his attention was fixated on you. He stripped his gloves slowly, pocketing them as he stopped in front of you. Cool fingers traced your jawline, moving to cup your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin up.

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut,” he tutted, thumb running along your bottom lip. You gasped at the sensation, eyes growing wide at his familiarity before gathering your wits about you long enough to take a step away from him.

He’s still a stranger, you reminded yourself, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. And a vampire to boot. Don’t let your guard down.

The man in front of you smirked, as if able to read your mind, and for a moment you wondered if he could. You squared your shoulders, clearing your throat as you looked him in the eye. The smirk grew into a lop-sided grin as he watched you, a kind of fondness lighting up his gaze.

“Thank you for your help,” you said, hugging your coat tighter around you, suddenly very aware of the winter chill that surrounded you. “I should get going though.”

You began to walk away, stopping as the stranger took a step towards you, his grin replaced with another frown.

“Alone?” He questioned.

“Yes,” you replied, watching him warily. The man shook his head, coming up to stand beside you.

“That won’t do, draga mea,” he purred. “Let me walk you home.”

“Look,” you turned to him, feeling the irritation bubble up inside you at his insistence. You stopped as you realized you didn’t know this man’s name.

“Bucky,” he supplied, a twinkle in his eyes as he peered down at you. You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes to keep from making a complete fool of yourself.

“Bucky,” you repeated. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you saving me from those creeps-”

“You’re welcome,” he ginned, leaning forward.

“Because I do,” you continued, pointedly ignoring him. “But I’ve already taken up enough of your time, and I’m really not that far from my apartment.”

“Nonsense,” he waved you off. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t escort you home? To make sure that you’re safe?”

You hummed, crossing your arms and eyeing him as he gave you another boyish grin. You could point out the fact that he was a vampire on top of being a stranger, that was two strikes against him. As if reading your mind once more, Bucky put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he vowed. You stared at him for another moment before sighing.

“Right,” you muttered, starting the walk towards your apartment. Bucky fell into step next to you, an easy silence falling between the two of you. It was Bucky who broke the silence first.

“What were you even doing out here in the dark on your own?”

You gave him a sharp look from the corner of your eye.

“I needed groceries,” you told him, stopping dead in your tracks with a groan. Bucky arched a brow at you in question as you grimaced.

“My groceries,” you pouted, running a hand through your hair. “I dropped them after those guys…”

Bucky made a sympathetic noise, nodding his head in understanding.

“Do you want to go back?” He asked, gesturing towards the way the two of you had just came. “We can get you some things to replace all of it.”

“No,” you sighed, feeling the weariness seep into your bones after a long day and an even longer night. “No, thank you. I think I just want to go home.”

“You’re sure?” He asked, blue eyes studying you. “It’s not a problem.”

“I’m sure,” you smiled, though you knew it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate it, but I have work in the morning, and it’s already late.”

“Alright then,” Bucky nodded, falling back into step with you. The silence was filled with tension, but for what reason, you couldn’t place. You felt his eyes on you the entire time, studying you still as you hunched your shoulders to try and hide from him. What was he looking at? Was there something on your face? Was he planning on how to best trap you and drink you dry? Was he just toying with you at this point?

“Your heart is pounding, draga mea,” he purred, his hand brushing against your coat sleeve. “What has you so worked up?”

“N-nothing,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Bucky hummed, a twitch of his lips your only indicator that he found this whole situation amusing. You rounded another corner, breathing out a sigh of relief as you spotted your apartment. Your gait quickened, Bucky matching your pace easily until you stopped at the stairs leading up to the entryway. You stepped up onto the first step, turning to face Bucky with a bashful smile.

“Well,” you gestured back behind you, “this is me.”

Bucky arched a brow at you, an amused smirk on his face as you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” He questioned, that familiar smirk taking purchase on his lips once more. You spluttered, eyes growing wide as you tried to think of how to answer. Bucky’s smirk transformed back into that boyish grin once more.

“Kidding, draga mea,” he chuckled. You scowled at him, though there was no real heat behind it.

“Well,” you blew out a breath, “thanks for walking me home and, um, saving…me.”

“No thanks necessary,” he assured you. “But, I would like your name.”

Your cheeks grew even hotter at the realization that you had never actually given this man your name. You supplied it, and he repeated it in a low rumble, as if tasting it on his tongue.

“It suits you, I think,” he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and shooting a wink your way. “Well, I’ll see you around, doll.”

He backed up, eyes trained on you as a devilish smirk stretched across his lips before he turned around and continued on his way. You watched after him until he disappeared around the corner, blowing out a breath as you looked up at the starless sky above. Part of you hoped you never saw him again, but another, darker part of you prayed you did.

A/N: And here's chapter one! The man, the myth, the legend! Bucky is so interesting to write, and I'm excited to delve into his character and see what kind of person he's going to be! Can't wait to hear thoughts!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[cacrowphony]

Imagine being Bucky's baker girlfriend.

Bucky loves your pastries. In fact, he had stopped buying pastries in the supermarket. He only eat yours now.

He always watches you bake in the kitchen, he loves seeing you in that cute apron, your smile on your face, the flour on your cheek.

He loves being your beta tester when you try new recipe.

But what he love more ? Licking the cream or chocolate off your fingers once your done. He'll take your hand and bring each fingers into his mouth, licking them until they're spot clean. All while looking straight into your eyes, groaning in pleasure.

After that it usually end with you on the kitchen counter wearing nothing but your cute apron as Bucky fuck you senseless, whispered and grunting to your ear how good and tasty you are while his huge cock pounds you and his balls slap your ass. He'll make sure to cum fully in you, to fill you each of his enormous loads.

Because after all, Bucky may adore each of your pastries, but you remain his favorite of all time

[cosmos-coma]

Winter Mountain Soldier Spy - Part 1

A/N: I'M BACK. I've been stewing on and writing this idea out for an entire year now and I'm finally ready to put out the first chapter! I'm REALLY excited for this piece because I really wanted to make it self indulgent and more applicable to who I am and what I do. I am a naturalist and I live in lonely wooded mountains and I wanted to really reflect that. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x F!Reader

Words: 3747

Summary: The Winter Soldier, armed with only a knife and his fragmented memories finally flees HYDRA's grasp. Bloody and fading, he stumbled through the woods and countryside to find safe refuge.

You think yourself a simple woman. You live in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by deep woods and farm fields and you're happy. It's a sleepy little place, hardly any excitement to go around, but you're happy to call it home. When driving home on the empty country road you encounter the last thing you expect: a man stumbling from the woods, bleeding out and wary of anything that moves. You try to take the soldier home, but will he accept your help?

And even If he does… Will he stay?

Bucky Masterlist | AO3

Like what I do? Consider buying me a Coffee!

________

Flecks of snow danced along the wind, dusting the forest floor in a pristine blanket of white that perfectly blended his dark figure into the rocks and surrounding woods. Cold, biting air settled around him like an old friend, his breath puffing out like chimney smoke, but he did not feel it. 

A raven cawed its passing overhead- a grim reminder of exactly what he was here for. He watched his target move through the scope; male, average height, middle-aged, unremarkable in just about every way- save for the fact that he happened to be in HYDRA’s way. 

‘A man… not just a target.’ The Winter Soldier reminded himself in an odd thought, but he knew better than to say it out loud. The last time he did, it didn’t end well. 

‘There are civilians-‘ he paused, wincing instinctively at the pain that used to follow, he corrected himself, ‘There are obstacles on the premises.’ His target was with their family, surrounded by bodies who had been getting in the way all evening- all evening until now. 

 ‘Proceed as intended,’ his handler replied, their voice void of any remorse for their hand in this bloodshed.

His finger ran over the trigger, but remained hesitating, ‘They’re children….’ 

They had him wiped mere seconds after that mission’s debriefing, but- whether fortunately or unfortunately- they did not wipe him well enough. Fragments of thoughts and memories of the waking weeks before remained like scattered puzzle pieces. Now all he had left was to put them back together. 

He’d been discovering more and more of these fragments as of late- remembering pieces of missions here and there, things he’d done…. And blood he’s spilled. Yet these memories never go very far back, a few months at most, and he was beginning to wonder just how much was still locked away. 

“I said: Soldier, do you copy?” The voice in his earpiece interrupted, slicing through his thoughts and bringing him back to the task at hand. “Prepare the machines, we may need a wipe upon debrief...” he heard his handler continue in the background.

“I copy.” He was quick to reply, his tone even and cold just as it always was. He couldn’t risk another wipe; he had been quiet and obedient to a T to keep his changes under the radar. He just needed to hold out until the time was right.

“Finish your job and get back here for debriefing.” 

His finger twitched on the trigger.

“Yes, Sir.”

——- 

The world was painted in various shades of black, white, and muted browns, all blending together as you drove through the winding country road. The sky was a blanket of low gray clouds, tiny droplets of rain making their slow descent like dust from a shaken-out quilt. Fog crept down the mountainsides like an ancient creature scouring the earth, its breath leaving ghostly wisps that lasted long after the creature had moved on. 

You hummed, half-singing the lyrics to a song you didn’t even realize was stuck in your head. You tried to listen for the patter of rain against your windshield, but even that was muted, too soft to even leave an audible mark.

This was one of your favorite types of weather- a midwinter rain. Perhaps it was something about the way it melted the snow back into what it once was, making the cycle whole again. Or perhaps you just liked the dreary weather, and there wasn’t any more to it than that.

Wide open fields expanded to the right of you, sectioned off by old stacked-stone walls and whatever old trees had taken root there decades before. To the left of you lay steep forested mountain, the ground littered with rotting leaves and brightened only by the still green ferns that poked out of the melting snow. Mossy rocks of all sizes covered the mountainside, providing texture and support for the fallen trees as well as giving credence to the local phrase that there were ‘two rocks for every dirt’.

Nodding along to the quiet music now knowingly stuck in your head, you took the last sharp turn toward home when- 

SCREECH

You slammed on your brakes, nearly standing straight up on the pedal as you came to a screaming halt, your bumper coming just shy of the large dark figure that stumbled wildly into the road. At first, you’d thought it was a massive black bear- albeit out of season- until the figure slowly clambered up onto its two legs and turned to face you.

This was no bear. 

His cold, distant blue eyes seemed to bore right through you, leaving nothing hidden as he scanned you through the windshield. Long strands of dark, shoulder-length hair framed what you could see of his face, the rest hidden behind a rigid, muzzle-like mask. Even then you still found him… oddly handsome-for a man who had just stumbled from the woods.

Broad yet slumped shoulders drew your eyes next- the way they stretched and pulled his leather jacket with each labored breath. His right side had a full sleeve, sitting snuggly around a muscular arm while the other side was completely bare, showing off a silvery, plated prosthetic the likes of which you’d never seen before. He looked like a soldier, a man on a mission - but as his hand pulled away from his side you began to guess that was not quite the case- not anymore. His hand came away a blazing crimson as blood coated every inch of his palm and began to steam against the cool air. It looked like he had been trying to apply pressure as he ran- and from the looks of it, it was not working.

“Fuck…,” you whispered, quickly putting on your hazard lights and jumping out of the car. Thank god this road was always empty. “Are you okay? What-What happened? Did you-“ Your words faltered as you spotted other wet streaks running down his jacket, fitted with bullet holes above each one. Glancing briefly into the woods you spotted the scant red trail left in his wake, following it with your eyes until it ran out of sight. Blood continued to pour out of him even now as his pulse hammered on. How on earth had he still been running like this…? 

“You’re hurt-“ you said, stepping toward him with your hand outstretched.

Blue eyes widened in a flash of momentary fear as he took a staggering step back, trying to keep his distance and biting back a grunt of pain as it jolted up his side. “I’m fine,” he spoke firmly through the mask, his voice far rougher than you had imagined, or was it just the exertion? Fingertips hovered over the knife hidden in his belt as his feet steadied into a defensive stance, repeating, “I’m fine….” 

“You’re not fine...! You’re bleeding out!” You exclaimed, “I’m not here to hurt you, okay? Please, just let me drive you to a hospital or-“

“No-“ he rushed, a slight panic hidden in his tone that he was quick to extinguish before continuing, “No hospitals….” 

Slowly you nodded and held your hands up, glancing down at your feet as you risked another small step toward him, “Okay… Alright, that’s fine. No hospitals then-“

His fingers glided over the handle of his knife, but for some reason, his instinct refused to draw it. Perhaps it was the disarming softness in your expression…  or…. Or was it the loud breath echoing in his ears? Unaware at first that they were his own they now became something overwhelming, taking over his senses as they ebbed and flowed shallowly. When did he start breathing so hard? Has he always been moving this slow…? And Why… Why were his thoughts… lagging…?

“-Let me take you to my place instead.” You suddenly offered, surprising even yourself as you took another slow step forward, yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself as you continued, “It’s just up the road here.” You pointed beyond him, “I can patch you up and then you can leave whenever you want, okay? No hospitals. No doctors. Just please let me help you try to survive this….” 

The Soldier’s jaw clenched as you finally came within arm’s reach, his eyes searching and scanning for any semblance of a threat in you. But there was none. All he saw were your big eyes; Soft, round, and… earnest. It wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with- seeing or feeling- But between the blood still weeping from his wounds and the way his vision was beginning to swim in his eyes he wasn’t sure he had a choice anymore.

Slowly he nodded, pulling his hand away from the knife and bringing it back to its place on his side, “Your place…” he breathed heavily between his words, “No hospitals….”

“No hospitals,” you agreed with a short nod, moving even slower this time as you reached out again and laid your hand on his cool metallic shoulder. Like nervous prey, his wide eyes watched your every move as you came up beside him, your hands carefully placed between the bullet holes to support him.

He stepped forward on his own at first, his movements seeming to insist that he could do it himself, that he was still fine, but as his feet began to stumble toward the next step his cold metal hand shot out for your support. His movement still felt stiff and distanced now under your supportive touch, yet you found him leaning into you more and more as you helped him towards the car.

Once the stranger sat securely in the passenger seat you hopped into your still-idling car and sped off through the rest of the empty winding roads. 

You tried hard not to let yourself get distracted as you drove, yet you still found yourself stealing glances at the handsome stranger. He had finally relaxed into the seat, his head falling back against the headrest as he took in heavy breaths. Though blood still seeped from his open wounds, you grew hopeful as his breath began to even out; with any luck, it’ll keep him from bleeding out in your care.

You lived along a quiet semi-dead-end road, with only a few houses here and there that sat occupied by older couples you had yet to actually see. You were fortunate to be where you were, with no neighbors close enough to bother you and town a good 30 minutes away, you could live in relative peace and solitude.

Pulling to a stop in front of your old farmhouse you quickly hopped out to help him in, finding his rather dense weight leaning heavier on you now than before. His adrenaline must’ve finally passed and now he was beginning to fade. You weren’t sure how many waking minutes he had left- let alone if you could continue carrying him.

You needed to work fast.

“Come on, big guy- we’re almost there…” You urged as you tucked yourself under his thick metal arm. He didn’t fight this time as you slipped your arm around his torso, half-walking and half-dragging his heavy feet inside. He grunted half-heartedly as you entered the house, looking around through slow-blinking eyes.

“Okay, we’re almost- It’s right over there- fuck… !” You felt his knees begin to buckle beneath him, tugging the both of you down. Thankfully the coffee table was already nearby and, though it was a struggle, you managed to pivot and slowly lower him onto the table, leaving him in an upright slump.

Tired blue eyes looked up at you- your relentless efforts and your heavy breaths as you took a second to recover. His lips parted beneath his mask; he wanted to say something, but even he wasn’t sure what it was. But before any noise had the chance to spill from his lips you were off again, the sounds of you rummaging through drawers and cabinets evident as you went throughout the house.

“Aha!” you exclaimed in victory as you ran back to your patient, the first aid kit held proudly in hand.

 You approached the stranger once more, kneeling down, “We need to get this mask off first, okay? You need to breathe properly…” You explained as you reached toward his face. With a flash of silver, you felt cool metal wrapped around your wrist; impossibly strong fingers held you with surprising delicacy. Though fear dwelled in his exhausted eyes, his touch held no malice, only that of caution. 

For a brief moment, the two of you stood in silence, fixed in place by each other's unyielding gaze until your hand finally continued on its path. Though his grip loosened, his touch remained steady on your skin as you disconnected the mask with a click, and slowly pulled it away. 

You prayed he didn’t hear your quiet gasp as you finally gazed upon him. Soft blushed lips, protected from the winter’s harsh cold, lie parted as he breathed through the radiating pain. His sharp jaw and shallow cleft chin were roughened with days-old stubble, perfectly suiting his disheveled look. 

Trying to focus your attention back on the fading man in your care, you carefully peeled away the blood-soaked jacket and shirt, unleashing a strong whiff of iron along with it. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you looked over the man stranger below you, trying not to let your mind dwell on his state of undress. ‘NO! No, getting distracted now! Focus..!’’ You yelled at yourself internally, reining your thoughts back into place as you went about patching up the gruesome wounds.

He had been hit 3 times; once in his shoulder, once in the side, and once right above his hip. Thankfully the one on his hip seemed to go straight through, but the other two were not as lucky. You’d have to go in through his back and dig each and every piece out. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your tweezers dug through his flesh for every fragment you could find. It took all your composure to ignore the way each sickening squelch turned your stomach, but somehow you managed to prevail. “You were shot in the back…? ” You prodded, trying to keep him awake as you pulled out the last of the pieces. “You must’ve pissed someone off real bad….” 

His head bobbed shallowly, “Something like that…,” his brows drew together in pain, but otherwise kept his practiced expression. Ever observant eyes and craning neck tried to watch you as best he could over his shoulder, but to little avail. 

It’s your touch that concerned him now; like a taser, each brush of your fingers sent lightning across his skin. Its warm, crackling sensation ran throughout his body like a storm cloud charging up for its final strike. It was a new sensation for him, the way his skin grew warm and his heart stirred- it had never happened before, and yet still felt so deeply familiar- as if in another life he’d known it by name. 

Did you feel it too? The thrum of energy deep in your bones? The kind that both put you at ease and made your heart bounce off its walls? The kind that soothed your inner storm yet still left the waves running passionately for the shore?

He grunted, digging the heel of his palm into his forehead as he attempted to wrangle his thoughts. ‘It’s the blood loss talking. Nothing more…’ he assured himself, his metal hand moving to clamp tighter over the still-seeping wound of his hip. The pain would ground him, force him to think clearly again, of that much he was sure.

“You okay?” You asked, your worry evident as you smoothed the medical tape over his skin “I’m almost done with your back and then I can move on to your hip….”

It felt like his mind was being torn in two, warring with itself as it tried to determine whether or not he could really trust you. “ Fine… I’m fine,” he barely assured.

He couldn’t afford to trust anyone- not yet. He was on the run now and who knows how far HYDRA’s claws reached or who they had already sunk them into… but as you moved to settle before him, a small smile on your lips as you brushed his metal hand aside- he wanted to.

 He’s never wanted anything more.

You simply nodded, not wanting to press him any further, and gently pushed his hand out of the way, revealing the last of his wounds. Eyes followed your every movement as you secured the last bandage, each accidental brush of your fingers against his skin, each firm press of the gauze against the staunched wound.

 He wanted to trust you.

“There… that should be the last bandage,” You said with a grateful sigh, wiping the blood from your hands, “but I’m no doctor, so you might need to take it easy for a while.” You said as you stood once again and motioned to the couch behind him, a small, yet resigned frown passing over your expression, “However…I  did promise that you could leave whenever you were ready….”

By God, he wanted to trust you.

You wished beyond anything for him to stay. Not only for the pleasant curve of his lips, the smooth skin that stretched perfectly across toned muscle, nor for the interesting company he would no doubt be. No… it was his eyes that really captured you, that made your heart beg for him to stay. Cold, calm, and vibrant blue- the kind eyes that wrapped around you and held you under. It reminded you of a frozen lake and part of you craved to find out what made him so. 

But you knew better than to try and hold him. 

“I’ll gather the rest of the bandages and antibiotics for now, but there's no rush.” You offered with a tight smile, hoping he couldn’t read your expression as easily as you felt it was painted on your face. You carried the littering of packaging and the now significantly emptier first aid kit back to the bathroom, pausing just inside the cracked door to listen for leaving footsteps.

But the Soldier hesitated.

His eyes moved to the front door. It was left ajar in the rush to get him inside,  the cold of winter still pouring in. He could leave. Leave and never look back, ever moving toward a fate unknown. But a part of him- a part that had been wiped clean so many times- urged him to stay and find fate here.

For once in his life he could choose to listen to this part of him, no matter how small or repressed…

And he would not waste the opportunity. 

———- 

Craning your neck to look beyond the pile of blankets, pillows, and clothes overflowing in your arms, you padded your way up the creaky wooden stairs, “Hopefully, the spare room will be okay for you tonight. And I found some old clothes in the basement that should be about your size.” You offered as you blindly opened up the door before you. 

The man followed only a few steps behind, his trained footsteps eliciting barely a squeak on the usually talkative staircase. He watched on in confusion as you made up the modest queen-sized bed for him, and stashed a few extra blankets and pillows to the side just in case.

You smiled gently as you finished, and finally turned to hand him the clean change of clothes.

Like a sheet of ice in the ever-warming sun he felt his once-piercing gaze now grow soft as he took the small bundle with the utmost care.

It was such a quick and subtle change you weren’t sure you really saw it, but you sincerely hoped you did.

“I know it’s not much right now, but I hope you’ll still be comfortable for the night.” You said as you looked over the room, hoping you didn’t forget anything. 

He blinked, tilting his head to the side a bit as he lingered on your words.

Why would it matter if he was comfortable? What purpose would it serve you? And why were you just giving him these things…? Did you want something in return? “I…” He paused, a small frown coming to his lips before he managed to speak again- the most emotion you’d seen from him yet. “Why?” he questioned.

“Why? Oh, well…“ You thought for a moment, surprised by the unorthodox question, and eventually shrugged, “You deserve to be comfortable…It seems like you’ve been through a lot recently and you deserve to finally rest…” you said with a hint of a smile. And you meant it. Between the bullet wounds and the near-bleeding out- not to mention, whatever must have come before- you figured he probably deserved a few years rest if nothing else. But for now, you were happy to help him take it day by day.

He didn't return your smile- though you didn’t really expect him to- but still, a softness lingered in his eyes. However, this softness did not dwell alone; beyond that, it laid an inkling of fear- an inkling of impermanence. How long could all of this really last? And what would it be like when his time finally ran out?

But for now, he would allow himself the rare unguarded moment as he repeated your words, his voice scant above a whisper, “I deserve to rest….”

His eyes cast down to the soft fabric in his hand, his calloused thumb running over its well-loved structure. They smelled old, but it didn’t bother him. These were the first clothes- the first gift- that he had received in… well, he wasn’t sure how long.

With a soft and reassuring smile, you nodded and slipped past him as you stepped out the door, “I’ll let you get settled, okay? I’ll be downstairs if you need anything-“ You paused “Ah… Hm, I guess I never really got your name in all the rush earlier…” 

The Soldier shook his head, his voice rough and low with its minimal use, “Don’t have one.”

Your brows furrowed, “You don't have a name…? Hasn’t anybody ever called you anything...?”

His weight shifted from side to side as he thought about his next words, his eyes flicking up to yours; they looked like they carried the weight of lifetimes.

 “They used to call me the Soldier… the Winter Soldier.” 

_________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions @yeehawbrothers

My apologies if i missed anyone! Its been a while writing for the winter soldier! If you wanted to be added to the general or WMSS Taglist please ask and let me know!

[lonewolfwriting89]

MOONLIGHT SONATA

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You beckoned Bucky with your finger, a slow, sensual movement. He followed, stepping across the broken shards of moonlight on the linoleum floor. The odd ray glinting against his metal arm.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW.

Word Count: 2.2k approx

A/N: Hope you all love it xoxo

————

It was almost four in the morning, and Bucky woke up following a bad dream, unable to fall back asleep. He crept out of bed, shuddering as the chilled air flirted across his bare chest, and walked softly to the kitchen. Blue-hued moonlight slid in through the windows, casting rays on the linoleum floor, pushing back the shadows. Bucky crossed the cupboard above the sink and removed a glass, filling it with water. Sipping at the cool liquid, he stared out the window at the moon-lit yard below and cleared his head of the day's thoughts.

A noise behind him caused his focus to shift. Bucky turned and saw you standing there, his faded old shirt hung down below your waist, the only thing you had on. As you stepped into the moonlight, he felt a stirring between his legs, and flushed in the darkness. Bucky realised that you couldn’t see the growing bulge in his boxers, not in the shadows of the night. You stepped towards him, removed the glass from his metal hand and took a sip yourself.

You placed the now empty glass on the counter and as you did, Bucky caught the briefest of glimpses of your exposed ass as the shirt you had on momentarily rose. You wore nothing but a white lace thong underneath. His boxers tightened, doing little to hide himself from you. Turning back to face Bucky you closed the distance between you both with each breath. You stood barely inches from him, your eyes glimmering in the darkness.

"Can't sleep?", you asked innocently enough, your finger traced the contours of the muscles on his chest across to where his skin met the metal of his arm.

"No...Not tired", he murmured, as he stepped forward, sliding his hands around your waist, cupping them down over your ass. Metal and flesh. He pulled you closer, letting you wrap your dainty arms around his neck.

"What shall we do, now that we're awake..?".

"I can think of a few things I'd like to do...", Bucky grinned, as your lips met in a passionate kiss. Your lips opened and your tongues sensuously explored one another.

You broke your embrace, walking backwards towards the kitchen table. You beckoned Bucky with your finger, a slow, sensual movement. He followed, stepping across the broken shards of moonlight on the linoleum floor. The odd ray glinting against his metal arm. You sat up on the kitchen table and slid backwards, spreading your legs ever so slightly, allowing him just a glimpse of your core.

That brief tease drove Bucky on. He stepped towards the table, reaching forward and pulled the old t-shirt over your head and tossed it behind him. It floated like a leaf to the floor, a soft crumple met your ears. The cool moonlight played across your skin, creating a perfect contrast of shadows and light, basking you in an ethereal glow.

He reached forward, wrapping his arms around your back and you kissed again. In the moonlight your tongues explored one another in the dark. Slow. Bucky sighed into the kiss, you tasted sweet, like ripened strawberries, freshly picked. He wanted more.

Once more, you broke the embrace, pulling back ever so slightly. He stepped back, curious and eager. You leant back on your hands, spreading your legs. Bucky’s gaze shifted, from your intensely beautiful eyes, to your breasts, down to the crevice between your thighs, hidden just behind the flimsy fabric of the thong.

"Something caught your eye Barnes...?", you whispered in the dark.

"Yes", he breathed heavily, although the growing warmth in his groin spoke for itself. You took one of his fingers and delicately licked it, up and down before placing it in your mouth and sucking on it. Bucky groaned quietly and you saw the shiver run over his skin. Removing it from your mouth, you left behind a slight strand of saliva that fell from your lips onto your breasts.

You gazed down at yourself, grinning impishly in the steel-blue moonlight. Your finger traced the curves of your breasts, leaving a trail of sticky, wet, glistening saliva, across them, around to your nipples, pebbled and erect from the cool air and the warmth radiating inside your body.

You stared at Bucky intently as you circled your nipples with your wet finger. He could feel a shortness and quickness of breath coming on, a fever beginning to kindle inside his body. You slid your wet finger down between your glistening breasts, over your smooth stomach, and down to the darkness between your legs.

Bucky couldn’t see between your legs, the light of the moon not reaching there, but he watched as your finger disappeared into it, moving in slow circles around it, as your eyelids half-closed in pleasure and private thoughts while you teased yourself.

You know how much he likes to watch when you do this.

Your hand began to move rhythmically, methodically, your eyes completely closed, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Bucky felt a voyeuristic thrill, as if he was watching something private. Something that's only supposed to take place behind closed doors, where there were no prying eyes.

The motion of your hand between your legs stopped, and you slowly withdrew your fingers from their hidden place of pleasure. You re-traced the trail of saliva on your stomach, leaving a wetter, stickier path this time. Made from the product of your own excitement. You circled your nipples again, until they glistened with beads of your slick, and then you took your fingers, almost dripping with your wetness, and placed them up to your lips, ever so delicately.

“Doll…”, Bucky murmured into the silent air.

You teased your fingers around your plump lips, as you did the folds between your legs, until they, too, glistened in the moonlight. You opened your mouth, licking your fingers up and down, sucked on them, drawing them into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting your arousal, your sex.

You popped your fingers from your mouth, still dripping with your sex and your saliva, and offered them to Bucky. He stepped forward, taking your wrist with his hand, and kissed your fingers, tasting the nectar, tasting you. He traced his tongue along them, mildly disappointed that the taste of your arousal was almost gone, lost somewhere in your own mouth.

He tried to recover it. Your lips locked, tongues dancing once again. This time, Bucky tasted your desire, the very essence of your arousal, and he wanted more of it, badly. The bulge in his boxers brushed against the darkness between your legs as you wrapped them around him. He felt the already soaking wet cloth of the thong dampen his boxers.

Bucky thrust against your hips, ever so slightly, but he knew you could feel it when you arched your neck and moaned. He kissed along your throat, tracing his wet tongue down to your breasts. He followed the trail you left for him, the sweet, sticky path that followed the voluptuous curves of your breasts, your hardened nipples, down your toned stomach, into the tempting darkness between your legs.

Your thong was soaked, your slick, dripping onto the surface where you were perched. Bucky slipped it down your smooth, silky legs with his teeth, his calloused hand massaging your ass and the undersides of your thighs. He slowly guided your legs apart, gently kissing the insides of your thighs, licking up and down the insides of your legs torturously slow. Feeling you tremble in anticipation.

You couldn’t restrain yourself any longer, as Bucky teased the outside of your wet folds with his tongue. You reached down with two fingers, rubbing your swollen clit in anticipation, purring his name low in your throat. Finally, he gave you what you both wanted, his tongue flitted across your clit, causing a moan to escape your pursed lips, head tilted back as waves of pleasure radiated through your body. He pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own, inching them slowly into your pussy.

Your hips began to buck and tremble with the combined pleasure of Bucky’s tongue and fingers. He probed deeper with his tongue, sliding it deep into your dripping slit, then flicking circles across your clit. You squeezed your thighs and started rolling your hips in rhythm with his fingers, his hot tongue driving you wild.

Bucky could taste you cumming, he could feel it in the way you drove your hips, in the way your breath came shorter, harder. You panted, as another long, low moan breached your lips. His fingers slid in and out of you faster, his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit. Your body shook hard, causing the table you were sat on to rock with you.

With a sharp cry of his name, your body spasmed beneath his tongue. Another gasp of pleasure erupted from deep within you. Bucky groaned against your core and continued, curling his tongue through you. Your body jerked, as the ecstasy rolled through you bitterly, edging you into another intense climax.

Bucky gently kissed your folds, then planted more along the insides of your thighs, your sweetness still on his tongue and lips. He mapped up your trembling stomach, your panting chest, still glistening from your sweat and sex, up your neck to your mouth.

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled your trembling body up, so that you were sat on the edge of the table. You looped your arms behind his neck and pulled him in close, until your mouths merged. Your lips trembled as they met his, your body still pulsed with the echoes of your orgasm.

Bucky kissed you softly, slowly, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The tang of your slick made the coil in the pit of your stomach twist, igniting the desire again. Aroused by your own taste, you pulled him on top of you, on the table.

His boxers were ripped away urgently, your hands dragged him closer to whisper in his ear, "I want you inside of me…I need you inside of me…now”.

He obliged and kissed you passionately, before slipping into your tight, wet slit. You moaned loudly, feeling his thick cock stretch your pussy. He slid in and out of you, grasping the back of your neck with his metal hand, caressing your face with his flesh fingers, as he thrust harder.

Time ceased to exist as pleasure enveloped both of your bodies, the sensations ebbed and flowed. Increasing in strength and intensity. The tingling of euphoria burst through every nerve in your bodies. Waves of intense pleasure washed over Bucky as your wet walls clenched tightly around his shaft.

Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, your thoughts hazy with lust and desire wrapped up in all that was Bucky. Just as you were both about to approach release, you locked eyes with him, a sly grin playing across your moonlit face.

You stopped, pushing his solid chest.

"Wha-", he couldn’t spit the words out, as the sensation of pleasure dissipated from his body as you slowly disengaged yourself. That look still on your face, mischief and arousal shone in your eyes.

You placed a finger upon his lips, shushing him softly. You pushed him back, gently, from the table's edge, and slowly slid off until your bare feet met the linoleum again. Bucky stared at you quizzically, not quite comprehending what was unfolding before him.

You lowered yourself to your knees, smirking up at him.

Suddenly, he understood and took a step towards you.

Extending your tongue, you met his throbbing cock, tracing the vein on the underside slowly. He gasped as you blew on the tip of his length, the combination of your warm breath on the end, your tongue running its length and your soft, smooth hand gently grasping and stroking pushed Bucky into a storm of bliss.

You plunged your lips over the head of his cock, sliding your tongue along the length of his shaft. All the way down, and all the way back up, making a soft smacking sound as your lips released him. You glanced up at Bucky, witnessing the intense pleasure pass over his handsome face.

You smiled and repeated. Again. And again. And again.

Bucky stroked your hair, threading his vibranium fingers through the strands, wanting to whisper his gratefulness, his appreciation, his love. Anything. But he found himself at a complete loss for words as a wave of euphoria passed over his body, causing him to gasp aloud. A shuddering sigh escaped the moonlight, along with his hot, sticky release.

You swallowed most of it, but you didn’t stop the bobbing motion of your head, the swirling of your tongue or the caress of your lips. The ecstasy was almost more than Bucky could bear, as you swept up the last physical remnants of his release from his shaft and head, swallowing it down.

Groaning, Bucky lowered his trembling body to the ground next to you. He wrapped his numb arms around you, kissing you sweetly as you both embraced, tasting himself on your tongue. He groaned quietly, enjoying the tang. You both laid quivering on the kitchen floor, the aftershocks of your orgasms buzzing through your bodies. In the moonlight, Bucky could see the sheen of sweat covering your skin, making you glow.

You both sighed happily in the moonlight. Basking in your own sonata.

————

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 15- Against a Wall

Bucky Barnes x fem!curvy!reader

Word count- 2k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader wears a skirt and works as a waitress for Tony, described with curves but it's briefly mentioned, mutual pining, protective!Bucky, no use of y/n

Notes- I actually kept changing my mind on who to write this prompt with but I landed on Bucky lol. And the setting here is reminiscent of 2012 mcu tumblr where Bucky joined the avengers and they're all friends. And I purposefully had a curvy/plus sized reader in mine for this prompt to show some love! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

Over the years of working for Tony Stark, you had seen more than your fair share of exciting things. Serving cocktails at his parties meant you had a front row seat to events that usually got splashed across headlines the following morning. Rich people flirted with you all the time, and you flirted back to get extra tips. Plus, you actually became friends with Tony over time, possibly the thing you had least expected. Even as his list of friends and party attendees grew to include otherworldly and superhuman guests.

Overall, you were able to keep your cool, even when meeting big names like Steve Rogers. He was kind and courteous, and handsome of course, but he wasn’t your type. No, your breath wasn’t taken away until his old friend, Bucky Barnes came along. Bucky was everything you had dreamed of, and when you laid eyes on him for the first time, it was as if he stepped out of your fantasy.

“Your drink, sir,” you fought to keep your composure as you handed him a glass.

“Thank you,” his low voice went right to your core as he smiled softly at you.

Bucky wasn’t much for words, but his eyes bore into you, studying your curves as if he could see into your soul. Part of you craved it, but the other part was worried he could read all your secrets, especially the one that you harbored feelings for him. He seemed to grow more and more comfortable as time went on, though, and he started to integrate more into the group. All the other guests did so too, and the more he was around, the less afraid of him they were.

Not you, though. You were never afraid of him. And it wasn’t just from your attraction to Bucky. No, there was something there that you knew you could trust. Something in him that read that he was a good person, a kind person. And though you had never exchanged more than a few words with him, sometimes you felt your gaze linger on him longer than it needed to.

Bucky noticed of course, and sometimes your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away in embarrassment. You went back to your tasks until you felt you could safely glance back over once more. This dance went on every time Tony had a party, yet everything remained in the air, unspoken, only flirting for a couple seconds with your eyes. What you didn’t know, though, was Bucky’s gaze lingered on you for just as long, if not longer. And a feeling of jealousy built up in his gut whenever he saw others flirt with you.

One night, though, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He watched as you served drinks, your skirt running high up your thigh, exposing your flesh more and driving him wild. He wasn’t the only one watching, however, and a man he had never seen before stumbled over to you, draping his arm over you. When you obviously didn’t want him there, Bucky made his move.

“Please do not touch me, sir,” you said sternly but politely, trying to diffuse the situation without making a scene.

“Oh come on sweet girl,” he slurred, “Let me take you home.”

When he tried to lean in closer, the man found himself yanked off of you and instead in the grip of Bucky Banres.

“The lady said no,” Bucky’s tone was firm and low.

All the fight left the man’s eyes as he cowered, “I’m sorry,” he stammered before he wriggled free and ran off.

Bucky watched to make sure he was gone before he turned to you, “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice noticeably softer.

“Y-yeah,” your eyes went wide as you processed what just happened. Bucky Barnes just saved you, and he seemed genuinely concerned about you, “Thank you,” you added in a whisper.

Bucky brushed the back of his hand across your cheek in an affectionate gesture, “Can’t let my favorite waitress get into trouble now, can I?”

Heat rose in your face as the room spun. Was Bucky actually flirting with you? Part of you wanted to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming, but you also didn’t want to wake up if you were. “I’m your favorite waitress?” you asked slyly as you subtly shimmied your shoulders.

He cupped your chin to make you meet his eyes, “Who else would be?”

Time stopped as you met his gaze. It was different looking into his eyes up close, like you could swim in them. And you couldn’t help but glance down at his lips for the briefest moment. 

Bucky took that as his invitation, “You wanna get out of here?” he asked in a low tone.

You bit your lip, “I can’t leave the party,” you paused, hating the look of disappointment on his face, “But,” you slipped your hand into his, “I have an idea. Follow me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky eagerly followed as you led him out of the main room and down a hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at your ass as you walked just in front of him. But, his breath hitched in his throat when you came to a small hall closet and quickly ushered him inside, not wanting anyone else to see.

“It’s not romantic or anything,” you sounded sheepish suddenly as you closed and locked the door, “But it’ll have to do.”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky said as he put his hands on your hips, his lips hovering over yours, “You’re dressed like this, we’re sneaking away from a party, we’re alone… I’m with you,” he exhaled sharply, “This is plenty romantic.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but it was cut off when Bucky placed his lips over yours in a soft kiss. You moaned into him as your eyes fluttered shut and you held onto his shoulders as you parted your lips for him. You felt a low rumble in his chest as he took the invitation and deepened the kiss, tasting you for the first time.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he mumbled between kisses, “You’re… Incredible,” Bucky murmured as he kissed you again, backing you up against the wall.

He swallowed the moan you let out as your back hit the wall, and you clung to him for support. Bucky gladly gave it to you, pressing his body against yours to keep you pinned there. His knee parted your legs slightly so that he could press it against your pussy, and you let out a whimper at the contact.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Bucky breathed as his hands dipped below your skirt. He paused, though, and looked back up into your eyes, “Is this ok?” he asked.

“Shit, Bucky, don’t stop now,” you huffed, “Please.”

“Fuck, I love when you say my name,” Bucky groaned as he kisse you again and tugged at your skirt, pushing it up to expose your panties.

“Bucky…” you moaned again as you clung to his shoulders.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes,” your reply was immediate and your tone was more serious.

Suddenly, you found yourself in the air; Bucky grabbed onto your ass and used his super strength to lift you up and pin you against the wall. You squealed, more in surprise than anything, but let out a moan when you felt his clothed cock against your pussy.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged.

He grunted as he leaned his bodyweight forward, keeping you against the wall as he fumbled to free his cock with one hand. As much as Bucky wanted to take his time with you, he was too desperate right now. And so were you. With hope, Buck would have another chance with you, and that time he would treat you the way he wanted to. He would spend hours between your legs until you told him to stop. He would kiss you all over, worshiping your beautiful body, and feeling every dip and curve of you.

But right now, fucking you against the wall in a close would have to do. Not that either of you were complaining.

You whimpered when you glanced down and saw Bucky’s thick cock pop out against his suit. You panted as you anticipated it filling you, and you had never been more turned on in your life. Bucky murmured your name to get your attention, and the look in his eyes sent another pulse right to your cunt.

“I’m ready,” you answered the unspoken question, “Please, Buck.”

“Fuck,” he growled as he hooked a finger on your panties and pushed them aside, “Hold onto me, alright? I’ve got you.”

A loud hiss escaped your lips as he slowly pushed into you. You bit your lip to try and hold back your moans, but his cock felt so good as it entered you and you couldn’t help but cry out. Bucky groaned as he felt your warmth engulf him, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting the rest of the way into you.

“You ok?” he asked when he heard you whine.

“Yes,” you breathed, “Fuck me, Bucky… Please,” you tugged at his shoulder as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bucky growled your name as he reeled back and thrust forward again. Both of you gasped at the action, and from there Bucky lost all control. He rocked into you over and over again as you hung helplessly against the wall. Moans and groans from both of you filled the tiny space as Bucky thrust into you at the perfect angle.

“Shit,” you cried out as you slammed your head back against the wall.

“Feel so good… Sweetheart,” Bucky grunted as the room started to spin for him as well.

“Bucky…”

“I know… I’ve got you.”

He pounded into you with fervor, with desperate need as you screamed even louder. He rested his forehead against yours, feeling your breath on his face with every moan you let out. Bucky already craved more of you; he wanted to always feel you around him and in his arms. He tightened his grip on you as his thrusts became more erratic as his own climax quickly approached.

“Bucky… I’m…”

All he could do was groan your name and close his eyes. Your orgasms hit simultaneously, one right after the other. You trembled in Bucky’s arms as you came hard, and Bucky fought to keep himself upright as he spilled himself deep inside you. As he thrust into you, riding out your climaxes, Bucky took your lips with his once more in a deep and passionate kiss.

Sweat lined your brow and the sensations overwhelmed you, but you felt safe in Bucky's arms. As you started to come down from your high, you broke away for a deep breath, and you gasped as you felt yourself go more limp in his arms. Bucky immediately snapped to attention, and gently lowered you down, pulling out of you in the process.

You whimpered at the loss, but Bucky never let go of his grip on you, even as he settled you back on your feet. Your eyes trailed up from the ground as you met his gaze, and your heart skipped a beat from the way he looked at you.

“That was… Wow,” you whispered as you composed yourself and fixed your skirt, “Better than I ever imagined,” you muttered under your breath.

Bucky tucked himself back in his pants and straightened out his jacket, “So,” he smirked, “You imagined me?”

You looked at him wide-eyed, “I- I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok sweetheart,” he cupped your face, “Can you keep a secret?” when you nodded he continued, “I imagined you too.”

You exhaled deeply as you leaned into his touch. You allowed him to slowly pull your face to his and parted your lips as Bucky kissed you once more. This kiss was slow, yet deep, and it helped all the unspoken emotions you both felt. When you broke away you let out another deep breath, “Tony is going to have a field day with this,” you said with a laugh.

“I’m by your side,” Bucky reassured you after joining your laughter, “Shall we?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded, “Let’s go,” you slid your hand in his and opened the door to your futures.

[thefallennightmare]

Soldiers-one

credit to whoever made the gif, found on google/pinterest.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: angst, language, fluff, violence, smut.

Summary: Reader has spent the last seventy years in hell as a prisoner soldier; Hydra's greatest weapon. Well, second greatest weapon after The Winter Soldier. The only thing that got her through that hell was him, even if she was the one behind his biggest pain.

Authors Note: here we go! As usual, I'm unsure how long this story will be. I always go with the flow with my stories.

Tags(open): @elizacusi-blog @pattiemac1 @yvessaintmuerte @mdpplgtz03 @mayjaysthots @broadwaybabe18 @sebsgirl71479 @yourfavunsub @themorningsunshine

The clock ticked loudly and slowly, another day wasted by me sitting here in this room, more so prison. They hadn’t needed me the last few days for any missions or another round of serum injections. Thankfully the last one hadn’t happened in over a week because there was no way I could handle the pain. Every time the serum was a bit stronger than the last which destroyed my body, me being holed up in my bed, cries echoing down the halls. 

It had been like this for the last five years, since I was sixteen years old. I used to be a runway, seeking solace with whoever would grant me it and I found it in Johann Schmitt. He was my savior, granting me access to his mansion along with other kids that wanted a safe place from their troubled homes. 

Or so we all thought. 

What we thought was a safe place turned out to be a prison where Schmitt experimented on us. The ones that survived were able to stay while the others, the failures, left in a body bag. 

What started as a group of ten of us slowly dwindled down to three over the last five years but for the past six months, I was the lone survivor. Whatever Schmitt injected all of us with, my body didn’t reject it like the others did. It took me so long to get used to the feeling that filled me. Super strength, super hearing, and immortality. 

I realized after the third year of being their weapon that I hadn’t changed in my looks, almost looking younger. That was when Zola informed me that the serum is what made me immortal; I could never die.  

But yet the biggest change of all still scared me to this day. 

With a snap of a finger, electricity sparked at the tips, and I watched with the same awe I did the first time it happened. It was as if I held the power of lighting in the palm of my hand. 

Which is why Schmitt and his scientist, Arnim Zola, used me as their weapon, Hydra’s weapon. Whenever they needed an enemy taken out, they sent me to take care of it. I obliged every time, not wanting to risk being kicked out of the only home I had known for the last handful of years. 

Or worse. 

“Voin.” 

I looked away from my hands over to the guard who appeared in my room, the name they had given me echoing loudly in my ears. It meant warrior in the Russian tongue. 

A smaller figure entered behind the guard while adjusting the glasses on his nose. 

“How are we doing this morning, Y/N?” 

My gaze fell away from him. “I’d be better if you didn’t inject me with more serum, Zola.” 

Arnim clicked his tongue and sat on the edge of my bed which made me pull my legs closer to my chest. 

“Luckily for you, I need you for something else today.” 

“Another mission?” I asked with a raised brow. 

“No,” he shook his head. “Come.” 

He motioned for me to follow him and not wanting to disobey his orders, I followed a few steps behind as Arnim led me down the long, dark hallways of the compound that we had recently moved too. With the current war, Schmitt never risked staying in the same place for long. 

My ears perked up when I heard some kind of commotion coming from the room down the hall. It was different than the usual sounds of war that I heard on the other end of the battlefield. There was a deep voice muttering something over and over again. It was a name followed by a bunch of numbers, the voice sounded so quiet and broken. The only way I was able to hear it was because of my super hearing. 

I froze when the familiar room appeared in front of me, Zola’s laboratory. He experimented on me countless times here and the table that I would lay on had a different body on it. The dog tags on his neck indicated that he was in the army, on the opposing side. 

“What is this?” I asked Zola. 

“Nothing you need to worry about. I only need you for one thing.” 

I finally looked into the man’s eyes, the broken gaze staring up at me. When ours locked, my breath caught in my throat while my heart jumped on my throat. Whoever this man was looked absolutely breathtaking, his soft features hidden underneath the stubble on his face. I traced a thumb over the small wound on his cheek but it was then that I realized exactly what he was hooked up to. 

The tubes and i.v.’s were sticking out both of his arms, the dark blue liquid filling him. 

Fire eyes stared at Zola. “What did you do to him?” 

“James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038 T41 42 O.”

The man, James, kept repeating the same thing over and over while I glared at Zola. 

“I need you to use your powers to erase his mind.” 

I shook my head. “I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you can. I programmed your powers to do so,” Zola informed. “All you need to do is think about erasing his memories. I need you to make him forget the last twenty-four hours.” 

I looked back to James and my heart shattered, knowing that whatever he went through in this room would change his life in the most drastic way. His eyes reached mine again and when the small smile pulled at his lips, I let out a low sob. 

Even with his smile, James looked out of it from Zola’s experimenting. 

“I won’t do it,” I shook my head. 

Zola looked to his left at the guard who stood next to him and nodded towards me. Within seconds, there was a gun pressed into the side of my skull, tears now falling from my eyes. 

“Do it,” Zola ordered. “Now, Voin!” 

His sudden loud voice made me jump so with shaking hands; I ghosted them over both sides of James’ head. I couldn’t touch him, not yet. 

The gun pressed harder into the side of my head and I cried out, the electric sparks appearing at my fingertips. 

“I’m sorry,” I muttered to James. 

He watched with fear in his eyes as I grabbed his head, his body stiffening with my touch. His own screams echoed throughout the room, piercing my soul, while the electricity zapped into his brain. 

My apologies to him were drowned as our eyes locked again, him staring at me with confusion as to why I was doing this to him. The lone tear that fell from his eyes was the final straw and I pulled my hands away into my chest, stumbling away from him. 

I did not like this feeling, so I silently prayed that this was the one and final time that Zola needed me to do this. 

[vayollie]

😭🩷😭🩷🩷🩷😭🩷😭

You owned him, his heart and his everything.

His Everything

Summary: Bucky has trouble talking about his feelings and he ends up pushing away the one person he needs the most.

Request: Could you do ''Come on, open the door. Please.'' from the second prompt list for Bucky? Maybe angsty, but with a happy ending?? Thanks!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader / Post Civil War - Pre Infinity War Bucky Barnes x Reader / Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k (I went way overboard. Sorry.)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swear words. I think that's it. Let me know if I forgot something.

Notes at the end.

It had been a little over a year since Steve left Bucky in Wakanda and went on the run with Sam, Natasha and you. Natasha had found a small secret compound where the four of you could hide without having to look over your shoulders every day and actually get some sleep. Even Tony, who had almost all the tech available at his disposal, still couldn’t find you.

***

Sam had been the one to bring you into the group. You had known him for a very long time, both of you being veterans. You went through hell and back together and you both knew that you’d always watch each other’s back.

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to show up when Sam called you out of nowhere saying Captain America needed your help.

If it hadn’t been for his very serious tone, you’d thought he was joking but you had heard this voice before. Many times. You knew it was serious.

Sam was the eye in the sky and you were on the ground. You completed each other as a team. You didn’t have any cool tech like he did but you were quick on your feet, both figuratively and literally. You always knew where to go and how to get out, all the exit routes and you had amazing fighting skills. You had saved his life many times, just as he had saved yours as many times if not more often.

Sam thought you were the perfect person to add to the team. The minute Steve and Natasha had shown up at his door, he had to call you.

You helped them chase the Winter Soldier who turned out to be Steve’s childhood best friend.

When Bucky disappeared, Steve decided to go look for him. He couldn’t live with himself knowing that his friend was somewhere out there, more than likely suffering. Sam volunteered to help Steve and you went with them. No questions asked.

Without even realizing it, you and Sam were part of the Avengers. It all became real when the Sokovia Accords were presented to you and you were asked to sign. Steve refused, quickly followed by you and then Sam.

***

When Cap found Bucky, you had a serious choice to make. You all did. Suddenly the Avengers were split right in the middle and you were either with Steve or against him.

You didn’t even need to think about which side you were on.

You were a little intimidated when you first met Bucky. One, he always stared at people and you never knew whether he liked you or hated you and two, he was a legend. Regardless of what he had done, the man was incredibly skilled.

Bucky and Sam bickered constantly, it was annoying as hell. It seemed like Bucky tried to scare Sam away, unfortunately Sam didn’t get scared easily and he just saw it as an open invitation to sass the hell out of Bucky.

At first, you were shy. You weren’t really sure if you were wanted or needed on the team but you were ready to show your worth.

You had been on the road for hours, in the tiniest freaking car you had ever seen. Stuck with incredibly big men, who turned out to be just as big of babies.

You stopped on the side of the road, again, because Sam and Bucky were fighting in the back seat, again. The moment the car had stopped, everybody had jumped out and Steve took Sam away to give Bucky time to calm down.

You took the opportunity to talk to Bucky.

‘’Do you think one day you could show me your knife trick?’’ You asked, curiously.

He looked at you, his eternal frown stuck to his face.

‘’My knife trick?’’ He repeated, confused.

‘’Yeah, you know.’’ You grabbed the knife that you always hid in one of your combat boots. ‘’When you fought Steve on the highway, you did this thing with your knife.’’ You tried doing it from memory to show him what you were talking about.

His eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened when he saw you take out the knife from your boot. He crossed his arms, eyeing you carefully as you showed him what you meant.

‘’Oh. That. It’s easy, actually.’’ He walked closer, extending his hand towards you.

You handed him your knife and put your hands on your hips, excited to learn.

He looked the knife over and flipped it around his fingers. He looked up. ‘’Do you always carry a knife in your boot?’’

You nodded, as if you were talking about carrying a pencil. ‘’Amongst other places.’’ You shrugged.

He didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared. He was a little bit of both.

That afternoon, the two of you bounded over knife tricks and special moves you both liked to use. The big, bad Winter Soldier was nowhere to be found, in front of you was only James ‘’Bucky’’ Barnes; a dork with a tormented past. Two things you could easily relate to.

***

You were a bit sad when Steve told you that his friend went back under, at least until they found a way for him to have control over his own mind again.

Though you absolutely adored Sam and Steve, you connected with Bucky in a very different way and you already missed your long conversations.

It took a year and a half before you saw him again. A year and a half of you being on the run with your two best friends. Three, when Natasha joined you.

You had settled into a nice little routine in your new compound, you felt somewhat safe and had as normal a life as government fugitives could have.

Steve announced Bucky’s return over breakfast one morning.

‘’Bucky’s been out of cryo for about 6 months now, from what Shuri told me. They worked really hard to find a solution and he feels ready. He wants to join us.’’ He looked at the 3 of you, waiting for your reactions.

''Cyborg is going to be living here, with us?’’ Sam asked.

You slapped Sam’s arm. ‘’Don’t call him that.’’

He rolled his eyes.

‘’Only if we’re all okay with having him here.’’ Steve answered.

‘’It’s fine with me.’’ You said.

‘’It’s fine with me, too.’’ Nat agreed.

You all turned to look at Sam. He groaned. ‘’Fine. He can come live with us.’’

‘’Great. He should be here tonight.’’ Steve announced. ‘’I’ll go get him.’’

‘’How are you gonna do that?’’ Natasha asked.

You had all the tech and weapons you needed to defend yourselves if you needed to but you were short on quinjets.

‘’Shuri said she’s sending someone over to pick me up.’’

You laughed. ‘’I love how you’re saying this like she’s sending a Über for you.’’

‘’Who’s Über?’’ Steve frowned, confused.

You all laughed, making him feel even more confused.

‘’No one. Nothing. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything.’’ You patted his shoulder. ‘’You need one of us to go with you? And by one of us, I mean either Nat or me because Sam isn’t even an option.’’

‘’What?’’ Sam looked at you. ‘’Why not??’’

‘’Because the man just spent a year and a half in Wakanda, he hasn’t seen anyone aside from Shuri and King T’Challa and the last thing he needs is you nagging him the moment he steps out of the one place he feels safe.’’ You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow, silently challenging him to dare and tell you you’re wrong.

‘’She has a point.’’ Natasha said.

‘’Y’all really know how to suck the fun out of everything.’’ He whined.

Steve cleared his throat, bringing the focus back on him. ‘’No, it’s fine. I’ll go on my own. Like you said, it’s been a while since he saw ‘’new’’ people and we should ease him into it.’’

Steve left for Wakanda shortly after, leaving you and Nat to set up one of the rooms for Bucky.

***

Bucky already knew all of you. It made the transition back to the ‘’real world’’ a lot easier on him. It still took a few days before he joined you all when you ate or trained. The compound wasn’t huge, not like Tony’s, but there was plenty of space for him to roam around peacefully when he needed to get out of his room and didn’t want to talk to anyone.

You all respected his decision to be more by himself.

You tried to keep the same kind of routine you used to have before. You hung out almost every night, you ate almost every meal together and you tried to train as often as possible to stay sharp. Steve was the one in charge and he was a very strict leader.

***

You were all in the gym, even Bucky had joined this time but only to watch, and Steve was in full coach mode.

‘’You two.’’ He pointed at you and Sam. ‘’Hand-to-hand.’’

You grinned. ‘’That’s a great idea, Cap.’’

You turned to Sam, your grin turning into a smirk.

‘’Nuh-uh-uh.’’ Sam said, shaking his head no multiple times. ‘’I’m not fighting her.’’

‘’Afraid you’re going to lose, Wilson?’’ Natasha said to him.

‘’Oh, I know I’m going to lose. That’s why I don’t want to fight her.’’

You pouted, putting your hands on your hips. ‘’I’ll take it easy on you, come on.’’

He eyed you suspiciously. ‘’Promise?’’

‘’Promise.’’

He extended his pinky towards you, you did the same and wrapped it around his. He shook your hands up and down, sealing your promise. It's something you had started way back when you first met. Pinky promises were the most sacred kind of promises and were never meant to be broken.

You started circling each other, giving him a chance to attack first. You gave him a few minutes to attack you, even let him land a punch or two. After 5 minutes, you started to actually fight him back and within the next minute Sam was laying flat out on his back, one of your knees barely pressing against his throat to keep him from moving.

Bucky was chuckling, Natasha was cheering for you and Steve was trying to hide the smile that was forcing its way onto his face while Sam looked up at you, betrayal written all over his face.

‘’What?’’ You asked.

‘’You said you would take it easy on me! You pinky promised!’’ His voice came out all high and squeaky from the emotions.

‘’Hey! I never broke a pinky promise.’’ Your tone was beyond serious. You pointed a finger at him. ‘’I did take it easy on you. Otherwise the only time you would have came close enough to even touch me would have been when I was taking you down.’’

Sam slapped your knee away from his throat and sat up. You took a few steps back and offered him your hand to help him get back up. He looked at your hand like it was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen and scoffed. He stood up, without your help.

‘’You’re such a big baby.’’ You shook your head.

He ignored you.

‘’We’ll see how long that lasts. I’m sure you’ll change your mind by dinner time when you realize you’ll have to cook for yourself because I’m only cooking for people who actually talk to me.’’

He scoffed. ‘’I can cook.’’

‘’Sure.’’ You said. ‘’If burning water counts as cooking, then sure.’’

‘’Ok, children. Enough.’’ Steve called out, putting an end to your bickering. ‘’Sam, get over it.’’ He added.

You smirked at him, a smug look on your face as you crossed your arms on his chest. ‘’Yes, Sam. Get over it.’’ You repeated.

‘’You think you’re soooo good uh?’’ He imitated you, crossing his arms on his chest.

‘’I know I’m good.’’ You shrugged.

‘’Fine. Then fight Steve. Or better yet, fight Tin-Man over there.’’ He pointed to Bucky.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a stern look on your face. ‘’Sorry, sorry.’’ He said, raising his hands in surrender. ‘’Fight Bucky.’’

You hated when he called Bucky ‘’Tin-Man’’.

You heard some shuffling on your right, Bucky took off his jacket and boots.

‘’Alright, I’m down. Let’s see what you’ve got baby doll.’’

You were all surprised to see him participate. Maybe a little too surprised because when he saw all of your faces he stopped in his tracks. ‘’What?’’

‘’Nothing, nothing.’’ Steve quickly reacted. ‘’Let’s see it.’’

You were both very nervous and very excited to go head to head with Bucky. He’d proven more than once that he was extremely skilled and you were curious to see how your skills measured up to his.

It turns out, you were actually pretty good but Bucky had a lot more years of practice than you did. You managed to make him break a sweat, which wasn’t easy. You almost managed to bring him down a few times but in the end, he won and you ended up with your back on the floor, like Sam had earlier.

Bucky smiled down at you and wiped his forehead with his flesh hand. ‘’That was actually pretty impressive.’’ He admitted.

You grinned at the compliment. ‘’Thank you.’’ He offered you his vibranium hand to help you up, which you gladly accepted. Once you were back on your feet, you turned your face to look at Sam. ‘’See? That’s how adults accept defeat.’’

Sam flipped you off and you gasped. ‘’Dude. Cap’s right there. What’s wrong with you? You know he’s sensitive to that stuff.’’

‘’I’m not that bad.’’ Steve said defensively.

You, Nat, Sam and even Bucky all looked at each other.

‘’Shit.’’ Sam said.

‘’Language!’’ Steve couldn’t help himself. You knew this was coming and you all said it at the same time as he did. He started to blush, quickly turning red.

‘’We should totally have a reverse swear jar. Every time someone curses and Steve reprimands them, he has to put a dollar in the jar.’’ You suggested.

‘’We’re gonna be rich!’’ Natasha smirked.

‘’You better start looking for a part time job Stevie, because I know what kind of pension the military gives to their vets and you’re going to run out very quickly.’’ You teased.

‘’How do you know how much we make?’’ Bucky asked curiously.

You plunged your hand into the top of your shirt and grabbed your dog tags, bringing them out to show them to him. ‘’Because I’m a vet.’’

Bucky looked shocked.

You put your tags back in your shirt. ‘’Don’t look so shocked.’’ You chuckled.

‘’I’m sorry it’s just that you look so…’’

‘’Small?’’ You finished for him.

‘’No. I was going to say you look so sweet. Like you wouldn’t hurt a fly.’’ He said, seriously.

‘’That’s exactly why I’m the perfect weapon.’’ You grinned.

He laughed and nodded, agreeing with you. ‘’I guess that’s true.’’

***

After that afternoon, you and Bucky got a lot closer. He had always appreciated having you around, you had this calming presence that he liked but after learning that you used to be a soldier, he connected to you in a different way. Though your past looked nothing like his, you could understand some of the things he went through, some of the things he saw and some of the things he had to do as the soldat.

You never judged him. You always listened to what he had to say and only talked when he expected you to. Sometimes, he’d only need to talk about it; to get it all out and once he was done he’d just change subject. You had come to learn when he needed you to comfort him versus when he needed to confess just from the tone of his voice.

Bucky liked to flirt with you. A lot. He always called you baby doll, complimented you and winked at you. You knew it was just because there were only two girls around here and Natasha would have shut it down quickly. It wasn’t because he actually liked you, he was just lonely.

That’s why you let him do it, sometimes you even flirted back just to tease him. But when a man as handsome and kind as Bucky Barnes shows you that kind of attention, at some point your heart just gives in.

You kept repeating to yourself that Bucky wasn’t actually interested in you, he was just being his charming self. Steve had told you many stories about Bucky back in the 30s and 40s. He was a ladies’ man. Now that he could finally be himself again, there were no ladies around and he did what he could with what he’s got. You kept repeating it to yourself over and over again but your heart stopped caring a few weeks in. You had developed a very big crush on him.

You tried to hide it as best as you could, though you don’t think anyone would notice even if you didn’t but you wanted to save yourself the humiliation of having him turn you down. Why would a man like him be interested in a woman like you? He wouldn’t.

There were times when you’d let yourself believe it when he complimented you or when he hugged you a little longer than usual. You thought it was normal, he hadn’t been touched in a soothing way in a very long time and he probably missed it so when he lingered, you just hugged him a little bit tighter and he loved it.

***

Little did you know that Bucky had the biggest crush on you, since the day you had asked him to teach you his knife trick back on the highway before he went under cryo in Wakanda. You amazed him. You were an absolute badass and you had the best sense of humor. He loved hearing you bicker with Sam, he always thought you were witty and had funny comebacks. You were always perfectly sarcastic.

He never hid it. He flirted with you all the time and hugged you as often as he could without coming off as a creep. The day you fought him in training he had called you baby doll and it was a total slip up. Something he had called you only in his head but you didn't seem to mind so he kept calling you that and his heart wanted to burst out of his chest every time he saw your face lit up at the pet name.

You were the only girl he had ever called that. It was usually sweetheart or doll, and though it was more of the same with the second one; the baby in front of it made all the difference to him. Some night he even dreamt about a day when he could call you just baby. His baby. His girl.

Bucky was kind of shy, even though he hid it well. The only reason he flirted so openly with you is because everyone seemed to think it was just for fun. That it was just what he did.

Sam had picked up on something. He’d known you for so long that it didn’t take long before he noticed the way you looked at Bucky.

***

Bucky, Sam and Steve were sitting down at the dinner table one afternoon while Natasha and you were doing a perimeter check to make sure everything worked and that everything was where it was supposed to be. They tried to do it as often as possible, just a way for them to feel safe. Knowing that you were far outside, Sam took the opportunity to ask Bucky questions about you.

‘’So… You seem to be getting along pretty well with her.’’ Sam’s tone was playful, almost teasing him.

Bucky started to get nervous. ‘’What makes you say that?’’

‘’If I had a dollar for every time you called her baby doll or that I walked in on you two hugging like your life depended on it…’’ He trailed off.

‘’That’s just what I call girls.’’ Bucky scoffed, trying to downplay it.

‘’Do you like her?’’ Steve chimed in.

‘’Of course I like her, she’s my friend.’’

‘’Ok but do you like her, like her?’’ Steve asked again, this time being more specific.

‘’What? No.’’ He scoffed like it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. ‘’Why would I? I know we’re stuck in here with only her and Natasha, but come on. I’m not that desperate. I’d sooner go for Natasha than I would her.’’

Bucky hated himself for saying those things the moment they had come out of his mouth. Why did he say any of those things? He could have just told them the truth or just say he wasn’t interested. He was so scared they would run off to tell you that he just panicked and went way too far.

Steve and Sam frowned. Both of them were about to stand up for you but froze in place when you walked in.

You had heard everything.

You’d just come back from your perimeter check with Natasha and heard the boys talking. You went looking for them. You arrived right as Steve was asking Bucky if he liked you. You knew you should have walked away but you were really curious. What if he did like you? Maybe all those times he flirted with you meant something.

You really should have walked away.

He’s not that desperate? What does that even mean? Bucky was definitely out of your league, you knew that, but were you that bad that just the idea of liking you disgusted him? Why did he even waste his time pretending to be your friend? You were heartbroken and completely crushed.

Tears were stinging your eyes, a result of your sadness and the anger you felt from his words. You felt humiliated. You took several deep breaths to calm yourself and to keep yourself from crying.

You don’t know where the courage came from, but you wanted them to know you had heard everything so instead of turning around and going into your room, you walked into the kitchen.

You weren’t brave enough to look at any of them, so you just stared straight ahead. You walked to the fridge to take a bottle of water and walked right out without so much as a glance to any of them.

Then, you almost ran to your room and shut the door silently, locking it behind you as you finally allowed yourself to cry.

***

Bucky’s heart was beating out of his chest the moment he saw you walk in. You never made a single noise when you walked and even with his enhanced hearing he couldn’t hear you coming most of the time. Like right now. You couldn’t have heard him, right? He clenched his fists under the table, his gaze never leaving you.

The three of them were looking at you as you moved around the kitchen until you walked out.

‘’You don’t think she heard…?’’ Bucky asked, though he knew the answer.

Every time you walked into a room and someone was there, you’d greet them with the biggest smile. The fact that you hadn’t looked at any of them was all he needed to know that you’d heard him.

Both Steve and Sam were aware of your crush, they just pretend not to for your sake. That’s why both of the men had pressed Bucky about it, they were curious to know if he felt the same. Now they regretted asking as they played a part in you getting your heart broken.

Steve spoke as he stood up. ‘’I’m gonna go see her.’’

Bucky shook his head and grabbed Steve’s wrist. ‘’No, I’ll go.’’

‘’I think you’ve said enough about her and to her for the day.’’ Steve’s tone showed his anger though his face was relaxed.

‘’Please.’’

Steve hesitated for a few seconds before seating back down.

Bucky quickly got up and headed straight to your room, cursing himself in his head the whole way there.

He froze in front of your door when he heard you sniffle. You were crying. You were crying and it was his fault.

He raised his flesh hand and knocked a few times against your door. He couldn’t hear anything coming from the other side, which meant you hadn’t moved to come open the door.

‘’It’s Bucky…’’ He waited a few seconds. ‘’Can we- Can we talk?’’

He heard you trying to muffle the sound of you crying, you knew he could hear you.

It broke his heart. He hated himself so much for making you suffer. He really needed to learn to keep his stupid mouth shut.

‘’Come on, baby doll. Open the door, please.’’ He tried again.

He waited a few minutes outside your door, hoping you’d finally open the door but you never did. He wished you would have told him to fuck off or screamed at him, anything would have been better than silence.

He was about to knock again when Sam appeared at the end of the hallway. He looked at Bucky and crossed his arms on his chest. Bucky looked at him, hoping he was here to help him get you out but Sam simply shook his head no and motionned for him to get away from your door.

***

You were relieved when you finally heard Bucky walk away. The longer you’d be able to avoid him, the better. You were so stupid. Falling for someone that you didn’t deserve, someone you couldn’t avoid because you were literally confined into this house with him. Or more precisely stuck, as he had put it so kindly.

You laid in your bed, under your covers and closed your eyes. You were exhausted and all you wanted to do was sleep.

***

It was almost dinner time and everyone was waiting to see if you were going to come out of your room. You were always the one to cook for them, though they weren’t expecting you to do it tonight, they just really wanted you to come talk to them.

You didn’t.

You weren’t hungry nor did you feel like talking to anyone. The last thing you wanted right now, was to share your humiliation with everyone.

Taking turns, they all came knocking on your door throughout the night in the hopes that maybe you’d talk to one of them. None of them succeeded.

Sam spent the entire night glaring at Bucky. He was fiercely protective of you. What Bucky had said about you had pissed him off but the fact that you had heard him and that you were hurt? He wanted to punch him. He would have if he knew it would actually hurt the super soldier.

***

The perks of having a bathroom directly connected to your room was that you literally never had to leave your bedroom. The only thing missing was food but you weren’t hungry so for now it was fine.

The team finally saw you again almost 24 hours later. They were all sitting down at the dinner table and were talking while eating when you walked in, putting a stop to their conversation.

‘’I seem to be doing that a lot lately.’’ You mumbled to yourself under your breath.

Bucky was about to get up to come talk to you but Steve grabbed him by the wrist and kept him firmly seated.

‘’Don’t.’’ He warned him, whispering so that you wouldn’t hear him.

Bucky glared at him and pulled at his arm so that Steve would let go. Steve lost his grip but quickly grabbed Bucky’s arm.

‘’Let go of me. I need to talk to her.’’ His voice almost came out as a growl.

You turned around to look at them.

‘’You need to talk to me?’’ You asked, looking at Bucky.

He stopped moving, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He didn’t expect you to look at him, even less to talk to him.

‘’I do.’’

‘’Something you forgot to say yesterday? Maybe you wanted to make it clear that even if I was the last woman on Earth you wouldn’t touch me with a 10 foot pole? Or that being stuck here with me is so painful you’d rather go back under cryo?’’ You looked unphased but your tone was bitter.

Before anyone could speak you looked at the other 3 members of your team and smiled shyly at them. ‘’I’m sorry for ruining your dinner.’’ You said sincerely. ‘’Another thing to add to your list Bucky I guess.’’

You walked out and went back to your room.

No one dared to speak after you left. They all sat in silence. Sam was fuming in his chair, Steve was shaking his head and Natasha hesitated to follow you.

‘’You couldn’t let it go, could you?’’ Steve said to Bucky. ‘’I think you hurt the poor girl enough, do her a favor and leave her alone.’’

‘’No, I don’t want to leave her alone. I need to talk to her. I need to apologize.’’ Bucky insisted, earning a glare from Steve.

‘’You don’t need to do shit, aside from leaving her the hell alone.’’ This time it was Sam who spoke up. ‘’You could have simply said that you didn’t like her, you know, we would have moved on from the subject and she never would have had to hear what you thought of her. Don’t even get me started on the way you played with her by flirting with her all the time. She never did anything to you to deserve to be talked about in the way that you did.’’ Sam got up.

Steve looked at him as he stood up. ‘’Sam…’’

‘’No. No. He needs to hear this. She heard what he had to say, now he’s the one who’s gotta listen.’’ He was almost screaming at this point, you could hear him clearly all the way to your room.

You opened your bedroom door and stayed in the doorway to listen to Sam. He rarely screamed but when he did…

‘’That girl back there is the best damn woman I’ve ever known in my entire life.’’ Sam put his hand on Natasha’s shoulder. ‘’No offense.’’ He said to her, his tone a lot softer.

‘’Don’t apologize. It’s true.’’ She smiled.

‘’This woman saved my life more times than I can count. I trust her with my life and with the life of everyone I love. She puts everyone before herself and she never even expects a thank you. She does it because she has a big heart. She always stood up for you. ALWAYS. Whether you were here or not. If she heard anyone bad mouthing you she’d call them out and make them apologize. Do you know how many times she slapped me for calling you anything that wasn’t James, Buck or Bucky? She’s had your back since day one. Day one!!!’’ Sam was screaming again.

‘’You should have stayed in Wakanda, man. She didn’t deserve you talking about her this way.’’ He had lowered his voice to say this last bit.

Sam stepped aside and turned around, moving to go see you but Bucky stopped him by talking.

‘’I like her.’’ His voice was barely audible.

Sam turned around to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He looked beyond pissed. ‘’What did you just say?’’

‘’I like her.’’ He repeated louder.

‘’You like her?’’ Sam asked like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. ‘’Man, what the hell is wrong with you?’’

‘’I’ve liked her since the day we had to fight Stark at the airport.’’ He started, looking down at his hands. ‘’I panicked when you asked me about it because I didn’t want anyone to tell her that I did. I didn’t think she’d ever like me back. Why would she, after everything that I have done?’’ He laughed sadly.

‘’I didn’t want to lose her as a friend so I panicked and all these words came out of my mouth and it was just the complete opposite of how I really feel about her. She’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt Sam, I swear.’’ He looked up to meet Sam’s eyes to show how sincere he truly was.

‘’She’s everything you said and more and… I don’t deserve someone like her. I don’t deserve to be loved by her. Not after what I’ve done. To her, to the people that were my targets. I wanted to keep her around me before the universe realized that they had given me a good thing and decided to take her away. I panicked, okay? And I’m going to hate myself forever for hurting her.’’

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. ‘’If I could leave, believe me I would. I’d get as far from her as possible to make sure I’d never hurt her again.’’

He kept his face buried in his hands, too scared to see the look on everybody’s faces.

**

You heard everything.

You were touched to tears when you heard Sam angrily scream all the amazing things he thought about you. After last night, it was comforting to hear good things about yourself. Without realizing it, you were walking towards the kitchen. You wanted them to stop fighting. Bucky started talking and you stopped moving, hiding behind the wall leading to the kitchen.

He had hurt you, deeply, but after hearing all of this, how could you stay mad at him? He sincerely regretted what happened. Could you really be surprised that the man who spent over 50 years being an emotionless, brain-washed killing machine had trouble talking about his feelings? It didn’t erase what he said but you felt a lot better now knowing that it wasn’t how he really felt about you.

You silently moved to stand in the doorway. Everyone but Bucky noticed you, as his face was still buried in both of his hands.

Without a word, the three of them left the room as quietly as possible. You walked into the kitchen and stood across from him, the table being the only thing putting distance between you.

‘’So, now you want to get as far away from me as possible uh?’’

Bucky lifted his head so quickly, you half expected him to break his neck. He couldn’t believe that he had put his foot in his mouth. Again. He was sure that he had lost you for good. As a friend or otherwise. Until he finally looked at you and saw that you were smiling. You were smiling. At him.

God, he had missed that smile. He stood up and walked towards you, stopping before he completely reached you to leave some distance between the two of you.

‘’If that’s what you want me to do, I will.’’ He looked straight into your eyes.

‘’Maybe… Maybe I should want you to leave but I don’t want you to go.’’

He took a step towards you.

‘’You want me to stay?’’ He asked, still looking into your eyes so he’d see if you were just trying to be polite because you knew he technically couldn’t go anywhere or if it’s how you truly felt.

Though if you’d ask him to leave, he would. He’d go on the run again, he’d risk getting arrested and put in jail if it was the only way he could show how truly sorry he was.

‘’I do.’’

He took another step towards you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

Your smile faltered. ‘’It’s okay.’’ You said before smiling sadly at him.

He shook his head and closed the distance between the two of you. He gently took your face in his hands and when you didn’t make any movement to push him away, he put a little bit of pressure under your chin to tilt your head up so he could look down into your eyes.

‘’No. It’s not okay. I hurt you, that makes it not okay. I should have never said what I said, whether you were there to hear it or not. Especially when I didn’t mean a single word of what I said.’’ He brushed his thumbs against your cheeks, so softly you could barely feel them.

‘’I’m so sorry, baby doll.’’ His voice was almost breaking from the pain and the guilt. ‘’I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you so that one day you can forgive me. I hope you can forgive me.’’

You could see the guilt in his eyes and it made you sad. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

You rested your hands on his sides, holding onto his shirt. He slowly leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. Never letting go of your face in his hands.

‘’Can we be friends again?’’ He whispered.

You simply nodded as best as you could as his forehead was still against yours.

‘’Can you forgive me?’’ He whispered again, opening his eyes to look into yours.

You probably should stay mad at him, maybe you shouldn’t even forgive him but Bucky Barnes was like your kryptonite and when it came to him, it would take more than a fight to keep you away from him.

‘’You better never do anything or say anything to hurt me again.’’ You warned him.

‘’I won’t. I promise you I won’t.’’ He answered quickly.

You took a moment to look at him before giving him an answer. He brushed his nose softly against yours, repeating over and over again ‘’I promise.’’ and you believed him.

Deep down, you knew he’d probably hurt you again or maybe you would be the one to hurt him because these things happen, but it won’t ever be on purpose and in this moment he truly believed that he would never be the cause of your pain ever again.

‘’I forgive you.’’

The way his eyes lit up to these three little words confirmed to you that you had made the right decision.

Bucky Barnes owned your heart but you, you owned his everything. He’d go through hell and back if it meant putting a smile on your face.

He finally let go of your face to wrap his arms around your waist and pulled you closer until there was no more space between your bodies. He leaned down to bury his face in your neck, covering your skin with kisses.

In that moment, he made a promise to himself to spend the rest of his life showing you how much he loved you and how amazing you were, treating you the only way you deserved to be treated and to never give you a reason to be mad at him ever again.

He lifted his head up to look at you again. He kissed your forehead. ‘’You’re the only one I’ve ever called baby girl.’’

He kissed one of your cheeks then the other. ‘’I’m never going to be stuck anywhere with you because I want to be with you every minute of every day.’’

He kissed the tip of your nose, whispering the last part ‘’Natasha never stood a chance against you. No woman did.’’

Bucky finally confessed what he should have said, what he had wanted to say when the guys asked him about you, what he wished were the first things you’ve heard instead of what he had actually told them.

You owned him, his heart and his everything.

You were his everything.

Thank you to the anon that requested this from the prompt lists. I love angst so much! I hope you liked it.

[Taglist: @n3ssm0nique | @letsgoparty-ah-ah-ah-yeah | ]

[brunchable]

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 2 ]

Part One Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? Sexual Themes 18+ ONLY: fingering, cunnilingus, Bucky loves tiddies, dirty talk. Summary: Though you've become oddly close to SergeantBarnes, it's still difficult to act normal around him. A/N: I didn't think many would ask for a part two but here you go. divider by @cafekitsune

It was a peaceful evening in the apartment gym—or, at least, it was supposed to be. You had your plan: thirty minutes on the stair climber, some stretches, and you’d be out of there before any awkwardness could find you.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of weights clanging, followed by a deep, low grunt that made your entire body freeze.

You glanced up, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was. But, of course, there he was: Bucky, over at the hip thrust machine, setting up his weights directly in front of you. Perfect, you thought. Of all the machines in here, he has to pick the most… suggestive one.

Your eyes flicked back to the tiny screen on your machine. Stay focused, you told yourself. Don’t look. Just ignore him.

But the moment he started his set, you heard it—a low, powerful grunt that practically reverberated through the gym. You immediately bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead, pretending you weren’t having flashbacks to his other kind of workouts.

Another deep grunt.

Your hands clenched the stair climber’s handles like a lifeline. Do NOT look, you told yourself, the mantra echoing in your mind. But your treacherous eyes slid sideways, just for a second, and you caught a glimpse of him, face focused, breaths heavy as he powered through each hip thrust. The guy was practically a one-man gym commercial.

You looked away, focusing on your steps—your very uneven, slightly panicked steps. It’s just a hip thrust, for crying out loud! Nothing unusual here, you told yourself, trying to stomp out the heat creeping up your cheeks. But every time he exhaled, your mind filled with images of… well, his other performances.

Then, in the middle of one of his reps, Bucky let out a particularly deep, guttural grunt that nearly threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, your rhythm stuttered, and in a moment of pure panic, you clutched the handles and stumbled forward, practically throwing yourself onto the machine.

“Shit!” you yelped, fumbling to regain your balance as your legs moved faster than your brain, desperately trying not to faceplant.

You heard Bucky chuckle, that low, infuriatingly amused laugh, and felt your cheeks practically ignite. You looked up, heart pounding, only to find him smirking in your direction, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Careful there, Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Stair climbers are brutal.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” you squeaked, straightening up, trying to look like you meant to almost eat it. “Just… keeping things interesting. Got to keep the cardio exciting, you know?”

“Looks like it’s working,” he replied, wiping his forehead with a towel, his grin widening as he noticed your death grip on the machine. “You sure you’re good over there?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m great,” you lied, your face flaming as you tried to regain your composure. But he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, voice way too smooth. He paused, then tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta admit, though… this machine setup does feel a bit familiar.”

Your brain nearly exploded. Did he just—? He couldn’t mean… But his eyes sparkled with that infuriating, knowing look, and you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Your face went beet red as your foot slipped again, but this time you managed to catch yourself, narrowly avoiding another disaster.

“Uh-huh,” you said, laughing nervously, desperately trying to hold it together. “Well, enjoy your… uh, workout!”

“Oh, I am,” he said, chuckling softly. “Especially with the view.” He winked, setting up for another set while you tried not to spontaneously combust.

With one final, mortified glance, you turned your attention back to the stair climber, mentally swearing you’d never step foot in this gym again after this.

Since you survived the stair climber ordeal without faceplanting (barely), you decided it was time to move on. Somewhere—anywhere—that didn’t involve Bucky’s hip thrusts or his incessant, maddening smirk.

You zeroed in on the bench press. Safe, you thought, relieved. Just a standard exercise. Nothing suggestive, no chance of stumbling, tripping, or looking like a klutz. You grabbed the bar, took a deep breath, and mentally prepped yourself. Easy-peasy.

And then—because the universe simply refused to give you a break—you heard that all-too-familiar voice right beside you.

“Need a spot?”

You looked up and almost swallowed your tongue. There was Bucky, looming over you with that same damn smirk, wiping his hands on a towel like he was gearing up for some personal training session from your worst/best nightmares.

“Oh, uh… I—” you stammered, already feeling the heat creep up your neck. You’ve got this, you told yourself. Just let him help you. No big deal. You’re a mature, fully-functioning adult.

“Yeah, sure!” you squeaked, trying to sound normal as he stepped closer, positioning himself behind the bench. You laid back, gripping the bar, and immediately realized what a horrible, terrible mistake this was. You were now lying flat on your back, Bucky leaning over you, his face far too close as he focused on making sure you could lift the weight.

“You ready?” he asked, his face all business, but his lips still had that mischievous curve.

“Ready,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but up at him, trying to ignore how absolutely awkwardly intimate this felt. You started your set, breathing steadily as you lifted the bar, determined to act as if this were a completely normal workout.

But then, midway through the reps, he leaned down a little closer. “By the way, did you check out my new video?”

Your hands nearly slipped. You fumbled the bar, barely catching it as your brain short-circuited. 

“W-What?” you managed, voice strangled, heart racing.

“My new video,” he repeated, casually reaching out to help guide the bar back into place as you struggled not to lose it. “Thought you might’ve seen it by now.”

Your cheeks flamed, but you somehow managed to choke out, “N-No! I… I haven’t seen it!”

Bucky chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up, his voice taking on a teasing, almost disappointed tone. 

“Oh. That’s a shame,” he said, smirk lingering. “Didn’t have a costar this time—just me, actually. First time I’ve ever done that.”

Your mouth dropped open. Just him? Your brain skidded to a halt. Suddenly, you were far too interested in a video you’d just denied seeing. 

“Oh, um… interesting?” you squeaked, trying to keep your face neutral but definitely failing.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug, looking at you with twinkling eyes. “Guess you’ll have to let me know what you think… whenever you get around to it.”

“Actually, I… uh… I kind of stopped watching… since we, you know… know each other. Just… feels awkward.”

Bucky’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with amusement. 

“Oh, so you’re telling me we’re too close for you to watch my work now?” He raised an eyebrow, looking mockingly offended. “I thought we were supporting local artists.”

Your cheeks practically combusted as he said it, and you fumbled with the bar, desperately trying to pretend you hadn’t heard him. Supporting local artists? Was he serious right now?

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, absolutely mortified. “This is not— You’re not— I mean…!”

But he just looked down at you, that smug grin firmly in place as he leaned in, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state. 

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t you believe in supporting the arts?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, words completely failing you. “This… this is not the same!” you finally blurted, clutching the bar like it was your only lifeline.

“Oh really?” he replied, chuckling. “Because it sounds like you’re saying we’re too close for me to keep doing what I do. You know, my passion.”

You practically choked, waving your hands around in frantic denial. “No! No! That’s not— I’m not stopping you! I’m just— I don’t know, maybe supporting from a… distant, supportive spiritual place?”

He laughed outright, shaking his head. “So, what—you’re like cheering me on… but from across the street?”

You nodded vigorously, still trying to save face. “Exactly! Just… supportive… but in a non-participatory kind of way.”

“Got it,” he said, smirking. “So, I’m officially your guilty pleasure now.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he chuckled, clearly far too pleased with himself. 

Note to self: Avoid all future conversations with Bucky Barnes for the rest of eternity.

× × × × 

That evening, you were finally settled at your dining table, a bowl of pasta in front of you, determined to put the entire gym disaster behind you. You’d survived another encounter with Bucky—barely—and now all you wanted was some quiet, non-embarrassing time with carbs.

But as you twirled your fork in the noodles, your brain betrayed you, replaying his words from earlier.

“Did you check out my new video?”

You paused mid-bite, the fork hovering near your mouth as you stared blankly at the wall, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up. What could he have meant by “just me”? You tried to shake it off, forcing another forkful of pasta into your mouth. Nope, not going there.

But the thought lingered, nudging you, until you found yourself setting down the fork, fingers hovering over your phone. Just one quick search, you reasoned, glancing around your empty apartment as if someone might catch you.

You typed in the familiar site, thumbs hesitating above the search bar, nearly typing “SergeantBarnes new video” before you snapped back to reality, dropping the phone like it burned.

“Oh, no,” you muttered to yourself, horrified at how close you’d come. “Absolutely not. What am I, insane?”

You shoved another forkful of pasta into your mouth, shaking your head furiously. “I am not doing this.”

But as you continued eating, your eyes kept darting back to the phone, the curiosity gnawing at you, leaving you torn between common sense and the very persuasive power of nosiness.

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Get a grip, Y/N. You are absolutely not watching that video.”

...But maybe just a preview?

You groaned, stuffing your face with more pasta, determined to win this internal battle.

× × × ×

The next morning, just as you were heading out the door for work, you spotted something bright and obnoxiously neon-colored taped to the wall near the mailboxes. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, squinting at the bold, glittery letters.

POOL PARTY THIS WEEKEND! it proclaimed. Food, drinks, music, fun! Don’t miss it!

You raised an eyebrow, debating if you’d actually brave a building-wide party when suddenly, the quiet hallway was shattered by a loud, unmistakably ecstatic moan. The kind that could only mean one thing.

From none other than Bucky’s apartment.

You froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Is that—? Is he—?

A second moan, even louder than the first, confirmed it. This wasn’t just any moan; this was the sound of someone—some woman—having the time of her life. At what had to be eight o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, seriously?!” you hissed under your breath, glancing down the hallway as if there might be witnesses to this auditory ambush. Just then, the woman’s voice hit a pitch so high it practically reverberated off the walls.

You winced, clutching your bag like it could somehow shield you from this. Who even has that much energy in the morning? You took a step back, hoping to escape the sonic nightmare, but the moans only got louder, each sound more animated than the last.

You threw your hands over your ears, eyes squeezed shut as you muttered furiously to yourself. 

“Nope, nope, absolutely not. Not today, not right now.” You spun on your heel, practically power-walking down the hall, doing your best to drown out the soundtrack blaring from his apartment.

“YES, SERGEANT! OH MY GOD!”

You practically stumbled, muttering an alarmed, “Oh my god, stop!” as you picked up the pace, pressing your hands even harder against your ears. It was like some kind of cruel game—the closer you got to the elevator, the louder it seemed to get, echoing in your ears like a siren you couldn’t escape.

You winced, feeling your face burn as you all but sprinted down the hall, chanting, “Nope, nope, NOPE!” under your breath like a mantra. It was as if your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough, each step a desperate attempt to put some distance between you and… whatever was happening in that apartment.

Finally, you made it to the elevator, slamming your finger against the button with more force than necessary, glancing nervously over your shoulder as if the sounds might follow you. The doors mercifully slid open, and you dove inside, leaning back against the wall and pressing your hands over your ears one last time, breathing a sigh of relief.

But just as the doors began to close, one last triumphant shout echoed down the hallway, loud and clear, like the universe had decided you hadn’t suffered enough.

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling as the doors shut, wondering if this building had any quiet hours, or if you were doomed to start every morning with a full-blown soundscape of… Bucky’s extracurricular activities.

Note to self: Invest in earplugs. Maybe some noise-canceling headphones. Or a new apartment altogether.

× × × ×

You arrived at work looking like you’d barely survived a natural disaster. Traumatized, sleep-deprived, and still hearing the morning’s very loud soundtrack echoing in your mind, you slumped into your chair, hoping to quietly blend into the office scenery and get through the day in peace.

Naturally, that was too much to ask.

“Whoa,” Trish said, swiveling in her chair to eye you like you were a science experiment gone wrong. “You look like you just spent a night in a haunted house.”

“Or… like you had a wild morning,” Amy added, raising her eyebrows. “You okay there, Y/N?”

“Fine,” you muttered, barely making eye contact as you set your bag down, trying to erase the vivid flashbacks of Bucky’s… extremely enthusiastic co-worker.

Before you could even recover, Trish leaned in, her grin spreading like wildfire. “Sooo… did you finally get around to watching Sergeant Barnes’ new video?”

Your head snapped up, heart stopping in your chest. “Wha—no! Why would I… I mean… I—”

“Oh, come on,” Amy said, nudging you like she’d just caught you in a guilty pleasure. “You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s alone in this one.” She leaned closer, adding in a stage whisper, “The man has talent.”

“Uh-huh,” Trish agreed, nodding like a sage. “No costars this time. Just him, going all in. It’s… impressive.”

You clutched the edge of your desk, mentally scrambling for any kind of response that would shut them down without revealing the secret you swore you’d take to the grave: that Sergeant Barnes was actually your neighbor.

You swallowed, managing to squeak out, “You know we’re in an office, right? As in, the place we do work?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re all professional now!” Trish smirked, crossing her arms as she gave you a knowing look. “You were all too eager to do some ‘research’ when we told you about him the first time.”

“Yeah!” Amy joined in, her grin absolutely diabolical. “You should be thanking us! The way you’re looking right now, I’d bet you already took a look this morning.”

You spluttered, mortified. “No! I mean, of course not! It’s just—this is… inappropriate.”

Amy snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure. And here I thought you had a little curiosity.”

You glared, fully prepared to tell them off, but Amy cut in first, smirking as she leaned over your desk. 

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s just us girls. Tell me you don’t have some curiosity about what the man can do when it’s just him and the camera.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, struggling to keep your cool. “No, I’m not curious! Not at all. And maybe you two shouldn’t be either, because, oh, I don’t know… WE ARE AT WORK!”

They both cracked up, sharing a delighted high-five as you buried your face in your hands, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Oh, we’re just messing with you,” Trish said, barely holding back laughter. “But seriously, girl… you look like you need to unwind. Maybe with a drink or… you know… a little quality screen time?”

“Or maybe someone live and in-person?” Amy chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, face down on your desk, cursing the fact that they would never, ever know the full story.

× × × × 

You stepped into the lobby, utterly drained from the day, just as the elevator doors began to slide shut. Without a second thought, you bolted, slipping in right before they closed. Only then did you realize the universe was playing tricks on you.

Because standing right there, with a half-smirk on his face and way too much knowing mischief in his eyes, was Bucky. Alone.

You froze, instantly regretting every choice that had led to this moment. But it was too late now, so you plastered on a polite smile and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he took you in, leaning casually against the side of the elevator as he said, “Tired?”

You laughed, and before you could stop it, the laugh turned into a borderline deranged chuckle. 

“Oh, yes, thank you very much,” you replied, sarcasm slipping out before you could rein it in. Then, muttering under your breath but clearly audible, you added, “Maybe keep it down too… in the morning.”

He chuckled, looking way too amused. “Sorry about that. Work, you know? She, uh… went home right after, don’t worry.”

Your face went flaming hot, and you whipped your head to look straight ahead, pressing your lips together like that would somehow save you from this horror. 

“Oh, you don’t… you don’t have to explain it to me,” you stammered, feeling like your cheeks were practically on fire. “I’m not worried.”

The smirk only widened. “Good to know.” He leaned in just a little, adding, “I wouldn’t want to keep you up… unintentionally.”

You choked, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you let out a mortified laugh that you could barely stop from turning into a squeak. Just get to your floor, just get to your floor… you chanted internally, keeping your gaze laser-focused on the elevator doors.

But you could feel him watching you, could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as you tried to pretend that your life hadn’t just devolved into a rom-com nightmare.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged at your floor. You stepped out, sighing with relief, only for Bucky to step out right behind you.

“Hey,” he called, making you pause and turn reluctantly. He was smiling, hands casually shoved into his pockets as he looked you over. “Are you coming to the rooftop pool party this weekend?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the answer escaping before you could even pretend to think about it.

He laughed, clearly not deterred. “Aw, come on. You sure? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head vigorously, waving him off. “No, no, I’m good. I’m… not much of a party person.”

“Really?” he replied, stepping a little closer, his smile turning into something dangerously persuasive. “It’s just neighbors hanging out, not some crazy nightclub thing. Good music, food… probably no loud… work, either.”

You glared, suppressing an eye roll as he gave you a wink. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, still grinning. “If you don’t show up, who am I going to talk to about all the ‘work’ complaints?”

You stifled a laugh, trying to maintain your resolve. “Pretty sure there are other people you can bother with that.”

“But none of them have your… constructive feedback,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the floor as he pretended to look shy. “And honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. I’m a handful at parties. Who else is going to stop me from climbing onto tables?”

You snorted, crossing your arms as you tried not to crack a smile. “I highly doubt you’re a handful at a pool party.”

He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. “Come and find out.”

You looked away, shaking your head but feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward. “Bucky, I’m not going.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll leave me up there with all these people who… don’t know me as well as you do?” He tilted his head, giving you a mock-pout.

Your face turned red, and you sputtered, “I don’t know you! I barely know you!”

“Oh, so all those research sessions weren’t exactly getting to know me?” he replied, grinning as he watched you turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“You—ugh, you’re impossible,” you muttered, finally laughing despite yourself.

“That’s what everyone says,” he said, his voice softening just a little as he held your gaze. “Come on, Y/N. I promise, no loud work. I’ll even save you a spot.”

You sighed, feeling the last bit of resistance crumble. “Fine. But only for an hour.”

He beamed, triumphant. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something to actually talk about… outside of work.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flip. This is going to be a disaster, you thought. But somehow, you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.

× × × × 

The weekend took forever to arrive, but somehow, you survived it—mostly by avoiding Bucky and doing your best not to think about that ridiculously intriguing video he’d hinted at. Nope, not even a peek. It was your own personal victory, though it took every ounce of willpower you had.

And now, here you were, standing at the rooftop entrance, mentally psyching yourself up. You’d put on a two-piece swimsuit under a white sheer cover-up, feeling only slightly self-conscious as you stepped out. Only because you hated drawing attention to your body. 

The party was already in full swing, a mix of upbeat music and laughter filling the air. You scanned the crowd for a certain troublemaking neighbor, but no sign of him. Great, you thought, rolling your eyes. Bucky drags me up here, then vanishes like an ass. Typical.

You made a beeline for an empty lounge chair, setting down your bag and towel, hoping you’d have a chance to relax before anyone else noticed you. But just as you were about to sit, a deep voice called out.

“Hey there!”

You turned to see an equally impressive figure—a tall, muscular guy with a sun-kissed smile, striding over with a confident swagger. 

“I’m Johnny,” he said, flashing a grin as he handed you a cold glass of beer. “Welcome to the party.”

“Oh! Thanks,” you said, taking the glass, feeling only slightly overwhelmed by all the testosterone on this rooftop. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“Likewise,” he said, eyes flicking over you with the appreciation of someone who knew exactly what he was looking at. “Didn’t expect to see a new face up here. I know most of the regulars.”

“Yeah, I… usually keep to myself,” you admitted, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze.

“Well, glad you’re here,” he said smoothly, gesturing to a chair beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

Before you could answer, another familiar voice cut through the air, low and unmistakably amused. “Johnny.”

You turned slowly, bracing yourself for whatever cocky look Bucky had in store, but when you finally laid eyes on him, your brain just… stopped. No thoughts, head empty, because the second he strolled into view, you swore you heard the sultry opening saxophone of Careless Whisper start playing, echoing dramatically in your head like some corny, slow-motion rom-com entrance.

He moved in perfect sync to the imaginary music in your head, each step more absurdly cinematic than the last. This can’t be happening, you thought, but somehow, there he was—tan skin, swim trunks slung just right, and that damn casual shirt hanging open over his shoulders. The man looked like a vacation ad, except he was bringing you dangerously close to a heatstroke.

As he got closer, the sax solo in your mind reached ridiculous, life-altering levels of intensity. Why do you have to look like this? you thought, nearly choking on the vision before you. Bucky’s smirk turned into something almost smug, like he knew exactly what effect he was having, as if he, too, could hear the George Michael anthem of seduction playing in your head. You half-expected him to whip out an actual saxophone and start serenading you right there.

You swallowed, barely keeping yourself from drooling, and willed yourself to stay composed. Get a grip, you told yourself, though you were about 98% certain your jaw was on the verge of dropping.

“Sorry, Johnny,” he said smoothly, not even glancing at the other guy. “I think she already has company.”

You quickly tried to compose yourself, forcing a neutral expression as you willed your face not to betray the sheer catastrophe your brain was going through. 

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strangled as you felt. Inside, you were practically screaming. Why do you have to look like a freaking Greek god, Barnes? It’s rude, honestly.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “You two know each other?”

Bucky leaned casually against the lounge chair next to yours, flashing a grin that practically oozed mischief. 

“You could say that. She’s my neighbor,” he said, his tone implying… well, all sorts of things. You immediately knew that everyone within earshot was definitely getting the wrong idea. “And I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell for a while now.”

Come out of her shell? You wanted to throttle him. But before you could retort, Johnny, ever the gentleman, just gave you a knowing wink and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. 

“Well, guess I’ll let you take over, then,” he said, sauntering off with an amused smile.

You sighed, turning to face Bucky, who looked all too pleased with himself as he settled in beside you, stretching out like he owned the place. 

“So, you made it,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his drink as his eyes did a once-over that was a little too thorough.

“Yep,” you replied, your voice barely concealing your exasperation. “I showed up, just like I said I would. Where were you?”

He shrugged, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Was just giving you a chance to make some new friends,” he said, his tone way too casual.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had given you. “Please. You just love making an entrance.”

He chuckled, clinking his glass with yours. “Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

As he leaned back, his gaze lingered a little too long, making your cheeks heat up. 

“Nice cover-up, by the way,” he commented, smirk widening. “It’s… modest.”

You shot him a look, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the sheer fabric draped over your swimsuit. “Why, thank you. That was kind of the point.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice dropping just a notch. “Shame, though. Bet that swimsuit’s got a whole lot of personality under there.”

You practically choked on your drink, coughing as you glared at him. “You’re such a flirt, Barnes.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “Hey, just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

You settled back in your chair, determined not to let him get the upper hand. But as you sat there, pretending to ignore him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, you were enjoying this game just as much as he was.

You took a deep breath, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, who was looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Like I said, just one hour,” you told him firmly, crossing your arms as if that would somehow fortify your resolve against whatever mischievous plans he undoubtedly had.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more devilish. “Oh, I’m sure an hour will be more than enough.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “For what? So you can drive me insane and then sit back and enjoy the show?”

He chuckled, leaning a little closer, and you felt your heart rate spike. “Maybe. But I was thinking more along the lines of just… keeping you entertained.”

“Oh, I’m plenty entertained, thanks,” you shot back, trying to sound unimpressed despite the heat creeping up your neck.

He shrugged, unfazed, and settled back into his lounge chair. 

“Good. Then let’s make it the best hour of your week,” he said, flashing you a wink that sent a new wave of exasperation—and, annoyingly, a bit of excitement—through you.

You huffed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your drink, determined not to let him see just how much that smirk was affecting you. Just one hour, you reminded yourself. What could possibly happen in one hour?

As you and Bucky settled into a strange, almost comfortable silence, you heard a booming voice from across the pool.

“CHICKEN FIGHT!” Johnny’s voice rang out, loud and enthusiastic, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

You whipped your head around, eyes widening. Johnny was wading into the pool, rallying everyone like some kind of pool party commander. “Come on! Everyone in! We need two teams!”

“Oh, no,” you muttered under your breath, instinctively shrinking into your lounge chair, hoping you’d be overlooked in the shuffle. Absolutely not happening, you thought, clutching your drink like a lifeline.

But Bucky, of course, was already grinning ear to ear. He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief. 

“You heard him,” he said, patting your shoulder like this was some team-building exercise. “We’re going in.”

“What? No!” you hissed, clutching your drink tighter as if that would save you. “I didn’t sign up for a chicken fight. I’m just here for moral support.”

Bucky laughed, standing up and stretching in that way that only he could pull off without looking ridiculous. 

“Oh, come on,” he said, flashing you that smug, challenging grin. “Afraid of a little friendly competition?”

You shook your head, digging your heels in. “Nope. Not happening. And it’s not friendly—it’s dangerous!”

“Oh, don’t be such a chicken.” His smirk widened, and then, with a theatrical sigh, he added, “Guess I’ll just have to find someone braver.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re really going to play that card?”

He shrugged, glancing around with feigned disappointment. “Guess so. Shame though. I thought you could handle it.”

It was the final straw. With an exasperated groan, you threw down your drink and stood up. 

“Fine! I’ll do it.” The second the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, especially as you saw Bucky’s smirk morph into full-blown satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he said, clearly thrilled with himself.

You sighed, slipping off your sheer cover-up, feeling a sudden self-consciousness as you stood there in just your swimsuit. Bucky’s gaze flicked over you with open admiration, his grin widening just a bit. You forced yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, rolling your eyes at his blatant staring.

“Enjoying the view?” you deadpanned.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes twinkling. “But we’ve got a fight to win.”

Before you could second-guess your decision, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the pool. Johnny spotted the two of you and cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! We got a team! Bucky and… Y/N, right?”

You forced a smile, giving him a thumbs-up while silently planning your escape route. But before you knew it, you were waist-deep in the water, Bucky hoisting you up with surprising ease, positioning you on his shoulders.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” you muttered, gripping onto his head for balance as he adjusted to your weight. “I feel like a five-year-old at a theme park.”

“Just hold on,” he chuckled, steadying himself under you. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands firmly held your thighs, and suddenly, this was a whole new level of intense. Focus on the fight, not the incredibly attractive man holding you in the pool, you told yourself, cheeks flaming.

Johnny waded over with his partner—a muscular, tattooed guy named Jake who was definitely taking this way too seriously. 

“Ready to lose, Barnes?” Jake taunted, grinning up at you.

Bucky chuckled, his hands tightening on your legs just slightly. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, you’re up top!” Johnny yelled, clapping his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

You barely had time to brace yourself before Jake and his partner charged at you, water splashing everywhere as they made their move. Instinctively, you shrieked, grabbing onto Bucky’s hair for dear life as the force of the impact sent you both wobbling.

“Easy on the hair!” Bucky grunted, though he was laughing, his shoulders steadying beneath you as he held his ground.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, adjusting your grip. But before you could even catch your breath, Jake’s partner was lunging at you again, arms flailing as he tried to knock you off balance.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you muttered, your competitive spirit kicking in. You threw your hands out, grabbing his wrists and pushing back with everything you had, determined to hold your ground.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Bucky cheered from below, his laughter bubbling up as he shifted to help keep you steady. “Show ‘em what you’ve got!”

Fueled by his encouragement—and a surprising amount of adrenaline—you leaned forward, pushing against Jake’s partner with all your strength. The guy’s face twisted in concentration, but with one final shove, you managed to throw him off balance. He teetered, arms flailing, before finally toppling backward into the water with a massive splash.

“Yes!” you shouted, punching the air triumphantly as Johnny and Jake went down in a flurry of water and defeat. “Suck on that!”

The words had barely left your mouth when reality crashed back in. You blinked, suddenly realizing that maybe—just maybe—you’d gotten a little too carried away. Oh god, did I really just shout that? you thought, the heat rushing to your cheeks as your triumphant grin quickly turned into a sheepish smile.

“Well, look at you,” Bucky chuckled from below, clearly amused by your victory-induced outburst. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I,” you muttered, feeling the embarrassment settling in as you tried to slide off his shoulders, desperate to save whatever shred of dignity you had left. But as you started to wriggle down, you realized Bucky’s hands were still firmly gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

You froze, looking down at him. “Uh, Bucky… you can, you know… let go now.”

He glanced up, smirking. “Oh, but you’re comfortable up there. Why rush it?”

You huffed, your face going a deeper shade of red. “Because I’m very much done being the human flagpole, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as he kept his hold, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Nah, I think I like you right where you are. Adds a bit of… height to my reputation.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your mortification level spike. “If you don’t let me down, I swear I’ll—”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, finally loosening his grip, letting you slide back into the water. But just as your feet touched down, he didn’t back away—instead, he shifted closer, his hands still lingering on your waist, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that sent your pulse racing.

You took a half-step back, but there was no real room to escape, not with the edge of the pool just behind you and Bucky’s broad frame in front, all mischief and steady, unbreakable eye contact. 

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “you could stay longer.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky leaned just the slightest bit closer, his hands still warm and steady on your waist, his smirk turning softer yet somehow more intense. Every nerve in your body seemed to jolt to life as he held your gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to find your voice amid the chaos of your thoughts. 

“Uh… stay longer? For what?” you managed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse was anything but.

His smirk grew, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that was dangerously charming. 

“For the victory lap, of course,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “After all, we did just crush the competition. Wouldn’t want you running off too fast.”

“Oh, right, a victory lap,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure but finding it difficult with his hands still lingering on your waist. “But I think the whole pool just watched that ‘lap’…”

“Then they got a good show,” he chuckled, his voice warm with that teasing tone you were starting to know all too well. “But the best part of winning is savoring it… right here.”

Your face went hot as his fingers brushed slightly against your sides, sending a little spark of energy straight up your spine. 

“Bucky,” you said, the word barely a whisper. “You’re… awfully close.”

“Oh, am I?” He didn’t back away; instead, he raised a brow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you were up there, champ.”

Your cheeks went impossibly warmer. “That was different. That was, you know… competitive. Strategic.”

“Competitive and strategic?” he echoed, his grin turning almost wicked. “Well, in that case…” He shifted his hands slightly, bringing you even closer as he leaned in. “Let’s see if you’re still competitive outside the game.”

He hovered just a breath away, his gaze flickering to your lips for a moment that felt like an eternity. You felt yourself leaning in almost on instinct, your pulse racing, and for one wild, heart-stopping second, it seemed like he might actually kiss you.

But then, as if on cue, someone nearby let out a loud, obnoxious cheer, snapping both of you out of the moment. The sound jolted you, and you quickly took a step back, breaking the tension as reality crashed in.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking slightly too smug as he let his hands fall from your waist. 

“Guess that victory lap will have to wait,” he murmured, giving you one last look that promised he wasn’t quite finished with his teasing yet.

You swallowed, desperately trying to get your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, guess so.”

As the night went on, you’d lost count of how many concoction drinks had been handed to you, and at this point, your usual sense of caution was practically nonexistent. The rooftop was a haze of laughter, lights, and music, and the whole place felt like it was buzzing with energy. Any embarrassment from earlier had dissolved into pure, uninhibited confidence, each drink making you feel bolder than the last.

One minute, you were in a drinking game, cheering Bucky on as he took down a round of shots like it was nothing. The next, you found yourself in a game of truth or dare that had somehow escalated into body shots. You’d laughed, nearly choking on your drink, when you saw Bucky sprawled out on a table, daring you with that infuriating grin to take your turn.

“Oh, come on, that's not fair,” you slurred, trying to wave off the dare as he raised an eyebrow, that smug look firmly in place.

“Back out now if you can’t handle it,” he teased, lying back and folding his arms behind his head, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The crowd cheered you on, and fueled by liquid courage, you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing your lips to his abs, feeling his warm skin under your touch as you took the shot in a quick, heated moment. His laughter mingled with the cheers around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush from the attention, from his gaze, from the heat spreading across your face.

Before you knew it, you were in a round of flip cup with Bucky as your teammate, and he downed his drink, slamming his cup down with a victorious shout. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand straight when he finally set you down.

Somehow, you ended up on the makeshift dance floor, music thumping as the party around you roared on, the lights around the rooftop pool casting a glow over everyone. You’d danced with other people throughout the night, but Bucky seemed to have a way of drawing you back, his energy magnetic, his laughter contagious. It was like he was everywhere you turned, keeping pace with you, matching every laugh and smirk with one of his own.

The music thumped, lights flashed, and the DJ’s voice blared over the speakers, “Alright, party people! Here’s the deal—find someone you want to… get close to tonight and give them a kiss, a hug, heck, even a lick if you’re feeling bold!”

Everyone around you burst into cheers and laughter, the party’s energy wild and reckless. By now, you were buzzing on so much liquid courage that everything felt like the best idea ever, including the fact that you were swaying against Bucky, who’d somehow stayed by your side all night.

He leaned in, his smirk way too mischievous, and the alcohol made it feel impossibly close. 

“Did you hear that?” he slurred, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. “I think it’d be a shame if we ignore the DJ’s request don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but he just grinned wider, leaning in until his cheek was practically pressed against yours. 

“Hold still,” he whispered, a laugh lurking in his voice.

Then, in a move so outrageous you could barely comprehend it, he dragged his tongue slowly from your chin up to your forehead.

“Bucky!” you shrieked, stumbling back and half falling over yourself, laughter bubbling out of you as you clutched your face in shock. “Oh my god, you did not just—”

He stepped back, looking beyond pleased with himself, the grin on his face pure, unfiltered pride. 

“What? I’m just being… obedient,” he slurred, raising his hands in mock innocence.

“You are the worst!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep it together, grabbing his arm as you steadied yourself, still half in disbelief. He just chuckled, clearly reveling in your reaction as he pulled you right back into the rhythm, your laughter mixing with the cheers around you as the dance floor pulsed with music.

They cranked up the music, and suddenly, the beat was all around you, pulsing through the crowd, as if daring everyone to let loose. The energy was infectious, and you found yourself moving in sync with him, laughing as you danced together, every touch and sway between you crackling with a chemistry that had been simmering all night.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your hands drifting to his chest, letting your fingers splay against the warm, solid muscle. Your movements grew slower, more deliberate, and his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you against him until there was barely any space left between you. His gaze dropped, glued on your lips, and you felt a shiver run through you, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. His nose brushed yours, and you looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the same surprised intensity reflected in his eyes.

Bucky held your gaze, his breath mingling with yours, and you could feel the tension building, electric and undeniable. He was waiting—leaving the next move up to you. If you wanted him, you knew he’d let you take him.

🎶Just let me know, can you be the one to hold and not let me go?🎶

Heart pounding, you somehow managed to press yourself even closer, feeling the swell of your chest against him, igniting a flush across his cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment you saw in his eyes—it was heat, a look that sent a thrill down your spine. His hand shifted, his fingers tracing along the curve of your hip, and you could feel the strength of his grip as he held you.

🎶I need to know, could you be the one to call when I lose control?🎶

The tension was unbearable, and as you tilted your face up, your lips brushed his in the softest, most hesitant caress—a question, an invitation. His resolve crumbled instantly. His hand slid to your waist, gripping the flesh there as his other hand threaded into your hair, guiding your head back so he could kiss you deeper, tasting you with an intensity that left you breathless. You let out a startled, breathless sound, and he responded by pulling you closer, cradling your face as if you were something precious, something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your lips parted for him, and he kissed you with a hunger that had been building for some time. His tongue traced yours, swallowing your quiet moans, anchoring you to him as his hand kept you steady. It wasn’t forceful, just… tender, like he was holding something priceless.

Your breaths came heavy, your cheeks flushed, but you barely noticed; all you could feel was him, his touch, his heartbeat pounding against yours, and the fire in his veins matching your own. In that moment, propriety, the crowd around you, everything else faded into oblivion. If he wanted you to take him right there, you couldn’t even think of saying no.

Every nerve in your body was alive, tingling with an incredible sense of lust and need as his arms held you close. His lips pressed harder, deepening the kiss, his passion and intensity only spurring you to match it. You melted against him, completely consumed by the heat and need between you, and for those moments, it was as if nothing else existed. Oxygen became secondary; the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, growing more fervent with each second.

Finally, when the need for air became overwhelming, you both broke apart, gasping, your faces inches from each other, breaths mingling as you took each other in. His lips tingled, mirroring your own, and every beat of your heart seemed to urge you back into his embrace.

“Let’s get out of here… yours or mine?” Bucky stammered between breaths, his voice husky, his eyes still filled with fire. His body radiated heat, and he looked like he’d dive into the pool at any second just to cool down.

“Mine,” you whispered, your voice breathless, cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze.

× × × × 

You both barely made it down the hallway before the urgency hit, the tension that had been building all night finally snapping. Bucky’s hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, pulling you against him as you fumbled for your keys, the both of you practically tripping over each other in your haste. As soon as you managed to unlock the door, you pushed it open, stumbling inside, his mouth crashing into yours before it even closed behind you.

Wetness pooled inside you, the need for him overwhelming as you pressed back against the door, his body meeting yours in a frenzy of heat and desperation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and deliciously manly, a reminder that he was all raw power and intensity. You loved it, the way it scratched against your cheek, adding to the thrill and making your skin tingle wherever he touched.

His lips found the side of your neck, warm and insistent as he kissed his way down, nipping softly, each touch leaving you breathless. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, exposing the full length of your neck to his hungry mouth. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers pressing in firmly, possessively, as his teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“God,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You could only gasp, clutching onto him as his mouth moved up to your jaw, his hands never stilling, gripping you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Bucky reached a hand up and placed it on your left breast, over the bikini top, and then brought his hand up to the back of your neck to pull you in closer to him. You undid the straps of your top, and down fell the top, exposing your naked breasts to him.

Holy shit—this can’t be real. Am I hallucinating? Is this actually happening? Wait—oh god, is he about to put my boobs in his mouth?!

Like a hungry child desperate for milk Bucky suckled on your nipple, squeezing the bottom of your breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. You looked down at him, licking, sucking, rubbing, and he looked as though he was transported to paradise.

He worked himself into a frenzy playing with your breast, until he wanted more. He lifted you up under your thighs, off the floor, and pressed your back against the wall.

Oh shit!

He kissed you again, his hand sliding down to press against you over your bikini bottom. With a quick, desperate motion, he tugged the fabric to the side, his fingers brushing bare skin, making your breath hitch.

As his hand cupped you, he began to move slowly, his fingers exploring, teasing. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice thick with surprise and satisfaction. “You’re so wet. Is this what happens every time you watch my videos?”

“M-maybe…” you stammered, cheeks heating, barely able to meet his eyes as a grin spread across his face.

His fingers slid inside you, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending sparks through your entire body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he asked, “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as he continued, each movement intensifying the heat pooling inside you. 

“Mmmh—why would I tell you that?” you managed, trying to sound teasing but barely able to keep your voice steady.

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his fingers pressed deeper, his thumb brushing against you just right. “Because I want to hear every filthy detail.”

He kissed your other nipple, the one he missed when before. Bucky always gave equal time to the breasts. Suckling on one nipple, fingering you harder and harder, you were getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate you.

“Oh my god—” You swallowed, feeling your face heat up and you could feel yourself slightly sobering up. With a nervous laugh, you finally gave in, your voice soft but steady.

“Fine… sometimes, late at night—ah—I’d imagine you between my legs, devouring me like your life depended on it,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks burn. “I’d—fuck—I’d think about your hands, the way they’d feel inside me, moving exactly like this…mmmh,” you gasped as his fingers pressed deeper, your own words sparking the desire between you. 

His fingers never stopped their steady, torturous rhythm, each movement deliberate, coaxing you toward the edge with a patience that was as maddening as it was intoxicating.

“And? That’s it?” he asked, his tone thick with amusement, daring you to reveal more. His thumb brushed against you in just the right way, as if encouraging you to keep talking, to give him every last detail he was craving.

“And—hah—I’d picture you… spitting in my mouth while you’re turning me on, you’d put your hand on my neck while I beg you to i dunno? reorganize my guts—because you’re so big Bucky. . . I don’t think you’ll fit inside me.”

“Oh the innocent looking ones are always the dirtiest.” Bucky’s smirk turned darker, his fingers pressing into you with a newfound intensity, his digits hooking and pressing into your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to jerk against his palm. 

“And was I just as good in your imagination as I am now?” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending shivers straight down your spine.

“Yes… yes…” The words left your lips almost involuntarily, your hands gripping his shoulders as your nails dug in, grounding yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Your face twisted with pleasure, each stroke of his digits making it harder to catch your breath. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a fierce satisfaction as he watched you, his smirk deepening. “Better than you imagined?”

"Mhhm," you tried to respond, but it came out more like a needy moan, your voice barely a whisper under the intensity of his touch.

Bucky's smirk grew at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in every reaction, every tremble. "That’s what I thought," he murmured, his voice dark and teasing.

Bucky carried you through the open door of your bedroom, his movements purposeful, every touch sending sparks across your skin. When he reached the edge of the bed, he lowered you onto the mattress, but before letting you go, he bent down to capture your lips in a kiss—a kiss that felt as intimate as it did electrifying.

You couldn’t help but notice the difference; this was something he never did in his videos. Bucky never kissed anyone on the lips on screen. But here, he kissed you slowly, deeply.

His hands moved to your shoulders, firm but gentle as he guided you back into the soft downy mattress. “There you go, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “Lean back.”

He knelt down at the side of the bed. He pulled off your panties, the final barrier to your sex. He pushed your legs apart and back, and gazed at your pussy, already wet for him.

He stared at your exposed pussy for ten seconds, admiring it like it was the greatest work of art he had ever seen.

"Your pussy," he said, his lips nearly brushing your sex. "It's beautiful.”

You lifted your  head up and looked at him. Your jaw was dropped and you were already starting to feel tingles up your body, even though he hadn't licked you yet. You heard his breathing get heavier and heavier, he was so excited to put his lips on your pussy.

Two large fingers of his left hand spread your lips. Two large fingers of his right hand rubbed your clit in strong circles. Each circle sends a shock wave through your body.

"You smell fantastic," he declared, and he dove his mouth right on top of your wet and stimulated clit. Up and down he licked. Up and down, his mouth clasped tight against your pussy.

"Oh," you moaned, as your eyes rolled up to the back of your head. Your arms—with a mind of their own—grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted them back, presenting yourself to this man who used to be on the screen and was now bringing you to ecstasy. He'd only just started to lick you, but even so you felt ready for him to enter you and never leave. 

As Bucky continued to eat you like you’re his last meal, each suction sending thrills through you, a sudden wave of doubt crashed over you, freezing you in place. Images flooded your mind—women he’d been with, all effortlessly beautiful, the kind who exuded confidence and allure. How could you compare? This had to be nothing more than another fleeting thing for him, a “friendship” that would end the moment the night was over.

You tensed, your hands moving to gently push him back. “Bucky… wait,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up from between your legs, his expression softening instantly as he met your gaze. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle, concerned.

“I… I just…” You stammered, the words getting caught in your throat before you finally managed, “I don’t want to be… one of your girls.”

Bucky blinked, taken aback, his expression shifting as if the words had struck something unexpected, almost offended. 

“One of my girls?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you searched for the right way to explain. “I… I don’t do one-night stands,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable. 

Bucky nodded slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he rose to his feet. "Mhm—no, I get it... it's because of my job," he said, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.

You sat up, noticing the shift in his demeanor. "Are you mad?" you asked softly, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad," he replied, though his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. "I just didn't think you'd see me that way."

"See you what way?" you pressed gently.

He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Like I'm some guy who just goes around collecting flings," he explained. "I thought you knew me better than that."

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. “It's not that I think poorly of you,” you said. “It's just... your work makes things complicated for me. I don't want to be another notch on anyone's belt.”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “I understand where you're coming from,” he admitted. “But believe me when I say that this—” he gestured between the two of you “—is different for me.”

“How do I know that?” you asked quietly.

He stepped closer, his eyes sincere. “Because I don't share moments like this with just anyone,” he said. “You think I go around kissing people like that? Off-camera, in my real life?”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he crossed his arms, clearly growing more frustrated. “I thought you knew the difference between who I am on-camera and who I am off it,” he replied, his tone clipped.

You sighed, trying to hold your ground. “Bucky, you’re the one who kept teasing me to watch your videos, practically encouraging me to make it my new hobby—how am I supposed to ignore what you do?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in irritation. “Because those videos aren’t me,” he said, voice rising. “You’re acting like everything I do there is just some extension of my personal life, but it’s a job, Y/N. I don’t go around living like that off-set.”

You crossed your arms, not caring that the blanket had slipped off, leaving you bare before him. 

“And I’m supposed to just... pretend that all of it doesn’t mean anything?” you shot back, feeling a twinge of vulnerability but refusing to let it show. “You kept making those jokes, those comments—you have to see how confusing it is for me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “And you think I just do that with everyone? That every person who walks into my life gets these... moments with me?” His gaze softened slightly as he gestured between the two of you. “If that were the case, do you think I’d be here, right now, trying to convince you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. His intensity was throwing you off balance, forcing you to question your assumptions. You’d expected him to brush this off or laugh, not take it to heart.

He shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?” He looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t have to be here, fighting for this. I could have walked away and yet here I am.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of his words settled heavily between you. The intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his voice—it was all too much, too fast, and yet it tugged at something deep inside you, making it impossible to brush off. But your heart was pounding, confusion and vulnerability swirling together, and you weren’t ready to face everything his words were unearthing.

“I… I think we should call it a night,” you said quietly, barely able to meet his gaze, the words coming out softer than you intended.

For a moment, he looked at you, his expression unreadable, and you could see him processing your response. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice subdued. “If that’s what you want.”

The room felt suddenly colder, the tension between you now tinged with a quiet ache. You could tell he was holding back more that he wanted to say, but he respected your decision, his expression guarded as he looked away.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say, with emotions you weren’t quite ready to admit. 

“Thank you… for understanding,” you managed, feeling the weight of your choice settle over you.

He gave a small nod, his jaw tight, before he turned toward the door. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly, pausing for a moment as if hoping you might change your mind, before finally leaving your apartment, the main door shutting made you flinch even though Bucky closed it softly.

The silence that followed felt heavier than you expected. The tension that had filled the room moments ago lingered, and a wave of frustration washed over you, mixing with regret and uncertainty. You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow, buried your face into it, and let out a muffled scream, releasing all the emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. The pillow absorbed the sound, but it did nothing to ease the twist of emotions churning inside you. Finally, you pulled the pillow away, feeling just as conflicted as before, wondering if you’d made the right choice… or a terrible mistake.

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

@rabbitrabbit12321 @alexsl-universe @xunquish-blog @hzdhrtss @winchestert101

@alyana-luvs-u @itsbuckysworld

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[embbarnes]

Filthy Fingers.

summary: You check on Bucky after the mission in Madripoor.

warnings: Angst | TFATWS!Bucky | PTSD episode | Sexual trauma | Mentions of SA & SH | Slight SH | Vague descriptions of medical procedures | Swearing

a/n: Back on my bullshit with angsty fics. I wish the series had done something more than brushing this scene off as nothing. I have similar trauma with his experiences, so I sort of put my heart into this. I hope you enjoy, he needs a hug. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.4k

It horrified you, even if you knew about it prior.

After the mission, you searched for Bucky upon returning to the safehouse that Zemo had insisted on using. Bucky had already retreated to the bedroom you both shared, locking himself inside. You knew something was wrong, you knew him better than anyone honestly. He had barely muttered a few words about feeling exhausted before withdrawing from the group. The locked door and his sudden disappearance had you concerned about his well-being, especially considering the shitty mission you had done.

Zemo pushed Bucky to act as the Winter Soldier again, the man took great pride in being his handler and controlling him like a puppet, just as HYDRA had done. He relished in ordering him to attack and heel like a dog, and his cruel comments about using his body, about selling him in exchange for information, made you furious. Sam didn’t quite get the depth of the situation, though he had a good idea, he just didn’t know the extent. He didn’t want to ask.

Bucky’s behavior back at the house seemed unusual, even for someone typically reserved like himself, and you couldn't decide what to do, debating whether to check on him or give him the space he seemed to desperately need.

You also had to fight the urge to break Zemo's jaw.

As deep night fell over the city, a hush descended upon the streets. Sam and Zemo, too, decided to call it a night, bidding their farewells before retiring to their respective rooms. You found yourself alone in the kitchen, the sudden quietness of the house sounded so loud in your ears. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made the decision to head towards the bedroom. Your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you approached the door.

Your knuckles gently rapped against the wooden surface as you announced your presence. The sound seemed to hang in the air for a moment before you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. You stepped into the dimly lit room, your eyes immediately fell on Bucky. You weren’t surprised that he wasn't asleep; sleep often eluded him, and considering the memories that undoubtedly came back to him after the mission, you didn’t blame him.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. His gaze was fixed intently on the wooden floorboards, tracing the intricate patterns etched into their surface. The silence in the room was heavy and Bucky remained motionless, not even lifting his eyes to acknowledge your entrance.

You closed the door with a gentle click and cautiously made your way towards him, your footsteps barely audible on the floor. As you approached, you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. "Hey..." You began, your voice barely above a whisper, carefully considering each word as you prepared to navigate this situation.

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you shifted your position, crossing your legs where you had been kneeling. Your eyes never left Bucky's face, searching for any sign of acknowledgment. He remained motionless, his lack of response hanging heavy in the air between you. But his stillness was preferable to a negative reaction. At least he wasn't pushing you away or lashing out in his distress.

"I know this is stupid, and it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but..." You paused, weighing your words carefully before continuing, "Do you want to talk about what's going on? About what happened?" The question left your lips in a gentle, non-pressuring tone, leaving the decision entirely up to him. You sat there patiently, ready to listen if he chose to open up, or to simply provide a comforting presence if he preferred silence.

Bucky remained silent initially, his gaze fixed intently on the floor. He drew in a shaky, uneven breath, his eyes noticeably bloodshot and surrounded by dark, heavy circles. It was obvious that he had been struggling with sleep, but you knew that even a small amount of rest would be beneficial compared to none at all, especially dealing with the Flag Smashers and all the bullshit you were both thrown into again.

"Why don't you try to lie down and get some rest? I'll stay right here with you," you suggested gently, your voice filled with concern as you waited patiently for any sort of reaction from him. After a moment of hesitation, you added, "I know you might not feel like sleeping right now, but we have so much shit we have to do tomorrow.” You mumbled, “A few hours, at least.”

Hoping to appeal to his practical nature, you attempted to persuade him to sleep by emphasizing the logical reasons for doing so. However, your efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky remained unresponsive. You sighed, your arm stretched up to reach for the blanket that lay haphazardly across the bed, intending to cover him and provide some comfort if he wasn’t going to sleep. Just as your fingers brushed against the soft fabric, Bucky's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I felt it," he murmured, his words so faint that you had to strain to hear them, the pain and vulnerability in his tone made your heart stutter.

You turned to look at him, your hand still grasping the edge of the blanket, and you settled back down fully on the seat. Your eyes met his, searching for understanding as you softly inquired, "Felt what?"

"Hands," he muttered, his gaze flickered momentarily before meeting yours again. "I felt... hands. On me. They weren't his," Bucky spoke slowly but with a certainty that sent a chill down your spine. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Not Zemo's hands, but I would have preferred if he didn't touch me at all during the damn interrogation." His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air between you.

You watched as his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to retreat into the labyrinth of his thoughts. A maze he still couldn’t get through, he’d always be lost, stumbling upon memories randomly and losing others he had a grip on. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken memories and the weight of past trauma.

You nodded, remaining silent for a moment as you processed the situation. The anger bubbled within you, fueled by Bucky's own emotions. Zemo's arrogant behavior had struck a nerve, his deliberate attempts to provoke Bucky were infuriating. The man was more than just an asshole in your eyes and words; he was a calculated manipulator, intent on unraveling all the progress Bucky had made.

His creepy obsession had drawn tension between the group. Zemo had persistently tried to breach Bucky's defenses, attempting to draw out the Winter Soldier persona that lay dormant within him. His tactics were cruel and precise, aimed at undoing years of healing and dragging Bucky back into the darkness of his past.

What made it so much worse was Zemo's obvious familiarity with the red book - that cursed tome that held so many of Bucky's painful secrets. You were certain Zemo had pored over every page, absorbing all the horrific details it contained. The book was a comprehensive record of Bucky's torment: control words that could strip away his free will in an instant, precise actions that would render him a puppet, and graphic descriptions of the punishments HYDRA inflicted whenever Bucky showed the slightest hint of disobedience or failure. The thought of Zemo possessing this knowledge, wielding it like a weapon against Bucky, made your blood boil.

"Bucky..." you began, your voice soft and laden with emotion. You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your empathy. "I'm so... sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. It's just…not fair…that you have to endure all of this. You never asked to be pushed into this shit again." There was clear frustration in your voice with a mix of anger at the circumstances and deep concern for Bucky's well-being.

Your mind drifted to the apartment you shared with Bucky, while he wasn't always at his best there either, it was a vast improvement compared to situations like this. The space was familiar. He was surrounded by sights and sounds he knew, Bucky found a measure of peace inside the walls, mostly because you were there with him. He still struggled with his demons, but within the safety of your home, he could face them without the added pressure of external threats or responsibilities that weren't rightfully his to bear.

But it seemed that no matter what, the outside world was determined to drag him back into conflict.

In your apartment, there were no manipulative villains, no reminders of his painful past, no hidden ulterior motives to hurt him, just the warmth of your presence and the promise of a better future than past. He had you, and you were always there with him, helping him navigate through the storm that always threatened to pull him down again.

"M'used to it," he mumbled weakly, his voice devoid of emotion, carrying the weight of resignation and defeat. The words fell from his lips like heavy stones of the burdens he had borne. "I've had worse than simply being traded away for sexual favors."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't just be used to it," you countered, "You didn't deserve anything they put you through. I don't care what justifications they gave or what they forced you to do. You, Bucky Barnes, are a good person. You, at your core, are pure and untainted. You are the one in control now. Not the soldier they created, not HYDRA with their manipulation, not anyone else. It's all you."

Your eyes locked onto his, your gaze gentle yet unyielding, radiating unwavering belief in him as you tried so desperately to let him see how much faith you had in him. "You've already won over their programming, Bucky. You've reclaimed yourself."

"Then why won't his memories go away?" Bucky croaked out, his voice cracking under the weight of suppressed emotion. "I want nothing more than to...to forget. It's...it's so hard, doll," his voice wavered, the floodgates of emotion threatening to burst open despite him trying his damnedest to keep it all in. "Why can't I forget the bad, and why can't I remember the good?"

Bucky sounded completely worn down, his voice cracking with heavy emotion as he spoke. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and self-loathing washing over him. The weight of his perceived inadequacy pressed down on him, making him feel incredibly pathetic and foolish.

Your support through numerous similar episodes didn’t shake off the intense feelings of guilt and self-deprecation that consumed him during these moments. It was as if he viewed himself as nothing more than a heavy burden, a complex problem that you were obligated to solve time and time again. Even a glued vase is still cracked and much weaker than an untouched one.

No amount of reassurance or comfort seemed capable of mending his fractured psyche. He’s still broken, no matter what you do to help.

In his mind, he was irreparable, his former self having been long gone. Hell, he's not even whole. The prosthetic arm, the threatening object that he despised with every fiber of his being. Vivid, haunting memories flooded his consciousness as he recalled the moment HYDRA had finally attached the mechanical limb.

The sensation was overwhelmingly unpleasant - the arm felt unnaturally cold against his skin, its heavy weight throwing off his balance and coordination. In his disoriented state, he could feel the lifeless metal appendage hanging limply at his side, dragging him down both physically and mentally. The phantom sensations of drills and saws assaulted his senses, causing him to relive the trauma of the procedure.

Wide awake.

He was desperate to rid himself of the foreign object, so he clawed frantically at the point where metal met flesh, feeling the cold, unyielding surface beneath his fingertips. The memory of being forcibly restrained to prevent him from damaging the prosthetic flashed through his mind, the clinical indifference of his captors etched permanently behind his eyelids. It was clear to him that their sole concern lay with preserving the integrity of the mechanical marvel they had created, with no regard for the man to whom it was attached.

He was nothing more than a vessel for their prized creation - the arm was their priority, not the broken soldier who bore it.

Then their hands came.

Never-ending hands on his body, everywhere.

They always came when he couldn't fight back.

Teasing, pinching, groping, twisting, penetrating.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it -

Bucky's loud thoughts were abruptly interrupted as you reached out and gently grasped his flesh hand, your voice filled with concern as you spoke, "Bucky, hey, hey, stop... It's alright, you're safe now, it’s just you and me." The urgency in your tone was notable, yet you managed to keep it soft and reassuring.

His brow furrowed deeply, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his features as he slowly turned his gaze from you to his hand, which you now held firmly in your own, having pulled it away from his body. A searing hot sensation radiated from his scar, and with a sinking feeling, he realized what he had been doing.

He had been scratching at the old wound, hard. Clawing, digging, as if trying to remove something from his skin. His arm, the metal - titanium, vibranium - did it matter?

"It's okay, you're fine," you whispered gently, your voice acting like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. Your hands worked carefully but firmly to keep his own from returning to where he had been clawing. Your thumb gently rubbed circles on his inner wrist in an attempt to keep his mind grounded. You were always scared during these moments, worried for his well-being as the rooted fear threatened to overwhelm you.

But you pushed it down, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor for his sake. Your voice remained steady as you continued to comfort him, "It's okay... you're doing so good, Buck Buck..." The silly name slipped out naturally, reminding him of where he was and who he was with. You always called him Buck Buck instead of just saying Buck once, you knew that endearment made him think of Steve. And he didn’t like doing that with Steve being gone.

"Breathe," you gently instructed him, guiding him to take slow, deep breaths as the memories and vicious flashbacks gradually began to subside. "You're doing great, just like that. Keep focusing on your breaths." You continued to offer words of encouragement and carefully guide him through the breathing exercises, your voice soft yet steady. His eyes, now rimmed with red, glistened with moisture, the strain of the moment evident in his features.

Delicate streams of tears traced paths down his cheeks, tiny rivers carrying his pain and guiding it out of him. The sight tugged at your heart, but you remained a pillar of support and strength for him to lean on.

"Make it stop," he rasped out to you, his voice thick with desperation and fear. "Make it stop," Bucky repeated, his body instinctively moving towards you as if seeking shelter from an invisible storm. "They're on me," he added, his words barely above a whisper, laced with a haunting mixture of panic and pleading.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him the second his body touched yours, enveloping him in a protective embrace. You would always wait for him to make the first move closer, respecting his space and not wanting to inadvertently exacerbate his episodes. Your touch was gentle yet firm, grounding him in the present moment.

"No one is touching you but me, baby," you assured him, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "And I'm not doing any of those awful things. I would never. You're safe here with me, Bucky. We're getting through this, you’re doing so good. Just focus on me and taking those breaths okay?"

Bucky remained pressed against you, his body tense and trembling as he desperately attempted to hide himself inside your smaller body. His hand darted up to his shoulder, fingers curled as if to claw at something unseen. Then his hand quickly moved to his neck, desperately grasping and pulling at an invisible entity.

The frantic movements sent a chill down your spine as you watched him struggle against phantoms of his past, it never ceased to horrify you to see him react to the glimpses he was shown again from HYDRA. You tried not to let your imagination run wild, but the implications were clear and it only made you feel even worse seeing him play it out.

You felt helpless.

All you could really do during these episodes was be there for him.

Holding him close, enveloping him in a gentle embrace that provided a sense of security and reassurance, something so simple yet so luxurious in his life. Your touch was carefully calibrated, always mindful of his boundaries and sensitivities, ensuring that every contact communicated safety and understanding. You learned what he liked, disliked, what made things better and worse. You would soothe him with those very tender caresses, running your fingers through his hair or tracing calming patterns on his back, grounding him in the present moment.

Bucky really liked when you rubbed his back.

You would speak words of encouragement, your phrases were carefully chosen so they’d break through all the rampant thoughts flooding his mind. You reminded him of his resilience and progress. You whispered affirmations of his worth, validate his feelings, and reassure him of your presence and support throughout the episode.

“It’s not real, Bucky. No one is here, no one is touching you. It’s just me. You are safe.”

The efforts you put into comforting him so tenderly often felt mediocre or not enough, you always felt like nothing was ever working or meant a thing. But for Bucky, they were his lifeline, you helped him more than you could possibly fathom. Having endured these episodes alone for so long, the contrast of facing them with your loving support made them significantly easier, more manageable.

You held him for a while, gently cradling his body against your own. Most of the time, he just needed this physical connection to be brought back to reality, to feel grounded and secure again. Your arms enveloped him in a protective embrace, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Sometimes you’d wrap him in a blanket, but you didn’t think Bucky was going to let you move to grab one.

Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hands up and down his back just how he liked. Your fingertips tracing intricate, soothing patterns across the fabric of his shirt, random shapes and swirls, sometimes a letter or number that he’d weakly repeat into your chest. The repetitive motion seemed to have a calming effect on both of you, a silent reassurance that everything would be alright.

As you continued to hold him, your gaze wandered towards the window. Through the thin, gauzy curtains that hung there, you could make out the blurry silhouette of the city in the distance. The lights twinkled like earthbound stars, their glow softened and diffused by the cloudy barrier between you and the outside world. It created an almost dreamlike atmosphere in the room, emphasizing the intimate bubble you two had created. It reminded you of home.

Still whirling from the events that led to this moment, your mind gradually began to quiet. Bucky appeared to be much more relaxed, no longer breathing heavy and shaking as terribly during his attack.

"You okay?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room cast a deep, night blue hue, partially dulling the angry red blotches that you knew still marred Bucky's face from your sight. Bucky’s sweet, rosy nose glistened from his recent emotional turmoil.

He turned his face fully into your chest, burrowing against you as he sniffled. Amusement colored your voice as you gently teased, "Are you wiping your snot on me?" Your tone remained cautiously gentle, not wanting to upset the fragile calm that had settled over him.

Bucky's response came muffled against your chest, a small chuckle that vibrated through you. His voice was barely audible and tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Maybe..." he admitted as he pulled back and finally looked you in the eye.

You rolled your eyes, casting a concerned glance back at him as you gently used your thumbs to caress his cheeks. The tender gesture was comforting for him. "Are you okay?" You repeated. You wanted—no, needed—to hear the truth directly from him, to gauge his emotional state beyond the façade he often presented.

Bucky instinctively leaned into your touch, finding solace in the warmth of your hands against his skin. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, almost involuntarily, as he drew in a deep, shaky breath. The contrast between your warm, caring touch and his own clammy cheeks made him shiver. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, to absorb the comfort you offered.

"Yeah... I'm..." Bucky started, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, reconsidering his words. "I'm fine." Another pause. "I mean, no, I'm not but... you know. I'm good." The contradiction in his statement was painfully apparent. He cleared his throat, as if trying to dislodge the emotions threatening to spill out verbally, and slowly opened his eyes again.

They met yours, a swirl of conflicting emotions evident in their depths. It was a typical answer from him, a reflexive response born from decades of forced conditioning and denial of feeling. You had expected it, of course, knowing his tendency to downplay his struggles, but that didn't make it any less concerning.

"Well, it's late. Maybe we should try to get some sleep?" Your lips softly kissed his forehead, tenderly giving him some affection. As you pulled back, you looked into his eyes and reassured him, "If you say you're alright, then I believe you. I trust your judgment, and I want you to know that I'm always here for you, whenever you feel ready to talk about it. There's no pressure, no rush. And in the meantime, I'm more than happy to simply be here, to be your comfort, your support... your pillow, if that's what you need."

"You're too good to me, doll... you really shouldn't have to deal with all this," he said softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. He rubbed his nose a little with the back of his hand, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "You've got more than enough on your plate already. Your own struggles, your own dreams to chase. You don't need my baggage weighing you down too."

"Hey, now. I won't hear any of that," you insisted, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. Your voice was firm but warm, you understood why he felt the way he did, but you didn’t like it. "I love you, sweetheart. That means I love every part of you - the good, the bad, and everything in between. Taking care of you, making sure you're okay... it's not some burden I'm shouldering. It's not something I'm just 'dealing with' because I have to."

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. "I'm here, by your side, because that's exactly where I want to be. Because you deserve love, support, and care. And because giving you those things brings me joy. It's as simple as that."

You squeezed his hand softly, your eyes meeting his with a look of pure, unconditional love. "So please, don't ever think you're too much or that you're burdening me. You're not. You're the person I choose, every single day. And I want to be here for you, through thick and thin."

"I love you too, doll... I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still avoiding your gaze, but you didn't mind. Vulnerability was difficult for him and you appreciated his honesty even in his discomfort.

"Let's get comfortable, we need to rest for whatever shit is going on tomorrow," you said softly, your voice filled with care and concern, yet a small bite for this ridiculousness of the mission. You were still annoyed you and Bucky had been dragged into this mess.

You began to shuffle the comforter and blankets on the floor, creating a cozy nest beside the bed. Bucky's brow furrowed as he watched you meticulously prep the area, his eyes following your every move with curiosity and confusion.

"You're not planning on sleeping on the floor with me, are you?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief as he observed you fluffing the pillows to ensure maximum comfort. The idea seemed to both perplex and touch him deeply. You had before, of course, at home. But he always insisted you go back to bed after his nightmares died down and he could fall asleep on his own. He didn't like the idea of you sleeping on the hardwood floors with him at night, especially when you could have the bed all to yourself.

"Of course I am," you replied without hesitation, your voice firm but gentle. "You think I'm gonna just let you sleep by yourself after this? Nope, that's not happening. I'm gonna be right by your side, supporting you through this. That's a promise, Bucky, and I intend to keep it." Your words were filled with determination and unwavering loyalty, leaving no room for doubt about your commitment to him.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, fully aware that you wouldn't budge from your decision, despite the presence of a perfectly comfortable bed in the room. You'd pick sleeping on the floor with him over the warmth and softness of the bed any day. Bucky inched closer and settled into the makeshift sleeping area you had prepared.

Once situated, he gently pulled you towards him, enveloping you in a tender embrace. No words were exchanged, but he carefully repositioned himself, shuffling down slightly to rest his head against your chest, seeking comfort in your presence.

He wanted to be held tonight, and that was perfectly fine with you.

Thank you for reading. -em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[frostironfudge]

Hey girl, do you still do requests?

If so can you do something like those tiktok filters where you choose your soulmate but it's avengers choosing between each other who they'd want and reader cooses bucky all the time making the rest of them confused and later bucky pulls her into his lap when there is no place to sit and she tells him why she wants him and its all sweet reasons and at the end she says "the arm though..." you can end it here or add something else!😊😊

I'd Choose You - Bucky Barnes

Summary: based on the above prompt, i've sort of altered the filter used i hope thats okay

Warnings: none, pure fluff, some mutual pining, non canon compliant, the avengers are a big happy family.

Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader

An: i hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took this long!

Main Masterlist

You were hearing the same song playing from the living area over and over. The stirring of your pasta wasn't this repetitive. Turning the stove off you find Natasha and Wanda sprawled across the couch and watching videos via the projector.

You tilt your head watching the woman on the screen tilt her head side to side, picking between the avengers, in the end she lands on the picture of Wanda. She then goes on to explain her reason for picking Wanda, stating her perseverance and strength inspires her. Her friends come in on screen and they all giggle when she admits of the crush she has on her as well.

The screen moves upward another video with a man loads, he keeps on choosing, Tony Stark rolling his eyes at the other presented choices. His reasoning is the facial hair. You join Nat and Wanda's laughter.

"Is this the latest trend?" You ask as the next video loads. Natasha nods in response to your question.

"There are so many picking you as well." She assures scrolling upwards on the tablet till the old video she saw loads. You watch as your picture is paired against Steve's his picture disappears as yours is picked. It continues as you're picked over everyone else.

"What's all this?" Steve, Sam and Bucky walk into the living area. Their gazes fixed on the screen.

"It's a trend, picking their soulmate from amongst the avengers. Or picking the avenger they adore the most." Wanda explains, its silent again as the familiar song replays on the next video.

Sam does a hoot as he's picked in this video. Steve chuckles, you look at Bucky, he remains stoic. Then his eyes meet yours, a smile breaks out across his face drawing your own smile forth.

"You know what would be a great idea?" Sam pipes up.

Bucky looks at him then back at you, a silent conversation takes place. one in which he's telling you; 'Bird brain has an idea.' you shake your head at him. He knows you're chastising his little unsaid comment.

"What?" Nat turns to Sam.

"We should do this amongst us." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I don't think that is a good idea. It could hurt sentiments." Steve reasons, Tony clicks his tongue. Entering with his coffee mug.

"Oh come on Cap, no one will say anything if you pick me." Tony teases Steve. The blonde's cheeks tinge red.

"Tony." He rolls his eyes.

"Go on Nat, lets see what Tweety Bird has in store for us." Tony raises his mug towards Sam.

"I'm not Tweety if anything I'm," Sam struggles to find a better bird character but flounders.

"Chuck?" Bucky offers.

"I'm not an angry bird." Sam glares at him.

"Getting angry there birdy." You giggle, Bucky laughs as Sam grumbles grabbing the tablet and setting it up to record,

"Just for that ya'll aren't getting picked." He warns before sifting through and picking Natasha, Steve give a little hey of protest when he is cut off first.

Tony points at you after most of them are done, some how Clint, Bruce, Vision, and even Peter were roped into the trend. You look at Bucky as you walk towards the set up.

Bucky bites his lip, he wants to be hopeful. This seemed to be the easiest way to confess his feelings for you. if you didn't reciprocate he could always say it is a platonic choice.

He watches as does everyone, right off the bat you're asked to pick between Steve and him. He exhales when you pick him.

Over and over you pick him, the choice is as easy as breathing for you. The picture of Bucky was from his first day reinstated and on a press release after a mission. You keep looking at it with a soft smile. Tilting your head to keep picking him.

At the end his picture moves from the side to the top of your head, you begin to move,

"Wait, you have to say why." Wanda reminds, a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, um, he's warm and fuzzy when we cuddle during movies," You look back at Bucky, "he's brilliant, a good listener, makes really good pancakes even if he burns the first three always." you laugh and Bucky's grin only widens.

"What else, Doll?" He walks over to you.

"Your eyes, always find my way to them."

"They do seek you out in every room." He cups your cheek.

"And this arm though." Your skin heats, Bucky smirks.

"What about it?" He questions, eager to know.

"Strong yet gentle." You breathe.

"I'd choose you." Bucky admits, his blue eyes convey something deeper. Something your had been waiting to be reciprocated.

"Oh Bucky." Your palm covers his own, held against your cheek.

Another silent conversation takes place, feelings affirmed.

His lips find yours, the softest of kisses shared, the rest of your family cheers.

"Finally." Sam adds.

-x-x-x-

Permanent Bucky Tag: @slutforsexyseabass

[arcane-vagabond]

Trapped in Silk Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The world has been turned on its head ever since news spread that vampires are not only very real, but many have walked the earth undetected for centuries. You keep to yourself, head down and out of everyone's way. That is, until you bump into a stranger while avoiding a group of men chasing after you. You think you've seen the last of this stranger, only to run into him once more. Your life is turned upside down as he envelopes you into his life and into his riches. Are you a passing fancy, or are you the latest addition to his treasure trove? Only time will tell. (Vampire!AU)

Series Content Warning: Semi-dark fic, Blood (this is about vampires so yeah), Violence, Alcohol, Drugs, Vampire hierarchy, Vampire tropes, Immortality, Possessiveness, Possible gore, Some Dubcon elements, angst, fluff, smut. I think that does it for generalities, but individual chapters will have their own warnings.

All posts related to this series will be tagged as "TIS", "Trapped in Silk", and "Vampire!Bucky".

*Denotes smut.

Masterlist

Series;

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two (Coming Soon)

Drabbles;

Nothing to see here yet...

Headcanons;

Nothing to see here yet...

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Buckys innocent neighbor who bakes him cookies and muffins just cause. The girl next door who has the coziest apartment he's ever been in. Shelves filled with books along with plenty of comfy blankets decorating the couches. Bucky has his own place right across but home is with her (even if she doesn't know it yet).

She's the type of girl he's going to take his time with, asking her out on a date, just coffee and a walk in the park. Nothing more than a kiss on her cheek at the end of the night. Another date. Dinner. Another kiss to her other cheek. He wouldn't dare rush anything, especially not someone as soft and sweet as her.

He feels like such a dirty little pervert when he thinks about her afterwards when he's alone in bed, all the blood in his body rushing south, and fuck he's so hard. He tries to ignore it, he didn't want to do something so debauched by thinking of her like that, he even tries to think about his grocery list, laundry, he'd probably wash his arm later, it would probably be fine in the dishwasher-

Nothing worked.

He groans, shuffling and kicking his sweats off, hissing when his hand goes down to tug at his aching cock, relief flooding his veins at the sensation. He lets his mind wander to how adorable she'd be, the way he'd take her apart in the most gentle way. Lay her against the pillows while he holds those soft thighs apart, giving her the most feather light suckles on that perfect clit, basking in all the sounds she'd make. He strokes himself faster thinking about the way he'd get her ready to take all of him. How he'd make it so good for her-shit he was going to blow-maybe if he was lucky, one day she'd let him put his cock in her mou-

"Fuck!!" Bucky threw his head back, spurts of cum shooting from his sensitive head, his post orgasm haze leaving him feeling like a filthy old man. She were here making him baked treats and he was jerking his dick off like a sick fuck.

Then the night finally comes. Bucky is ready to cuddle and nothing else but he's thrown off because never in his wildest fantasies did he expect this.

She is the girl who sends him reeling the first time he takes her clothes off one by one revealing dark ink on her back and hips. He has to suppress a growl, his eyes growing wide at the scantily clad lace that covers her body.

"Like what you see, Sergeant?" she practically purrs in his ear while he lets his han ghost over her bare skin, his chest heaving when his eyes fall to her perfect breasts, hints of silver peeking from under her lingerie, there was no way-

"Can I?" He asks breathlessly, his hand reaching behind to unclasp the bra, those pretty pierced nipples begging to be sucked.

Bucky who turns into a fucking menace, his entire world flipping upside down when she grinds down on his crotch not hiding exactly what she needs from him. He doesn't even have the ability to hide how feral he is, letting all his inhibitions slip.

-

"My little bunny's a slut, fuck, c'mere" He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, hauling you over to his bedroom like an untamed beast, tossing you onto his bed with no remorse. You're in nothing but your panties which he rips right off, your thighs squeezing together at the way he stalks over to you, his hungry eyes raking up and down your body without an ounce of shame. He tugs his sweats down to reveal his leaky cock, stroking it at the edge of his bed after tossing his shirt off.

"See this baby? Been fuckin' stroking and touching myself like a fuckin' teenager because of you-" He throws off his pants before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your thighs, spreading them apart with his knees, "-and you've been here lookin' like God damn sin under those cute little sweaters"

He flicks his cockhead against your clit, humming at the clear beads of his arousal that drip onto your cunt.

"Fuck James, need more, pl-"

"Nuh uh, what was that you called me earlier, sweets?" He lets out a dark chuckle, the veins in his cock throbbing as he tightly holds the base, waiting to hear it again.

"Sergeant" you whine with mischief in your eyes and Bucky is a goner. He'll taste you later and most definitely feed you his cock another day but right now he wants to be nowhere else other than your pussy. He wants to watch you take every bit of him, rolling over to lay on his back while you straddle him, his length slotted against your cunt. He holds it up for you with a cocky look on his face, moaning when his tip breeches your tight pussy, your walls gripping his swollen, pink head.

"That's just the tip baby, c'mon, sit on it, wanna put all of my dick in you, that's it, good girl-shittt"

"Oh fuccckk,s'big" You moan feeling the stretch as you sink all the way down, panting and staying still while you adjust to his size.

"That's it bunny, that's it, ride me, ride your Sergeant" He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to grind down on him, making you feel his entire cock in your stomach. "You're a slut for big dick aren't you baby, acting all cute and shy when all you really wanted was the winter soldier's cock"

Bucky wasn't even sure where all the filth spewing from his mouth was even coming from but he couldn't stop.

"S'that it bunny? Say it baby, tell me how much you wanted my fat cock in you"

"Wanted it! F-cuk Sergeant, wanted your cock s-o-so bad!!"

"Fuck yes!!" His feet plant to meet your bounces, his hips thrusting up, slamming his entire length into you. "M'close, fuck bunny, gonna cum already, I can't hold it-

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed. You feel to good. He rubs your clit needing you to cum all over him so he can let go.

"Please, cum all over Sergeants cock baby, give it to me, be a good girl n'cum, c'mon, cum on my dick, yes, oh fuck yes I can feel it-milk it, shit touch my balls-"

You nearly collapse as your orgasm starts to wash over you, his sponge head hitting the most sensitive parts against your walls while he toys with your clit. His voice is muffled as you start to feel waves of pleasure consume you but you head just enough to reach behind, rubbing his heavy, so full of cum ba-

"FUUUCCCCKKK" He grabs you and wraps his arms around your body while he relentlessly thrusts up, biting down on your shoulder while he lets out the sluttiest, loudest moan with 0 remorse. It feels too good and he's sure the neighbors can hear but honestly, everyone should know how amazing it feels.

-

"I got you pretty baby" Bucky coos as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, a shiver running through you while you float in bliss. Bucky pulls the covers up, deciding to cuddle up with you for a bit before running a shower, his previous demeanor replaced with the far less debauched version of him.

Anyway, just an idea. Also, it's past my bedtime.

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

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

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

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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

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

Frankly, you were mortified.

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

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

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

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

“Put it down.”

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

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

“Are we done?”

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

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

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

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

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

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

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

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

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

“You like skylines?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James,” you hissed.

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

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

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

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

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

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James!”

Again with that name.

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

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

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

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

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

Like he’d read your mind.

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

“Just let it happen, honey.”

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

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

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

“N-no, Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open the fucking door!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

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

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

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

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

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

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

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

You barged in and froze.

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

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

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

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

He was only met with silence.

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

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

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

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

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

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

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

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

“James.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

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

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

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

“Okay.”

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

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

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”