#reader x buckybarnes

[drdawnbreaker]

Here me out. Right after Bucky has finally settled into a routine at the compoud with the others now that he's a free man. He slowly starts to explore hobbies again and pick up old habits he used to have when he was younger in the 40s. One of those, being smoking.

Now, I'm not saying smoking is not good for you. And Bucky knows thats, but fuck does it feel nice to have a smoke right after a mission. One with a glass of whiskey and a vintage vinyl lowly playing as he sits spread leg on his nice leather sofa that Sam and Nat helped him buy.

And when he met you, oh he was fucked. You quickly became his little devil on his shoulder. He'd have a cigarette after sex (pun intended) with you, and he swore He'd never felt more relaxed. After a long mission, you could taste the whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, driving you to ride him until he was near past out. He thought you were everything he needed in his life...

Until you convinced him to try weed. Oh boy. The team thought he was a different person the one time they caught him high. His filter, gone. His sass, tripled. and his sex drive... through the fucking roof!! He has you bent over the back of the couch, blunt between his plump lips as he pounds into your dripping cunt. Your fogged brain high and happy as you feel Bucky send you over the edge again and again. Both of you would be fucking like rabbits before, either A) you both pass out. Or B) someone would come looking for you two. God forbid the poor sap that walks in on you two going at it.

Double points if it's steve. He's either joining or becoming a tomato and running away. Noting in-between.

[barnesnatts]

New look at Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes in Marvel's THUNDERBOLTS.😍🫶🏻

[justkending]

It's just a papercut... (Drabble)

Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)

A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!

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"Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission! And from the likes of it, bullets aren't even going to be the thing that finishes the job!" I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.

"Shut it!" he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. "I'm losing them."

"And likely me with them," I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn't care for it.

I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.

"Goon, five o'clock!" I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden.

Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases.

"Still on you!" I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I'd lost my backup weapon.

"I see that!" Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him lose his balance some.

However, it wasn't effective enough. "I got it," I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. "Do me a favor and try and stay straight for longer than 3 seconds!" I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly.

I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me.

They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley.

A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack.

"We need to lay low for the night," I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley.

He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. "There's a hotel not far from here that'll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy." He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow.

I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides.

We don't say much as we get to the hotel- both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.

While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it's Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process.

"Got it. We'll head to the airport in the morning," I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone.

When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark's ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick hand gesture.

"Yeah. We're fine," I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I'm behind a closed door. "He's being a dick as per usual," I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. "No, Steve. I don't need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it... I said it as a joke more than anything-" He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me.

When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, "Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can't-" There's a protest on the other end. "What was that? It's cutting out." I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. "Steve says hi," I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket.

"Sure," he says back, and I'm not sure if it's unconvinced or unbothered... or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.

"You really need to lighten up," I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me.

"Don't feel like."

"Do you ever?"

The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off.

"What was that?" Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last.

"What was what?" I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant.

"That look. You flinched."

"Yeah, no," I shake my head. "Your eyesight must be getting worse with age."

"My eyesight is fine," he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. "We're here," he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access.

"I call the shower first," I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room.

I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and move to warm up the water. If there is one thing I've learned about going on missions with Bucky, it's that the man's superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING.

So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem.

Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip to muffle my pain. It's not bleeding anymore, which tells me it's not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it'll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it.

When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one, given the job, but I can't find it. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn't prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won't ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that's taking over my body now that I'm not going 100mph.

I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it's the only bed in the room. The sound of cheers from baseball on the TV is quickly tuned out.

"Um," I start, hands out as I assess the space. "What's this?" I ask.

"A bed," Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. "You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself."

I cross my arms and flinch when I graze my cut but quickly roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue.

"Well, did they not give us another option or maybe a second room we could have-"

"What was that?" he cuts me off.

"Hm, what was what? What do you mean-?" I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows, hands on my hips.

"You made that face again."

I roll my eyes. "I'm sore," I shrug, scoffing and even I know I'm a horrible actress right now, so I don't make eye contact.

"That's not a sore grimace. That's something else," he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me in almost a predatory way.

"Stop that." My arms move from my hips to my chest and around me, and my discomfort only makes a smirk appear. "Stop. It's weird."

"No, what's weird is why you're being so weird," he remarks with a sassy face.

I blink at him a few times, feeling much less intimidated thanks to his comeback. "Good one," I said, turning and going to his backpack now.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag.

"I think I put something of mine in here. I can't find it in my bag," I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away.

"Stop going through my stuff. You're worse than Sam," he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically.

"I just need-" I feel the small plastic box I'm looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. "Nevermind. I found it."

"What are you talking about-"

"Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth," I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. "I'll be out in five minutes," I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again.

Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier.

"Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?"

"My toothbrush!" I lie. Why didn't I say toothpaste? That would make so much more sense... "I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them." I cringe at myself.

"How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine's black," he notes.

"A very dark brown," I argue, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. "Just give me a second-"

"You're being weirder than normal," he groans in frustration on the other side.

"Yeah, well, get used to it," I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. "Jesus," I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky's staring at its handle that's hanging on by a thread before back at me. "Hey!" I look at the door and back at him. "They're going to charge us for that."

His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused.

"What the hell is that?" He points at my stomach, where I'm frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display.

"A paper cut." Dear God. What the hell happened to my logical excuses?

His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to my eyes before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view.

"When did this happen?"

"Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty," I sigh, realizing I wasn't talking myself out of this one anytime soon. "But that could be a stretch," I add.

He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look.

"Let me see," he sighs, bending down to get a better view and looking at the injury from a head-on angle.

"It's just a scratch, Barnes. I'll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can't fix," I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit.

He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I'm sitting with him in between my legs.

"They used a serrated knife," he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn't doing it myself two seconds ago.

"Um, excuse me, but I can-"

"I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don't have to tell me," he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn't know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. "This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job," he notes, and I'm a little stunned by the turn of events. "Ready?"

Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I'm not going to stop a good thing from happening.

"I don't think it can hurt more than the knife itself," I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. "Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc." I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting.

I don't feel it instantly, and just as I'm about to ask what was taking him so long, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct to hold him back. "Jesus H. Christ," I grit through my teeth. "What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?" I let out a slow breath through my lips and quietly say, "I'd pick the knife again. I'd pick the knife again. The knife for sure."

"It's Banner-strength disinfectant," he says with a stupid little prideful smirk, yet is dabbing the cut ever so gently as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. "You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we're not in the cleanest country." He's fully concentrated on my cut.

"What?" I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce specifically make it and pack it for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have forgotten mine.

"Relax. Tensing doesn't help," he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area.

All sense of humor drops slowly from his face, and he gives me a look. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting."

"When was I supposed to tell you?" I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the sharp stings. "As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn't say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn't even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it."

He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it.

"Watch yourself," I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. "There can easily be two injured people in this room."

"No need for both of us to get stupid injuries," he grumbles.

I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me.

"Sorry for getting stabbed," I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. "I'll make sure to ask the assholes shooting and swinging at me next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet," I exaggerate. "I'll tell them my partner said I'm not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don't end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated." I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom.

I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me.

"I need to finish patching you up. If it's not done properly, you can get sick." He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space.

"I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn't my first time in the field, although I'm sure you believe otherwise," I scoff in anger. "Just," I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. "I'm going to get some air," I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him.

"No. You're going to let me finish patching you up. Now..." he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. "Sit. Down." I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn't ask him to even start, by the way!

"Good girl," he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind.

"Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-" I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, 'really?'. "Oh, sorry, did you hear that?" I say with fake regret.

He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he's been nothing but cold to me.

As he's patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there.

"What?" he finally asks. "Stop staring at me."

Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper.

"Cut it out," he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. "You're creeping me out."

I let out a single laugh and shake my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. "You're so fucking confusing," I state, standing as I straighten my clothes.

"I'm confusing?" he asked rhetorically. "You're fucking confusing."

"Come up with your own lines," I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. "I'm getting air."

I don't know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me.

"No," he says, looking at me sternly.

"There wasn't a question mark at the end of that sentence, asshole," I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it's slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky's chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door.

"I said no," he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body.

"And I said, fuck off," I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. "Move."

"We need to talk."

"And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don't add another person to the stabbed today club. I'd rather stay on Steve's good side." I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a huff of an annoyed laugh.

"Real mature," he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious.

"You're one to fucking talk!" I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. "Stop smiling!" I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!

My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I'm capable of, but I'm not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"Y/N," he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I'm sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up.

"No! You don't get to talk!" I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. "I'm walking out of this room to get some air, and you're going to stay right fucking there. Right there!" I point to the floor under his feet. "And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?"

I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I'm feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet.

"What?" I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself.

"I'm sorry," he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine.

I blink a few times and throw my hands up. "I can't do this." I let out a breath and turned back to the door.

"Y/N, please don't," he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly.

"Why?" There's a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he's asking this. "Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?"

He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave.

"I don't need you getting hurt again," he states, still avoiding eye contact.

My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. "We're in a hotel. Not a battlefield."

"It's better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it's best we don't show our faces in public spaces," he notes.

Ok, that's a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He's not sharing everything, though...

"Ok..." I drag out and look at the balcony. "Then I'll go out there."

I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. "Fucking hell," I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.

A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.

"I had the same issue," he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower." He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness.

I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don't turn to see if he's still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It's not a well-off country, so the views aren't more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it's fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil.

Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I'm more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-

"Y/N?" I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that's obviously broken. "God, this place has gone down in quality," he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me.

"Been here before?" I ask, turning back to the view ahead.

"Once like 8 years ago," he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. "Must have gotten new management."

It's silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he's going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up.

"I don't know why," he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. "I don't know why you stress me out more than the others."

Great. So that's how this is going to go.

I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist.

"Please, just let me find the words," he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice.

I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I've seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition.

"Ok..." I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I've never seen him like this, so I give him the space.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything.

"I don't like seeing you get hurt," he starts. "I mean, I don't like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It's no decent person's interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it's like a nagging in my head. No," he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. "It's like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that's only a part of the pain that comes with it."

I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he's saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands.

"I know I'm an asshole to you. I know that," he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. "I don't know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I've talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you."

My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words.

"Feelings towards me?" I repeat. "Like annoyance?"

"No," he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. "Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it endearing most of the time."

My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from?

I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. "Barnes, you're giving me a bit of whiplash, and I'm not sure-"

"I like you."

My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I'm shocked. But if he meant it otherwise... I'm hallucinating.

His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn't look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me.

"I-Is there more to that sentence?" I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately.

"Yes, but from the looks of it, you're still trying to translate those three words."

"Good observation," I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.

"I've been known to make them," he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I'm actually grateful for his quip at this moment.

"Bucky, you have to understand that those words don't make sense with how you treat me-"

"I know, and I'm sorry," he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. "God, I'm so sorry. I don't even know why it's taken me this long to apologize for the way I've acted this long, but for some reason... When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn't the first time I'd seen you in that scenario, yet something about it..." He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. "It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past."

He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he's breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes.

"Maybe it's because I knew if I didn't get to you, you were on your own. We didn't have a backup. I couldn't call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn't. And then the actualization that if I couldn't get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I'd end up regretting everything all because I can't seem to come to terms with my feelings." His eyes find mine again. "And then that cut," his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. "It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head."

He looks at me, and I can't explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that.

"Seeing you hurt reminded me... You're human. You aren't invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It's a skill I'm glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn't guarantee someone won't get the jump on you again, and I'm not sure I can handle that."

I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft "Y/N?" makes me look up from where I've been staring blankly at the balcony.

"You ok?" he asks gently, carefully.

I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance.

"Trying to..." I started, but I didn't know what words were meant to follow. "I'm a little shocked," I say, eventually looking at him.

"I can't say I blame you. It's a 180 from our normal conversations," he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. "Do you need a minute?"

I shake my head. "No..." Then I scrunch my nose. "Well, maybe."

"That's ok," he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I've wrapped my arms around myself. "We should go inside. It'll get cold soon." He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up.

I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we're in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don't move, though, and neither does he.

"Since honesty seems to be the theme of the night," I look up at him. "I've always admired you..." His face softens at that. "But I'd be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn't affect that original feeling." He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself.

"I wouldn't hold it against you."

"Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?"

He shrugs a touch, but there's no uncertainty behind it. "I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn't think I deserved that." He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his sweats. "I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I've learned quite quickly that you're anything but naive."

I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. "You wouldn't be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It's why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don't appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven't been the perfect person in this relationship myself," I motion between us. "I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn't seem to respond well to it."

"It wasn't your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions," he shifts on his feet. "I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I'm still working on recognizing."

"It's a process," I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. "Bucky?" He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. "I forgive you."

I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.

"I don't expect you to just be fine with everything I've done the last-"

"Many years?" I chuckle, lighting the mood. "Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can't say I blame you."

"But you should blame me," he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing.

I shrug, turning to face him better. "But I don't." He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. "I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it's like you feel guilty for making progress and regress." He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. "Sorry, I shouldn't-" I take my hand back.

"No, you're right. It's something I'm still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this," he gestures to me. "A part of me doesn't believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I've given you, but-"

"But it's my forgiveness to give, so I'll decide if I want to give it..." I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. "You catching on?"

"I'm catching on," he looks up at him again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It's not tense. It's not awkward. It's not uncomfortable. It's like we've come to a point we've been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.

"So..." he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all.

"Why is there only one bed, Bucky?" I ask with a look meant to lighten up the mood, turning and patting the comforter we're sitting on.

He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. "It wasn't intentional, if that's what you're asking."

"Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you'd be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure my proximity," I tease.

"Or..." he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. "The receptionist told me they didn't have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they're booked up."

"Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you," I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I'm surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch.

"Believe me or not," he shrugs, standing and stretching. "Either way, we're sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart." He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep.

This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven't gotten to experience sooner. So I say that.

"I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I'd see the flirt you were rumored to be," I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed.

"I don't flirt with everyone," he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows.

"Well, yeah, obviously, but-"

"Just people I'm attracted to," he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. "And to women, I'd like to have flirt back."

My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh. "Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?" I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest.

"Did it work?" he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it.

I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. "Honestly, I have to say yes."

His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him.

"So you're saying I have a chance if I keep it up?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It's not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after."

"Good to know."

"Is it?" I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them.

"Can't give away all my plans," he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp.

"Wouldn't want you to. I like being surprised," I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. "Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start."

"You think?"

"I think," I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who's it hurting? "Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-"

"Yes," he says simply a large grin he doesn't seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. "Yes, please." He nods, moving under the blanket.

"That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn't have other beds."

"I don't know what you mean," he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine.

"Listen, normally I wouldn't, but I learn I sleep best when I'm with another person, so-"

"You don't have to give me a reason, doll. I'm happy to lend the support." His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I'm turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I'm not going to lie... It's a perfect fit. "Night, Y/N."

"Night, Bucky." I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him.

This was a good start to something possibly more...

Want to keep reading? (Part 2 of 2)

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[societyfolklore]

Stay Still

Title: Stay Still (Prompt- how is the mistletoe following you around) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: The Avengers’ Christmas party takes an unexpected turn when mistletoe starts mysteriously following you around. You assume it’s Tony or Peter playing pranks, but the truth is much darker—and more deliberate. Bucky has been strategically placing the mistletoe, his plan as subtle as a super soldier’s smirk. Will you figure it out before the mistletoe gets its way?

Word Count:  2.2K

Warnings:  /Warnings // Explicit Content //1 8+, Minors DNI, smut, Unprotected sex.  Probably others.. Not Beta read.

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge – Day 15)

The annual Avengers Christmas party was, as always, a grand affair. Tony had outdone himself again, decking the compound with extravagant decorations and enough lights to compete with the New York skyline. Mistletoe hung in strategic spots, its placement suspiciously coincidental for maximum awkwardness. You’d rolled your eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all when you arrived, but as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice a pattern.

The mistletoe seemed to be… following you.

At first, you brushed it off as a prank. Tony or Peter was likely behind it. The first time you noticed, you were standing near the snack table, chatting with Natasha. A soft chuckle behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see Bucky leaning against the counter, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’ve got something over your head, doll,” he said, nodding upward.

You glanced up, spotting the offending mistletoe dangling directly above you. “Very funny,” you muttered, glaring at the green sprig as if it had personally insulted you. “Where’s Peter? This has his fingerprints all over it.”

Bucky shrugged, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Right,” you said, grabbing your drink and moving to another part of the room. But an hour later, when you were talking to Sam near the fireplace, there it was again—dangling innocently above you like it had every right to be there.

“Seriously?” you groaned, pointing up at the mistletoe. Sam burst out laughing, drawing the attention of half the room.

Bucky, conveniently nearby, chimed in. “Guess the universe is trying to tell you something.”

“Yeah,” you shot back. “That I need to get a restraining order against a plant.”

Bucky’s laugh was low and warm, and for a moment, you forgot your irritation as his tone stroked up your spine like honey. He looked good tonight—too good. His dark sweater clung to his frame, his hair tossed back. You tore your gaze away, determined not to let him distract you.

As the night went on, the mistletoe’s antics grew increasingly suspicious. It didn’t matter where you went—whether you were grabbing a drink, sitting on the couch, or even stepping outside for fresh air—it always seemed to find you. By the third or fourth occurrence, you were convinced someone was actively moving it.

“Alright,” you said aloud, hands on your hips. “Who’s behind this? Tony? Peter? Clint?”

“Why are you so sure it’s a prank Doll?” Bucky asked, appearing beside you with perfect timing, as usual.

“Because mistletoe doesn’t grow legs and follow people around,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe it’s just good luck,” he said with a shrug, his smirk firmly in place. “Or maybe it likes you.”

You rolled your eyes, but his teasing tone sent a flutter through your chest. Bucky had been hovering around you all night, and while you couldn’t prove he was involved, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of quiet. You leaned against the counter, the cool surface grounding you as you tried to shake off the lingering tension from the party. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Bucky—his smirk, his teasing, the way his eyes seemed to follow you no matter where you went. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about him before, but tonight he felt different, like a storm you couldn’t outrun.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. The air shifted, heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

“You hiding in here?” Bucky’s voice was low, a teasing edge laced with something darker.

“Maybe,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “Or maybe I’m trying to escape the world’s most persistent mistletoe.”

“Funny you mention that,” he said, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he stepped closer. You turned to face him fully, only to find him standing directly beneath the mistletoe, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the dim kitchen light.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, gesturing at the offending plant. “Did you bring that in here with you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his smirk widening into something sharper. “Or maybe it just knows where it’s supposed to be.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Alright, Barnes. Spill. What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” you said, stepping closer despite your better judgment. “You’ve been hovering around me all night, and somehow, that thing”—you pointed at the mistletoe—“keeps showing up wherever I go. So what’s the plan? Embarrass me into kissing you in front of everyone?”

Bucky’s smirk faded slightly, his eyes darkening as he studied you. The playful edge in his demeanour shifted, replaced by something far more deliberate. He stepped into your space, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture was slow, almost languid, as if he were savouring the moment.

“No plan,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Just thought I’d give you a little nudge.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, your resolve wavering under the weight of his gaze. “A nudge?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his thumb trailing along your cheek with agonizing slowness. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night, doll. Watching you, wanting you… Figured it was time to stop pretending.”

The air between you crackled, heavy with tension that felt like it could snap at any moment. You wanted to move, to say something, but his presence pinned you in place, his touch igniting something raw and electric inside you.

“So this whole mistletoe thing…”

“Was my idea,” he admitted, his voice a dark, velvety drawl. “Not my best work, but it got your attention, didn’t it?”

You tried to muster a response, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid from your cheek to your neck, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin just below your jaw. His grip was firm but not unkind, a subtle reminder of the strength that hummed beneath his calm exterior.

“Why so quiet, doll?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Not used to someone chasing you for a change?”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you met his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. “I….”

His grin widened, his thumb pressing lightly against the hollow of your throat. “Now, I’ve put in a lot of work to get your attention.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a deliberate slowness that left you trembling. The kiss wasn’t soft—it was consuming, demanding, his hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers instinctively gripping his sweater as the world around you blurred into nothingness.

When he finally pulled back, his lips still hovering dangerously close to yours, his voice was low and rough. “Now be a good girl and do as your told. The mistletoe knows what it was doing.”

Standing in the kitchen tension rising between you. He brushed something against your cheek, the damn mistletoe again..

"Let's get out of here," he said, his voice low and husky. "I think we've had enough of the party for one night."

All you could do was no, your voice caught in your throat. He took your hand, his metal fingers wrapping around yours, and led you out of the kitchen. You walked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the mistletoe as he carried it with him.

As you entered his room, he closed the door behind you, the click of the lock echoing through the silence. He turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I've been waiting for this moment all night Doll," he said, his voice dripping with desire. "I've been watching you, wanting you... and now, I'm going to have you."

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to undo the zip on your dress. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he slowly peeled the fabric away from your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.

The mistletoe was still clutched in his metal hand, and he ran it along your skin, the soft leaves tickling your flesh. You felt a gasp escape your lips as he touched the mistletoe to your nipple, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through your body.

He undressed you slowly, his hands worshiping your skin as he exposed it to the cool air. You felt vulnerable, yet empowered, as he gazed at you with adoration.

“Feel like silk sweetheart..”

His eyes never leaving yours, and led you to the bed. You lay down, your heart pounding in your chest, as he followed you, his body pressing against yours. Taking off his own clothes enjoying the hungry look in your eyes as you took him in, pulling you to his lap while he leant against his headboard, same smug grin on his face.

The mistletoe was still clutched in his hand, and he ran it along your skin, the leaves tickling your flesh. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he touched the mistletoe to your lips, his mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss.

As you broke apart for air, he whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. I'm not going to let you go.”

And with that, he slid inside you, his body moving in perfect sync with yours. The mistletoe was forgotten, lost in the passion that consumed you both.

As you moved together, your bodies entwined, you felt like you were losing yourself in the moment. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you and the noises he could ring from you. His metal hand fisted in the back of your hair, still clutching that damn strig of mistletoe, forcing your head back his mouth kissed at your throat, making his way up to your ear. “Down you go Doll.” The voice sounded soft but the tug on your hair was clear, and you lowered yourself back down taking more of him back inside of you. “Let him kiss it again." 

Your thigh shook as you went down, going all the way until he was pushed back up against your cervix as he bottomed out. “Yeah that right.” He groaned, you mewled “Now come on, little bounces.”  His tip nudging- kissing it again and again while you panted. “Buck,” you managed, your voice unsteady you were losing yourself as he moved your hips up his other hand moving between you.

“Oh doll she such a messy kisser, drooling all over me.” His fingers pressing into your clit while he had you bouncing on him, your hand grabbing his headboard behind his head, his body pressed against yours, his chest warm against yours. All you could do was pant and keen as he meet your little movement with his own. “Shh shh, I know.” His voice soothing as you continued to bounce on him, his fingers worked their magic on your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You felt like you were losing control, your movements becoming more erratic as you chased the pleasure. Bucky's grip on your hair tightened, his mouth still kissing your throat, sending sparks flying through your body.

“Aah.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his tip kissing your cervix with each stroke. You felt like you were being pulled apart, your body torn between the pleasure of his fingers on your clit and the sensation of him moving inside you. “There you go Doll, just, got to, let go..”  His words emphasised with thrusts.

You felt like you were being consumed, your body overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. Your legs began to shake, your thighs trembling as you approached the edge.

"Bucky," you managed to gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. He responded by thrusting into you harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

You felt like you were flying, your body soaring through the air as you came. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you felt like you were going to pass out from the sheer force of it.

As you came back down to earth, you realized that Bucky was still moving inside you, his thrusts slow and gentle now. You felt like you were floating, your body relaxed and sated. "Stay still, doll," Bucky whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not done with you yet."

[buckyalpine]

18 + That is your warning so stop reading. Imagine being an absolute slut for your bodyguard Bucky even though your very much so dating Steve.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you" Steve snarled, picking up his pace while you hiccupped, "You filthy fuckin' slut, you worked up and down on his cock didn't you, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this"

“But I love riding his dick daddy” You wailed while bouncing on Steve's cock, biting you lip, your eyes rolling back thinking about how Bucky stretched you open like a whore, splitting you in half. "I wan Bucky's cock" You sobbed, sounding needier than ever and it made Steve leak.

"Fuck sugar, that right? You're that much of a desperate slut, you want my best friends cock?"

"Uh-huh" you nodded, nearly going cross eyed, making an utter mess all over the dark blond curls at the base of Steve's cock. He didn't stop his harsh thrusts as the door clicked open, your body guard striding into the office, his cock already rock hard.

"Hey pretty girl" Bucky cooed, smirking at how cockdrunk you were while he rounded he corner of the desk to where you were splayed across Steve's lap where he sat in his office chair. He traced your pouty bottom lip before slipping his thumb into your mouth, humming in satisfaction at the way you sucked it, moaning around the metal digit.

"Go on, finish what I started" Steve nodded while you squeaked as Bucky picked up you up effortlessly off of Steve's cock, and tossing you over his shoulder.

"Need my cock, huh Bambi, that all?" Bucky's wide palm rubbed your sore ass where Steve had spanked you, turning over to place a quick kiss onto the hot skin before laying you down on the table. You let out a needy moan at the sound of his belt hitting the floor, so deep in subby space, spreading your legs extra wide as he pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock.

"Look at that, such a good girl, spreading her legs for me" Bucky leaned over to take a good look at you, your dazed expression and wiggling hips making his balls impossibly heavy. "Wanna show Steve how well you take my cock baby? Show him how I make you moan and cum, n'how I play with that cute little button between your legs?"

"Mph, Bucky please" You whined, pouting at the disappointed tsk Bucky made.

"That's not what you call me Bambi, c'mon, whose cock do you want, say it"

"Fuck me, Sergeant-OH-MY-GODD" You cried out as Bucky slammed into you, setting in a brutal pace without waring, your body bouncing against the desk as he gripped onto your hips.

"That's-it-good girl-good. fucking. girl" Bucky snarled through gritted teeth, slamming your body down onto his cock, his head thrown back, moving one hand to wrap around your neck. He was too enamored with you to notice the way Steve's hand was wrapped around his cock, working his swollen, silky tip, watching his pretty princess take his best friend like her life depended on it.

Bucky spat right onto your clit, rubbing tight circles around you with a feral look on his face feeling you squeeze around him, bending your thighs up till they hit your chest, hitting a deeper angle.

"Feel that? M'so deep in your pussy baby, s'fuckin' deep, can feel your little clit throbbing, it's all swollen huh Bambi, you're soaking my cock, make a mess all over it princess, it's all yours"

"Sergeant-gonna-I-" You couldn't forumalte words, tears streaming down your face and falling onto the desk under you, the band in your belly ready to snap-

"You gonna cum for my best friend babygirl?" Steve's focus was locked in at where Bucky was connected to you, watching his cock slam in and out of your tight cunt, stretching you wide open, his own cock growing impossibly harder, "Fuck, you're a dirty slut, I'm gonna-fuck m'cumming" Steve's voice was breathless, his chest heaving as he worked his cock faster, eyes rolling back as white streams of cream decorated his black shirt, nearly shooting to his beard. "Holy shit"

"BUCKY M'CU-UMINGG" You wailed, your back arching off the table, screaming with every muscle in your body pulled taught. You couldn't tell where your orgasm began or where it ended, unending waves of pleasure drowning you while Bucky began to chase his own.

"Cum for your Sergeant baby, that's it, such a good girl, you make my cock so hard Bambi, y'feel so good, not gonna last, shittt-HNG" Bucky let out a guttural moan, not giving a fuck that Steve was right there, pumping you full of his cum until his balls were empty and his cock was soft. He tucked himself back in his pants before removing his shirt to wipe you down and picking you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala. Your boyfriend followed closely behind, smirking at the needy noise you made, checking to see that Steve was also coming for some post sex naps, sighing contently when you saw him following near by.

"Off to bed, Bambi"

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water. 

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky. 

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer. 

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him. 

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down. 

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore. 

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets. 

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting. 

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him. 

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further. 

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late. 

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water. 

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy. 

By the time he’d placed you on the couch,  Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead. 

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily. 

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you. 

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together. 

Now what? 

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too. 

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming. 

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.” 

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat. 

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.” 

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone. 

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short. 

“There’s nothing here -”  he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched. 

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.” 

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm. 

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin. 

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe. 

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky. 

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold. 

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off. 

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth. 

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered. 

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed. 

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders. 

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him. 

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement. 

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well. 

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof. 

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention. 

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue. 

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -” 

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.” 

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing. 

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.” 

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right. 

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted. 

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye. 

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.” 

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and - 

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold. 

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer. 

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours. 

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you. 

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.” 

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips. 

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing. 

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -” 

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow. 

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch? 

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer. 

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again. 

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was? 

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent. 

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered. 

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face. 

“You cracked the ice?” 

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.” 

“Oh -” and then you laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement. 

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight. 

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken. 

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door. 

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.” 

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.” 

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette. 

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.” 

“No, you’re not dead, but -” 

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words. 

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with. 

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.” 

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going. 

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly. 

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense. 

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close. 

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks. 

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much. 

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup. 

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you. 

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door. 

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing. 

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge. 

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.” 

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.” 

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and - 

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -” 

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again. 

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point. 

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!” 

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist” 

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. 

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles. 

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation. 

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

[lanabuckybarnes]

Princess Treatment

18+ MINORS DNI

It’s been a few days since Princess had her first punishment from Bucky. She tried to avoid him like the plague whenever she could, but not for the reason he assumed.

Pairing: Bodyguard! Bucky x Brat! (Not so) Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Brat Taming, Masturbation (F), Whipped Princess, Crying, Soft Dom! Buck this time, Fingering, Oral (F), Praise Kink, Slight Overstim, A Lil Angsty, Princess is insecure, AFTERCARE (because it’s important)

Word Count: 1.8k

He scowled as once again, as soon as the doors to her penthouse opened she slinked off to her bedroom, not even bothering to pull off her heels. He’d thought a lot about the other day; he was probably too harsh on her, he should’ve eased her into it but she royally pissed him off with her defiant attitude as he pulled her from the sweaty crowd of drunken adults, she’d even spat in his face, the nail in the coffin.

But he hated the fact she didn’t want to be around him.

He sipped on the amber bourbon, hissing slightly at the expensive burn it caused down his throat before he tucked his lips into his mouth, deep in thought about how to best approach the situation he found himself in.

On the other side of the house, Princess whimpered into a clammy hand as her other ventured under her slicked panties. She’d been so good for him, curling into bed with throbbing want after he pushed her away - she’d tried the morning after to get herself off but there was a heavy weight of guilt that laid on her shoulders, causing her to slip her finger away from herself and finish up in the shower, unsatisfied again.

She was convinced he’d give her what she wanted after the second day. She’d been so sweet to him, making him tea in the morning, ordering him breakfast and even having his suit ironed by her personal maid but by dinner time her hope was wearing thin. Her book lay open on her lap but she’d be lucky to have read even the first paragraph, her eyes too busy gazing at each miniature movement Bucky made, a spike of excitement shooting up her spine each time his pink tongue ran over his plush lower lip, settling into the side of his mouth before slipping back into its place behind his teeth; each bob of his Adam’s apple as his favourite alcohol slipped down his throat.

But he stood with a groan, eyes glancing over at her nonchalantly and a gruff ‘goodnight’ falling from his mouth had that burning fire in her stomach quelled quick. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention he was giving her and began to shut herself away for her own good. Being around him too much was not good for her sanity.

Which led to now.

She’d been out at an event, her daddy couldn’t make it and tasked her with showing her pretty face instead, it was simple work she’d done before, give a couple charming smiles, kiss a couple of cheeks and drink a couple glasses of champagne - that was before the addition of Bucky into her life.

She knew it was for her own safety when he manoeuvred her away from the only set of windows that she could’ve easily been shot at from, but his warm hand scalded her hip as he did it, the fingers squeezing in innocent reassurance but finally being touched by Bucky had her mind going dumb already. He’d continued to move her around with unassuming hands on her body the entire night until she was so sure she wouldn’t make it home in one piece. Thankfully she didn’t lose her marbles until her back connected with the soft sheets of her bed, her dress discarded on the floor and her hand cupping her heated core.

“F-fuck” Her breath hitched as her middle finger swirled slowly around her hard little pearl; its lack of action recently made it much more sensitive to her gentle touch. Her ring finger joined as she spread her legs wider; a guttural moan almost falling unchecked from her mouth but thankfully being suppressed by the soft feathers of her pillow.

She thought of his fingers instead; how rough would he be? Would he circle her clit delicately or would he maintain that rough dominant attitude from a few nights prior and leave her sopping pussy sore with hard spanks. No doubt he’d punish her, fuck her throat again and release all over her face before shoving her away and disappearing into his room, after all, that’s all he wanted, a stupid little girl who’d be at his beck and call, who’d open wide and gag around his length until he was satisfied.

Her free hand hooked around the waistband of her undies, pulling him unceremoniously until they stretched around her thighs before slipping off easily past her knees. She kept up her ministrations, hips bucking up to meet every flick of her fingers, soft moans and pleads of something she knew was unattainable escaping her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She didn’t even hear the door click open.

Bucky watched the sight in front of him, his princess getting herself off while she chanted his name. He expected himself to be upset at the sight but he felt guilty more than anything; he knew he’d gone too long and it caused her to break his rule. He sat down on the edge of the bed, only after feeling the sinking of the mattress did her eyes shoot open, a frightened gasp ripping from her throat and her hand flying from its spot.

“Oh my - I’m so sorry…I-I tried my best but you weren’t…I waited so long I c-couldn’t hold back” he frowned at just how frantically she apologised, her legs slapping shut, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of her impending punishment. She froze when instead of harsh words his big hand cupped the side of her face, thumb swiping up and escaping tears.

“Shhh it’s ok princess I know, I know, you did so well” he praised, mouth quirking up into a soft, gentle smile.

“Y-you’re not mad?” She stuttered in response.

“Uh-uh angel it’s my fault, was just tryna see how long I could push you but I pushed you too far, I’m sorry baby” She didn’t know how to feel about this Bucky; she enjoyed the soft touches and sweet words but it was such a far cry from the hard dom she’d dealt with before.

“Lemme help you ok princess, you deserve it for lasting so long, you want my help?” His words wobbled slightly at the end, slight hints of insecurity bubbling as he spoke, he wanted so badly to help her but he knew she had every right to tell him to fuck off - but she nodded, wide eyes unblinking and legs falling open.

“My rules are still in place sweet thing” he reminded, hand running soothingly up and down her thigh.

“I want your help Buck please” she gasped when his thick fingers resumed her circling, pressing firmer than she had. She watched him through lidded eyes; the way he took his time unravelling each part of her, his eyes moving from between her legs, up over her tummy to her soft breasts. He cupped one in his hand, thumb circling over the nipple softly eliciting soft whines from her.

“That feel good baby?” He mouthed along from her knee to her mid-thigh, sucking softly before kissing the bruising skin.

“Mhmm…want your fingers in me Buck” she hesitated for a beat, silently hoping it wasn’t too demanding but when his fingers sunk to his knuckles she thanked the heavens for his leniency. He thrust in and curled out, the pads of his fingers hitting that sweet spot every time, juices pooling out around his digits and down the crevice of her cheeks until settling on her sheets. She was dangerously close; his hot breath fanning over her folds not helping at all.

“Want you to tell me when you’re gonna come ok, you gotta ask permission, princess?” His dark eyes flicked up to hers, a chuckle forming on her lips as she nodded her head instead of using her words - she was lucky he was feeling so bad.

An almost pornographic sob left her when his tongue flattened over her hardened nub, vibrating with a growl he let out at her taste.

“Mmm tastes so good angel” he groaned against her, suckling up any sweetness decorating her lips. She was a mess, pussy clenching frantically on his quickening fingers, drool gathering and wetting the pillowcase beneath her head as she ground her body against his face, an image of her sweaty body crawling up the tallest mountain in the world, hands bleeding as she gripped at rocks, feet slipping but she kept going until she finally reached that summit, but something in her brain stopped her from jumping off just yet.

“Mm ohhh Buck I’m close, please gotta come…can I Bucky? Can I come?” She cried, eyes cracking open to look at him pleadingly.

“Come princess, let it go, let it all go for your Bucky” he rambled against her heat, moaning unabashedly as more of her slick sweetness slipped from her clenching hole, being sucked up by his tongue.

She had no idea how long she lay there writhing, orgasm seemingly never-ending. She came to from the feeling of Bucky’s fingers still thrusting weekly into her, helping her through her pleasure.

“Ah s-stop too much” She pushed against his bicep and he relented, pulling his sopping fingers from her winking cavern and cleaning them off in his mouth.

“You did so well for me princess, so fucking good” he lauded, kissing up her neck and jaw before planting his lips on her bitten ones.

“I’m sorry” she sobbed, emotions on full blast because of the assault her shuddering orgasm had on her nerves. He shushed her softly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, assuring her she had nothing to be sorry for. He pulled her up into his arms, lifting her frame off the bed and carrying her into the en-suite adjoined to her room. He placed her aching body delicately into the warm sudded water he’d prepared in mere minutes.

She’d quietened after he scrubbed her expensive body wash over her body, paying close attention to any stiff knots he felt along the way. She turned to him with something intelligible swirling in her eyes.

“Are you proud of me?” Her voice was weak, raspy from overuse. He almost cooed out loud at the adorable little expression adorning her features, but he could sense something deeper crawling around there too.

“Of course princess, even when you act like a spoiled brat I’m proud of you…you take your punishments so well and you’re always so sweet after” he leaned forward and snatched her lips in his again.

The answer seemed to satisfy her for the time being but he knew it wouldn’t be the end of questions like that. Suddenly that simple bodyguard role for the world's brattiest women was starting to feel more like protecting the most misunderstood woman he’d ever met, and it boiled the pot of possessiveness that had sat cold in Bucky for a long time.

-

I had something else planned to post today but I'm not happy with it so you can have some Princess and Bucky because you have been denied. This was written a while ago and dedicated to the anon in my asks who asked for Princess and Bucky filth months ago 💚

I hope you enjoyed, any likes, reblogs and comments are well appreciated and I’d love any asks telling me your thoughts about these two or anything else that comes to mind. I'm a certified yapaholic.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Only The Lonely - Bucky | Oneshot

Summary: Late at night, the last train is Bucky’s escape from the chaos of his life—quiet and predictable. It’s his only peaceful moment. But when a stranger’s simple kindness interrupts his routine, what starts as an annoyance slowly turns into something unexpected.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

1:00 a.m.

The last train of the night. The final hour before the city sleeps, when the world quiets and only a few remain in motion. Most passengers at this hour are creatures of necessity—night-shift workers dragging their tired bodies home, partygoers sobering up after a wild night, travelers in transit, students cramming for exams, or employees finishing late.

And then, there are the unpredictable ones. The lost souls.

It’s the perfect way to describe him. Bucky.

His job makes his life unpredictable—demanding, stressful, suffocating. Every day feels like it’s crushing him, the weight of expectations pressing down on his chest until it’s hard to breathe. But this train ride, the one just before the clock strikes 1:00 a.m., is his sanctuary.

It’s the only time his mind is blissfully empty. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks is a comfort—steady, reliable, unlike the chaos of his day. He listens to the low hum of the engine, the occasional screech as the train rounds a curve. He likes the way the train sways, how it rocks him gently, as if coaxing him to let go of his thoughts.

Most importantly, he likes being alone.

But tonight is different.

When he steps into the nearly empty car and heads to his usual seat, someone is already sitting there.

Have you ever felt that irritation when someone rearranges your kitchen and you can’t find the salt? That’s how Bucky feels. A simmering annoyance, irrational but undeniable.

He grits his teeth but says nothing. It’s public transportation—he has no right to be mad. Instead, he silently takes the seat across from the stranger, determined to ignore them.

At first, you don’t notice him bristling across from you. You’re relieved to see another person, especially this late at night. You’ve never liked taking the last train—it’s eerie when you’re alone—but it’s cheaper than a taxi, and money is tight. Working as a hotel chef is exhausting, and every penny counts.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to think I’d be the only one on this train,” you say, offering a polite smile, hoping to make conversation.

Bucky doesn’t respond. He barely glances at you, his eyes dark and tired, fixed on the window as if willing the world outside to distract him. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in a silent refusal to engage.

You sense his exhaustion and decide not to push. He’s tired, you think. Maybe next time.

The Next Night. When Bucky steps onto the train, he immediately spots you. Sitting in the same seat as before.

He exhales sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes. Not again.

As if sensing his presence, you look up and wave. It’s a small, friendly gesture. Bucky doesn’t wave back—he just nods, a curt, obligatory acknowledgment. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he also doesn’t want to encourage conversation.

The train ride is quiet, but Bucky’s peace is shattered.

The Third Night. This time, you both arrive at the station at the same time.

You smile when you see him. “Hey! We’re train buddies now,” you say cheerfully as you walk side by side toward the platform.

Bucky scoffs, a quiet, dry sound, but there’s no real malice in it. He glances at you briefly and catches the faint scent of caramel. It clings to you, sweet and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, metallic smell of the train station.

You’re talking about something—your day at work, maybe—but he’s not really listening. He’s too focused on keeping his distance.

Then, it happens.

A loud, unmistakable growl from his stomach.

The sound cuts through the quiet, echoing in the empty station.

You stop mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. Bucky clears his throat, his ears burning with embarrassment. He tries to appear nonchalant, but the redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You stifle a giggle. “Looks like someone needs a snack.”

Bucky shoots you a glare, but there’s no heat in it. Just the begrudging realization that, for better or worse, you’ve become part of his routine.

You didn’t make a big deal of it—you simply reached into your bag and pulled something out. Holding it out to him, you offered, “Here, you can have this. We made too much in the kitchen today.”

Bucky glanced at the box in your hand. Before he could refuse, you added, “It’s monkey bread.” His gaze softened. It had been a long time since he’d had monkey bread. Hesitating for a moment, he finally took it. “Thank you.”

The sound of his voice surprised you—low and slightly raspy from exhaustion. It made you light up, a warm smile spreading across your face. “You’re welcome.”

The next evening, you boarded the train with a small container of cookies and handed it to him without a word. He didn’t say much, but the quiet kindness in your gesture spoke louder than words.

A few nights later, you offered him a neatly packaged serving of beef Wellington. “I can’t eat all this myself,” you said with a casual shrug. Bucky took it, feeling the warmth of the box seep into his cold hands. He wanted to say something but found himself at a loss for words, so he simply nodded, offering you a faint smile.

Then came fish and chips. “You’ll like this one,” you said, placing the box in his hands before settling into your seat. “It’s fresh.” Bucky chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign to him. He wasn’t used to this—someone thinking of him, sharing without expecting anything in return.

Day after day, you brought something new. Each time, he accepted it, and each time, he found himself looking forward to the brief exchange. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him.

“Why do you give me food every time we meet?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he studied you from across the train.

You shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “I just like sharing. Aren’t we train buddies?”

Your simple response caught him off guard. For a moment, Bucky was stunned. No ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. In your eyes, he was just a friend.

“I owe you,” he muttered, glancing away.

“It’s just extra food,” you said with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

That was the longest conversation Bucky had with another person, aside from those at his job. He thought only silence could bring him peace, but he realized that having friends could bring him peace too.

Then one day, you weren’t there.

He convinced himself it didn’t matter. Maybe you found a better job. Good for you.

But the train rides felt emptier. No chatter about your coworkers. No light-hearted complaints about your boss. No extra food in hand, given with that easy smile.

Something didn’t feel right.

Bucky found himself standing in front of the five-star hotel where you worked. He recognized the logo from the packaging you used. After asking a kitchen staff member about you, he was met with a puzzled look.

“She’s on the night shift. I’ve never met her,” the staff member said, scratching his head. “But I can ask my manager.”

Bucky nodded. “Thank you.”

Minutes later, the staff member returned, his expression more serious.

“She quit two weeks ago,” he explained. “Apparently, some guy came in and caused a scene—flipped a table, yelled about debt or something. The next day, she quit.”

Bucky’s heart sank. His chest tightened, and breathing felt harder.

Debt?

All this time, he thought you were the bright, carefree soul who brought light into his monotonous life. But now, he realized—you were the one hurting. Hiding behind your kindness.

He swallowed hard. “Thank you… and I’m sorry for bothering you.”

The staff member gave him a sympathetic nod.

Bucky walked out of the hotel, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. I never even asked…

He clenched his fists. He didn’t know anything about you—not your struggles, not your pain. But one thing was clear: He needed to find you.

👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳

Bucky walked into his office during the morning shift—a time when he was rarely seen. Heads turned, confusion spreading among his coworkers as they whispered to each other. Bucky Barnes, the man who thrived in the shadows, was suddenly here in broad daylight.

“Is he… actually here in the morning?” one agent murmured.

“Maybe he couldn’t sleep,” another offered, but their eyes widened when they saw Bucky heading straight for the weapons locker.

The boss, a tall man with graying hair and a perpetual frown, stepped into the room just in time to see Bucky zipping up a weapon bag. His expression shifted from confusion to concern.

“Uhhh… Barnes, where are you going?” the boss asked, his hand resting on the doorframe as if blocking Bucky’s path.

Bucky didn’t pause. He slung the bag over his shoulder, his face unreadable. “Helping a buddy.”

The boss blinked. “Oh…” He nodded slowly, then frowned. “Wait. Who’s your buddy?”

“A train buddy,” Bucky said without missing a beat, securing the bag and striding past him.

The boss opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, watching Bucky disappear down the hall with a perplexed expression. “A train buddy?”

👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳

The basement was cold and damp, the air thick with the stench of mold and oil. The dim light from a single flickering bulb cast long shadows across the concrete floor.

In the center of the room, you sat tied to a chair, your wrists chafed from the rough rope binding you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the group of gangsters lounging around, their faces hardened with cruelty.

One of them—a tall man with a scar running down his cheek—stood before you, arms crossed. “Your brother owes us a lot of money,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And guess what? We don’t care where it comes from. You’re gonna pay it.”

Your voice trembled as you shook your head. “I don’t have the money. I told you, I don’t—”

The scarred man sighed, rubbing his temples as if dealing with a stubborn child. “Put her in liquid cement,” he said, his tone casual, like he was ordering a drink. “Then throw her into the sea.”

Your blood ran cold. Panic surged through you, and you pulled against the ropes, your breaths coming in short gasps. “No. No! God, please, no! Help!”

The men laughed, their footsteps echoing as they approached.

Then—darkness.

The flickering light went out, plunging the basement into complete blackness.

“What the hell?” one of the gangsters muttered.

Suddenly, the sound of a struggle erupted—thuds, grunts, the sharp crack of bones breaking. One by one, the gangsters fell. Some screamed in pain; others were silenced before they could make a sound.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your body trembling as the chaos unfolded around you. What’s happening?

Then—silence.

A familiar voice cut through the darkness, calm and steady. “You’re safe. Open your eyes.”

Your eyes flew open, heart racing. You blinked, adjusting to the faint light as the basement door creaked open, spilling in a sliver of light from the stairwell.

Standing in front of you, weapon in hand, was Bucky. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his jaw clenched in determination.

Your breath hitched. “Bucky?”

He moved quickly, crouching in front of you and cutting the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles. His hands were steady, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—concern.

As the ropes fell away, you flexed your stiff wrists, the lingering ache a reminder of how close you had come to disaster. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

“Aren’t we train buddies?” he asked, his voice low and steady as if the answer mattered more than he let on.

You blinked, your chest tightening with a mix of relief and gratitude. Despite the chaos, despite the fear, here he was—your train buddy. Slowly, you nodded, a small, trembling smile forming on your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We are.”

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[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Bucky and Touch Headcanons

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Just some Headcanons about Bucky and learning to trust human contact again

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, Bucky’s trauma, abuse at the hands of HYDRA, insecurities, self conscious Bucky, pet names, no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"

A/N: if you haven't noticed I definitely have a type when it comes to fic and that fic is hurt/comfort with Bucky. I kinda feel like everything I've written is like the same thing in different fonts, but oh well 😅 anyways, Bucky re-learning that hands on his body doesn’t inherently mean pain and becoming super cuddly and touchy with someone he loves is my SHIT inject that into my VEINS man

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

It takes Bucky a really long time to get accustomed to human contact again, after you two got together it took him a while to even do something so innocent as hold your hand.

It’s not that Bucky hates it

He loves being close to you, he wants it so badly

And he’s touch-starved

He’s so touch-starved

But he went so long without positive human contact, and now that he’s free he wanted it so badly he could feel his chest aching for it

But it made him so nervous to want to try

After one night where you mindlessly reached up to casually touch his face and he flinched away hard, after all open hand coming towards his face had meant pain for so long, you two had a long conversation about his comfort levels

You two took things slow initially

You would sit on the couch together, watching a movie and talking with your fingers intertwined, your thumb stroking his knuckles.

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder, something he’s slowly started to accept

At the very least he’s stopped freezing when he feels your head droop to his arm

But now that he’s grown used to it and learned to love it? He wants to be touching you all the time

Bucky almost always has his arm around you, or a hand on your back, holding your hand, etc.

He would never admit it to anyone but you, but he’s SUCH a little spoon.

Bucky loves when you hold him, resting his head on your chest while you rub his back brings him a level of calm that he’s never felt before

Or when you hold him from behind and he curls into your body

You slip your hand under his shirt and run your hands along his tummy, gently stroking your fingers along his skin

You know he’s a lot larger than you, being a wall of muscle that has at least a head of height on you

But seeing him sleeping peacefully, wrapped in your arms with a little smile on his face he looks so small

He loves when you play with his hair.

It took him a long time to be okay with it (too many memories of handlers grabbing and/or dragging him by the hair), but now?

If he had it his way your hands would never leave it

Whenever you two are holding each other your hands always seem to find their way to his dark locks, brushing them out of his eyes or carding your fingers through it

You learned that the quickest way to get him to fall asleep is to stroke his hair, and put him to sleep like that every night

When it was long, Bucky loved when you combed it for him after a shower, or braided and unbraided it while he laid in your lap during a movie

Now that it’s cut short (thanks to you, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it) you’re pretty much always playing with it in some way

As much as you loved his long hair, his shorter cut is nice because it’s a bit more manageable and still just as soft

Bucky loves when you massage his scalp, feeling your nails gently scratching against his head makes him melt every time

He also loves when you bathe him or bathe with him

Bucky had a lot of anxiety around being naked in front of you, too many bad memories of being stripped and hosed down after missions or beaten within an inch of his life

But with lots of time and comfort and assurances he eventually opened up and got more comfortable

Long baths with you are his favorite thing.

Whether you get in with him or not, he loves how gentle you are with washing his body, massaging sore muscles and peppering his chest and back with little kisses

He especially loves when you wash his hair (I know, shocking).

Usually when you’re done washing him you’ll guide his head to lay in your lap while you stroke his hair.

When it’s time for him to get out you usually have to wake him up, it makes you smile

Peace looks so good on him, you just want to let him bask in it forever

And oh GOD he loves skin-on-skin contact so much

It took so long for Bucky to learn that he was allowed to want things

When he first started opening up with touch, he would wait until the aching in his chest got unbearable before asking if you would do some skin-on-skin with him

You never wanted to push him, but you tried to teach him that he was allowed to ask for things he didn't need immediately.

He didn't have to wait until he absolutely needed something to ask for it.

He was allowed to just want things.

Once he finally gets used to asking for things he wants skin-on-skin all the time.

Most every night you end up cuddled up in bed, sans clothing, Bucky pretty much on top of you, his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He'll press little kisses to your chest, making you smile when his stubble tickles against your skin

“I love you,” he whispers into your neck, “how did I get so lucky, hm?”

You smile softly and kiss his forehead

“Believe me Buck, I'm the lucky one.”

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 27)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Hypothermia

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: vivid descriptions of hypothermia; desperate!Bucky; Hydra; slight mentions of Bucky’s past

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

Pang. Pang. Pang.

It’s almost rhythmic, the way Bucky’s metal fist hits the strong, reinforced door of the room you’re trapped in.

You stand off to the side, pressing a finger to your earpiece, trying once more to summon aid.

Only static answers you, sharp and grating, hissing in your ear. You grit your teeth.

Bucky lets out a frustrated grunt and slams his fist harder.

You step forward, intending to tell him to stop, to conserve his strength, to redirect his anger into a better plan since the door doesn’t seem to budge at all.

But then you notice it, the faintest shift in the room.

Your skin tingles at the back of your neck and underneath your tactical suit.

The air is sharper. It’s colder.

You glance up at the small vents near the ceiling and find their slotted mouths releasing thin, ghostly fog that drifts downward.

Your stomach plummets to the ground.

“Bucky,” you say, voice quieter than you intended, eyes still on the vents.

Bucky doesn’t turn, but his hits have stopped. His metal fist rests against the door. You make out his head tilting slightly, acknowledging you.

“Bucky,” you repeat, more insistent, more warningly. “Look!”

He does turn now, his eyes on you before moving up to where you are looking. His gaze narrows as the fog becomes more visible, coiling in haphazard spirals before dissipating.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his body turns to solid stone says he understands.

He then takes a step toward the control panel, his metal arm flexing instinctively. “We need to figure out how to shut this down. Fast.”

But you don’t know how fast you can make it.

The room already feels smaller, the walls seeming to close in, their cold presence pressing against you. You rub your arms, trying to ward off the frost spreading in the air.

But your cheeks start to sting and your skin tightens.

You are trapped in the sterile and metallic control room of a Hydra facility.

And if that wasn’t bad enough already, it’s not just a control hub. It’s also a containment chamber, and how it looks like, designed to neutralize intruders by pumping in freezing air when someone attempts to tamper with the control systems.

And since that’s the only reason you are in here, you fell for it.

Surveillance suggested the base holds remnants of sensitive data Hydra has been safeguarding, with a high likelihood that it could detail sleeper agents or hidden cells.

Bucky and you were paired and tasked with accessing the main control room, disabling the security grid, and providing an opening for the rest of the team to neutralize the facility.

And well, that didn’t go as planned.

Hydra has always been cruelly inventive and the freezing protocol seems as effective as inhumane to you.

Bucky immediately started to react the second a low beep emitted from the console, followed by an ominous hiss as the lights overhead flickered and shifted to an emergency red glow.

And he would have made it out before the heavy door slammed shut behind you since he’d been guarding the entrance.

But only without you.

And that didn’t seem to be an option for him.

You tried again and again to call out to the team.

Though it was futile from the start.

The base’s interior is heavily shielded, preventing outside communication.

Your teammates had a backup plan to breach the outer defenses if you two went radio silent, so they wouldn’t immediately realize something was wrong until it was too late.

The frost freezes up the walls, tiny ice particles wandering along the surfaces.

The air you draw into your lungs feels sharp, like shards of ice scraping the back of your throat.

Your muscles contract, huddling inward in a futile attempt to shield themselves.

Stiff and numb fingers try to tap against the slowly freezing metal of the console, but your movements are turning clumsy.

Bucky walks over to you. He seems to hold up better than you, but you see that this situation gnaws at him. His frown is in place, his shoulders are rigid and you don’t want to know the places his mind is traveling.

After all, this is not his first encounter with Hydras frost for him.

He looks over the consoles in front of you, glancing over the wires and frozen circuits.

“I don’t think p-punching it will help.” You try to say it lightly, bringing in some humor in your situation but your voice is shaking as much as your body.

Bucky gives you a sidelong glance. “You’d be surprised how often that works,” he deadpans.

You try to laugh but it falls flat.

The icy mist tumbles through the air so innocently, making it colder and colder, and then pounces on you so piercingly intense, it makes your breaths falter.

Warmth feels so far away. Seconds are stretching.

Bucky doesn’t glance back at the console.

He is watching you with furrowed brows.

His flesh hand brushes over your arm, trying to gauge your condition.

“Hey,” he says, almost sharply, but so full of concern. “You with me?”

You nod, but it’s sluggish. Unconvincing. Your teeth chatter as you try to speak. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Bucky grits his teeth, his jaw working roughly. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice sounds thick.

He pulls you close then. His arms wrap around you with a firmness that feels protective, desperate even.

You don’t resist, wouldn’t even have the strength to, and lean into him. Your body is shaking against him, your muscles seizing violently. It drains you rapidly. You do your best to try and let the warmth of his body temperature battle against the cold settling into your skin and sinking deep and even deeper into your bones.

It crawls into your ears, turning them numb and unresponsive. Sounds seem muted, as if the chill has even frozen the air’s ability to carry them.

The temperature drops and drops so rapidly.

You feel Bucky’s head right beside yours. His breath fanning over your cheek. “Stay upright, sweetheart. Alright? Don’t sit down. Try and move your legs.”

With that order, he brushes a trembling hand against your cheek for a split second before reluctantly letting go of you and storming toward the door again with clenched fists.

Another pang sounds out as Bucky slams his fist against the steel door again, each strike reverberating through the room. His hits are more frantic than before and there is no rhythm at all.

“Come on!” he shouts, his voice cracking.

The door doesn’t budge and he lets out a guttural roar, his fist slamming against the unyielding surface one last time before turning back to you.

You really tried.

You tried to follow his orders and stay upright, perhaps move through the room and keep yourself in motion.

But your knees were so weak and you let them crumble.

With an anguished sound that might have been your name, Bucky rushes back to you, dropping to his knees.

Your head dips forward before jerking back up, fighting to stay conscious.

“No! Y/n! You’re not doing this. Stay with me.”

You try to smile but it’s weak. “I’m just- just tired,” you murmur, voice slurring.

“No,” he snaps, shaking you just enough to make you focus on him. His eyes are wide, frantic. “You don’t get to sleep, you hear me? You sleep, you die!”

He’s pressing you against him, holding you so tightly.

The cold claims your flesh and veins. Your blood feels slowed.

His flesh hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your freezing skin in a way that’s almost tender, though his voice is anything but soft.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” he growls, his lips close to your ear. “You don’t.”

There has been pain. In your toes, your fingers, your ears.

But you feel it fade. And you know you should panic, because this is a terrible sign. But your mind becomes singular in its focus, so obsessed with the absence of heat, the ache of it so intense and pervasive, there is no room for much else.

Exhaustion tries to close your eyes. It weighs you down, trying to make you stop moving at all.

But you fight. You fight against your own body.

Bucky’s flesh hand trembles against you, though whether from the cold or the panic, you’re not sure.

His eyes are jumping across the room, from the control panel, to the vents, to the door, and back to you.

Bucky’s breath comes fast, visible puffs of white in the freezing air. You hear him faintly mutter to himself. Or rather curse.

All you manage is to let out a sigh. The exhale lets a tiny ghost rise before your face. But it fades too quickly. Your breathing began to slow already.

Bucky presses his forehead against yours, rocking you slightly in his lap, tightly cradled against his chest to keep you moving and give you more of his warmth. His stubble brushes against your icy skin.

You meet his eyes, but your gaze is weak.

His gaze is wild. Darting between focus and frenzy. His brows are knit together so tightly, forming deep creases that dig into his forehead like scars of desperation.

“Stick with me, alright? We’ll get outta here,” he breathes. But he barely even managed that. And it sounds more like a plea than a promise.

You nod faintly against him. Your eyes fall shut for a moment.

“No, no, no,” he croaks out, rocking you more forcefully. “Eyes on me, doll! Come on.”

Your eyelids feel frozen together but you manage to break through. Though it takes so much energy.

But looking back at Bucky’s expression might even be harder.

His lips are trembling at the corners. His eyes are glassy and so intense, shimmering with a desperation so vivid, it seems to cry out silently.

“Hold tight, sweetheart.” He swallows. “There’s gotta be something we can do. Something to stop this.”

His words are fierce, determined, but his gaze says something else entirely as he sweeps his frantic eyes across the room once again.

You’re trying your best to help, scanning the space through the haze clouding your vision, coming from the freezing mist.

You notice something. It’s barely noticeable against the frost-covered wall but the sight of it roots you in place, not from the cold this time.

Since Bucky’s arms are still pressing you to him, he feels you stiffen against his chest. But to be real, he would have noticed if you were across the room. His sharp instincts are always in tune with you, even more so in this freezing hell.

“What is it?” he demands, his voice rough with concern. His flesh fingers brush your face, coaxing your attention back to him. “You got something in mind?”

You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you shake your head faintly. A weak denial, that falters the second you try to hold onto it.

“Doll,” he warns, his tone low, his desperation edging in. Your silence is unnerving him. “Talk to me. What is it?”

You let out a shallow breath. It’s fragile, just like you, trembling and on the verge of breaking.

Bucky’s grip on you tightens.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I really need you to talk to me.” His voice is strained. “If you’ve got an idea, tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll make it work.”

The frost crackles in the background.

You let out a sigh and nod faintly, reluctantly, toward the corner of the room. Toward the frozen console that glints from the crystals of the ice.

“If we c-can short-circuit that p-panel,” your voice is barely above a whisper, “it might s-stop the c-cold.”

Bucky’s eyes dart to the console the second you mention it, then back to your face, searching it as though he could pull the rest of the plan from your expression alone to spare you the energy to talk.

But your expression falters and his brow is furrowed so tightly it’s hard to look at.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So what’s the problem?”

You shake your head, your body sagging further into his. He shifts to hold you better but his gaze is fixed on your face. “But-” you struggle, the word escaping you as a faint breath, lips trembling from more than just the cold, “it might fry your arm.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Bucky-”

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head firmly, muscles straining in his face. His flesh hand wraps around your shoulders like it could anchor you to him. “I’m being dead serious. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care what happens to my arm.”

Those are the words you expected to hear. And you hate them.

His voice is hard, but his gaze softens when he sees your expression. There is something determined there, but also something tender, something so soft, something unshakable that makes you want to bury deep into his chest and never leave it again.

“I’ll be fine, doll. Promise. But I have to do this.” His voice is soft. Gentle. And he lets his lips brush against your cheek.

You try to protest. Try to shake your head. A faint whimper leaves your lips.

“Don’t care what happens to me. Only care about you, doll. And I’ll get you the fuck outta here.”

His hand again cups the side of your face and holds your gaze with so much intensity, blue eyes piercing you more than the cold, it leaves you breathless.

Then, he moves into action, setting you against the wall so carefully, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness none of the others had ever seen him with.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice pleading. So earnest.

You do your best to give him a nod and watch as he strides toward the console.

His broad shoulders block your view for a moment, but you can see the resolution in every movement, the way his metal arm flexes as he tears away the frozen panel with one single tug.

Sparks erupt as he rips at the wires, and the sharp scent of burning metal fills the air.

All you can do is watch with your heart frozen in fear.

The console flickers violently, the room trembling slightly as the system begins to overload.

Bucky grits his teeth. His arm is sparking wildly by forcing the wires together, his entire body braced against the surging energy.

“Come on,” he mutters through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible over the crackling noise. “Come on, shut it down!”

And then, with a resounding hiss, the freezing air stops.

Bucky stumbles back. His metal arm twitches erratically.

“Bucky,” you whisper, fearing for his condition.

He only turns and crosses the room to you in a few strides, pulling you back into his arms.

Your face is pressed against his neck, his lips are by your ear.

“Told you I’ll be fine, doll,” he whispers, his voice a low rasp, thick with relief that feels like it’s been dragged from the depths of his chest. But it’s unsteady. It’s strained. There is a tremor in it that betrays him.

Because you are still so cold.

So cold in fact, it feels no longer like an invader. It becomes everything. It consumes you. It swallows your awareness. Leaving only the faintest sense of resistance. It’s so thin and fragile, you can barely remember why you’re still holding on.

His breath brushes against your temple, warm compared to the chill that has settled into your body. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

Your skin is ice beneath his touch and the tremors that whacked your body before are gone now. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You can’t tell where your body ends and the cold begins. It’s inside you, crawling through your veins like liquid frost, winding tighter and tighter with every slow beat of your heart.

Your skin doesn’t feel like skin anymore - it feels like glass.

“Hey,” he exclaims a little louder, his flesh hand soothing over your hair in a gesture so gentle it could shatter you into a thousand frozen pieces. “You’re okay. You’re with me. We did it, doll. You did it. The others will know something went wrong. They’ll come looking for us. You just have to hold on a little longer, yeah?”

His breaths are tangled in his words, rushing in too fast or skipping beats entirely. It makes his speech uneven.

But you can’t respond.

You want to reach for him, to speak, to swim in the warmth of his voice. But it’s impossible.

You know he’s holding you. You know he has his arms wrapped around you. You know you are pressed against his chest. The erratic pounding of his heart is by your ear. The weight of your body is resting against him. But it all feels so distant, like trying to recall details of a dream that is already fading from your memory.

Each gasp you try for feels farther apart, each exhale weaker than the last, dissipating into the air like it had never existed at all.

And you know Bucky feels it. Feels the way your body is slipping into a stillness that seems to terrify him enormously.

His breath catches.

“Don’t do this,” he grounds out, voice sharp and urgent. “No. Don’t you dare do this, Y/n!”

His metal arm curls tighter around you, and the steel, usually so cold itself, feels like a furnace compared to the icy skin underneath your suit.

He shifts you in his arms, his movements sluggish and frantic. Your head lolls against his shoulder and his flesh hand is at the back of your neck, fingers threading in your hair.

You feel so heavy. So impossibly heavy. You don’t even know where your hands are. Where your toes are.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

But your eyelids only flutter. They’re so heavy.

Bucky’s voice is there, somewhere in the muddle of your mind, but the words don’t land right. They sound muffled, like he might speak to you from underwater. Or as though you have fallen too far away to reach him anymore.

Lips press roughly against your temple. His hands try to rub warmth into you.

“No,” he growls, the anger in his tone masking the helplessness that causes him to shake his head and shake your body with it, due to the force, as if sheer denial could change the reality in front of him. “You don’t get to check out on me. Stay with me, Y/n. Fight for me. Come on. I know you can do it. Please! I know you can fight this.”

He gasps between phrases, trying to pull oxygen into lungs that refuse to expand fully, each sound on the verge of dissolving into sobs at any moment.

He buries his face in your hair, squeezing you against him.

“Sweetheart, please,” he cries, his words a single prayer to whoever will listen, so vulnerable and laid bare in a way Bucky Barnes rarely allows himself to be.

It elicits that faint, resilient ember beneath the frost you are succumbing to and you do your best to nurture it. It burns. Just a little. So small. But it’s there. And it burns because of him - because of Bucky.

The hectic rise and fall of his chest against you, the cracks of desperation in his hold on you, the tremble in his voice when he repeats the words stay with me and please, Y/n over and over, as raw and real as the ice in your veins - they make you promise to keep trying to hold on.

And you will. For him.

[narcissisticmf]

get up | bucky barnes x fem!reader

description: y/n is not a morning person and bucky tries everything in his power to ease her into the start of the day.

trigger warnings: fluff, some seductive behavior, domestic!bucky, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

The sun slipped its way through the closed curtains, shining brightly into the room. Your body was entangled within the sheets and thick blankets among your queen sized bed. You grumbled softly as the morning sun hit your eyes, causing you to slowly shield your face behind the thick blanket, no desire to get up yet.

You felt Bucky stir beside you, your back facing him. He must've been waking up. You felt his right arm slip protectively around your stomach, making you to groan softly.

You loved Bucky's affection, but receiving it early in the morning was something you were trying to get yourself used to. You hated physical affection in the morning and, of course, Bucky knew this but that didn't stop him.

"Mornin', sweetheart," Bucky mumbled into your ear with resonance. You gently moaned, clearly not ready to get up yet.

"You want some tea?" he asked, nibbling gently on your earlobe. You stayed quiet, but turned over to face him. You were so tired, and something unusual made you nestle closer to hin that morning. Your face disappeared into his chest and beneath the covers as his arms engulfed you tightly.

"Look at you.." Bucky whispered with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You released a soft huff and breathed in his scent. "What's got you so soft this morning, hm?"

"Shh," you whispered with a soft whine, no desire to speak yet.

To this, Bucky laughed. He pressed a warm kiss to your temple.

After a few moments of stillness that enveloped the room, Bucky dipped his chin down and pressed a lingering kiss to the apple of your cheek. "Cmon, sweetheart," he whispered as softly as possible. "Time to get up."

"Nooo," you dragged out softly.

"Yesss," he mimicked your tone with a smile.

"Bucky," you huffed and lifted your chin to look up at him. Your hair was matted against your forehead, your eyes glassed over the iridescent glimmer of them, and your lips were dry, slightly chapped.

"Y/N," Bucky smiled, sat up while leaning on his elbow, and cupped your face with his hands. You shivered at the cold touch of his metal arm, but relished in the light thrill.

"There's my girl," he grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to your nose. "Good morning."

"Morning," you couldn't fight your smile as Bucky leaned down to pepper kisses across your jawline and neck. You rested your head against the pillows and fluttered your eyes closed, admiring the feel of his warm lips against your cold skin.

He halted at your collarbone and seemed to question with his eyes if he should keep going. When you didn't protest, he sucked the skin over your bone.

Your body shuttered, leaving gooseflesh across your exposed arms.

"I felt that," Bucky smirked.

"Shut up," you laughed and nudged him off you.

He didn't fight you and laughed, shuffling off the bed. He turned to look down at you, still beneath the covers.

"How'd I get so lucky, hm?" Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at you with such an intense gaze, you felt your face go hot.

"Bucky," you whined softly and covered your face with the blankets.

"No, no, please.. don't cover that beautiful face," Bucky implored pathetically, leaning against the mattress to tug the sheets away.

You giggled when he clearly won the tug-o-war battle.

"There she is," Bucky grinned. "Come on, I'll make us breakfast."

This time, you happily obliged.

.

a/n: hi cuties!! i know ive been gone for a hot minute, i've just been swamped with my classes. i'm taking 4 lit classes this semester 🙄 someone tell me why i thought that was a good idea. ANYWAY ,, i hope yall liked this one! i've been seeing sm bucky content bc of thunderbults (can't wait to see that btw) so i thought to write a cute little fic this morning with him. and seeing sebastian talk shit on donald trump to the press is so sexy to me 🤭 okok i'll stop fangirling!! love yall! have a nice thanksgiving to my u.s. friends who celebrate! — angelina.

[buckysbaby-doll]

Happy birthday to our fave Brooklyn boy ❤️❤️

[barnesnatts]

GOLDEN GLOBE WINNER SEBASTIAN STAN😍😍😍😍😍

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine (masterlist) ♡

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader (Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au)

♡ Series Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Series Warnings: mentions of amputation, dark themes, violence, death/death threats, talk of parent death, fluff, angst, stalking, daddy issues, anxiety attacks/panic attacks, abuse, depression, depressive episodes, PTSD, dry humping, hints to smut, (warnings to be added as new chapters are released)

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine ☀️

(SERIES ONGOING)

Last Updated: 9/8/23

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+

⇨ Chapter One

↳ After Pierce interviews Bucky for the job, he warns him of you. Bucky is starting to rethink his decision, but when he meets you... you're not what he expected.

⇨ Chapter Two

↳ Bucky takes you home, and later finds you in the library. You both get to know each other a little better, but Bucky is hesitant.

⇨ Chapter Three

↳ Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.

⇨ Chapter Four

↳ You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.

⇨ Chapter Five

↳ Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

⇨ Chapter Six

↳ Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?

⇨ Chapter Seven

↳ Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?

⇨ Chapter Eight

↳ After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.

⇨ Chapter Nine

↳ After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.

⇨ Chapter Ten

↳ Someone comes knocking at your door in the morning. Bucky answers and is surprised with who he finds. Are they going to help them or hurt them?

⇨ Chapter Eleven

↳ The tension can't be ignored anymore between you and Bucky. Steve shows up and he's not alone.

⇨ Chapter Twelve

↳ Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.

⇨ Chapter Thirteen

↳ Your dreams consist of random memories of your parents, but are they really random? Despite the past days of hell—you still find it difficult to resist Bucky. You two spend a heated morning together, devouring each other while you still have these moments.

[societyfolklore]

Through the Cold  

Title: Through the Cold  (the electricity is out, let's keep each other warm) Pairing: Avenger Bucky Barnes x  Agent Female Reader

Summary:  After a mission gone awry, Bucky and Reader find shelter in a remote house on the outskirts of town. With the power out and temperatures dropping, they’ll have to find ways to stay warm.

Word Count:  2.7k

Warnings:  Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Fluff, Pet names, unprotected sex (Don’t!), Fingering. Not Beta read.

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge) Day 13 (Yeah I don't know if I’m not really doing this right…) The wind howled outside, battering against the thin walls of the small house you and Bucky had taken refuge in. Snow piled high against the windows, casting the room in a muted, white glow. The mission hadn’t gone as planned, but you were both safe for now and luckily you’d found this house before the blizzard turned dangerous. You leaned against the window, rubbing your arms as you watched the storm rage outside. Your breath fogged the glass, and the chill in the air seeped through every crack and crevice of the old structure. Still it was better then being outside..

“It’s getting colder,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Bucky. He was crouched by the fireplace, fiddling with a bundle of wood he’d found in the corner. His metal hand glinted in the dim light, steady and precise as he arranged the logs.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and calm. “I’ll get this fire going in a minute.”

You turned back to the window, shivering as another gust of wind rattled the glass. Your coat and gear were soaked from the snow, and you hadn’t had a chance to dry off properly.

“We’ll be fine,” Bucky said from behind you, his tone firm but reassuring. “It’s just one night.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I just hate being stuck like this.”

The sound of a match striking drew your attention, and you turned to see a small flame catch on the kindling. The firelight danced across Bucky’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intense focus in his blue eyes. He fed the fire carefully until it roared to life, filling the room with a faint warmth.

“There,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands off. “That should help.”

You stepped closer to the fire, holding your hands out toward the flames. “Thanks,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned to inspect the rest of the room. The house was small, just a kitchen, a living area, and a bedroom. It looked like no one had lived here in years, but it was clean and dry, which was more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“There’s no power,” Bucky said after checking the light switches. “Figures.”

“Great,” you muttered. “So, no heat except for the fire, no lights, and no way to charge our comms.”

“We’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady. “We always do.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Over the years, you and Bucky had been through worse. Still, the cold was already biting at your fingers and toes, and the thought of spending the night in these conditions wasn’t exactly comforting.

After a while, the fire began to warm the room enough for you to take off your wet coat. You draped it over a chair near the hearth, hoping it would dry before morning. Bucky did the same, his leather jacket and combat vest joining the makeshift drying rack. He had the luxury of running warm from the serum, while you were just stuck with whatever your body could muster and you were scrunching fingers and toes trying to encourage blood flow.

“Here,” he said, tossing you a blanket he’d found in the bedroom. “It’s not much, but it’ll help.”

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, sighing in relief as the soft fabric trapped some of the heat from the fire. “Thanks.”

Bucky settled onto the floor near the hearth, leaning back against the couch that looked to decrepit to carry any weight and stretching out his legs. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped and his head tilted back slightly. The sight tugged at your heart—he always carried so much weight, and it wasn’t just the mission that had worn him down. The fatigue that infected his soul at times came through,

“You should rest,” you said, sitting down beside him.

“I’ll rest when you do,” he replied without looking at you.

“Bucky,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. “You’re not doing either of us any favours by running yourself into the ground. Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

He finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You’re freezing,” he said after a moment. “I can see it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. “Don’t argue with me, doll. Come here.”

Before you could respond, he reached out and tugged you closer, pulling you into his side. His metal arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the warmth of his body seeped through the blanket and into your skin. You tensed for a moment, caught off guard, but then you relaxed, leaning into him.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling in your ear.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the wind howling outside. Slowly, the tension in your body began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of comfort and safety.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice quiet, “For someone who likes to come off as Mr grumpy pants, your being very sweet.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his breath warm against your hair. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Underneath all the brooding and the grumpiness, your might actually be a softie Barnes...”

“Don’t let that get around,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of sincerity. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed softly, the sound filling the small space. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For a moment, you thought you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, but before you could be sure, he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you warm. Can’t have you getting sick or dying of hypothermia on me. Might have to get used to a new partner.” “Oh no, new people, the horror.” You teased back settling against him and tried to get some rest, it was going to be a long trek out in the morning. As you drifted off to sleep, cocooned in his warmth, you were sure you felt his face burry into your hair near your neck, probably just trying to get warm himself as he held you tighter. Waking up you were shaking, the cold biting in hard at your bone, Bucky wasn’t there. “B-Bucky?” “Here Doll.” Sitting up you could see in the dim light him moving the old mattress from the bedroom into the living room to cover over the window that had broken as the blizzard outside had broken the window letting the fridged air fill the room. You pulled the blanket tightly around you as he pushed it up again the widow blocking out the wind, and disappeared again the sound of wood breaking before he came in carrying the remains of a bedframe and tossed it into the fire place stocking the flame while you shivered teeth chattering violently before he rejoined you on the floor pulling up against him into his lap “Fuck your freezing Doll.”

“y-y-yeah.”

Bucky pulled off his henley putting onto you for extra layers you head under his chin while he wrapped himself tightly around the fire returning heat to the room.

“I got you, alright, you’re alright.”  He ran firm hand up and down your back trying to get you warm, kissing the top of your head while your buried yourself into him your face pressed into his neck shaking. Staying like this wrapped up in him and the blanket eventually the warm and you warmed your face pressed into his neck, your body relaxing as the cold ebbed and you were now more aware of the situation. How close your mouth was to his neck, the fact he was shirtless, how hard you were breathing? “I- I think.. I’m Ok..”

You tried to move and Bucky seemingly reluctantly loosened his hold pulling away enough to look down at you while you stared up into his face, cheeks pink from the heat. “You feeling warm enough now Doll?” His voice sounded rough and thick with a feeling you didn’t want to name.

“y-yeah..” your reply coming back quiet

“Good.” His hand pushed hair back off your face, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Had me worried there Princess..” he gaze looked down at your lips. “Sure your warm enough?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Oh just, thinking…” Bucky breath brushed over your face. “Got to be sure.” Before you knew what was happening his lips pressed into yours, it was tender but needing as his hand went into your hair his metal warm wrapping tighter holding you to him. Your little moan coming back dying on his tongue as it slide into your mouth your body melting against his.   Bucky rolled you onto your back his body covering yours as his hand ran down your side and pulling off his henley from you and unzipping the front of your jumpsuit his hand sliding inside the fabric while his hips ground into the side of your hip. “Doll you have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.”   Bucky growled his mouth leaving yours to move down you neck while he pulled the suit down past your waist your hips rolling back into his. “Thought about this perfect little body of yours.” “Buck.” Your voice didn’t even sound like yours, as it got higher his hand pulling the suit down past your hips and down your thighs and off as he marked up your neck.

“You’re so perfect Doll” His hands were everywhere, your breasts, your thighs as he explored and kissed before his hand slide inside your underwear palming at your core drawing up a moan from you as your gripped his bicep, before his finger slide along wet folds. “Oh Princess, looks like I’m not the only one wanting this.” You could yeah the smug smile on his face as he pressed fingers into your clit making your whimper. “Bet I could have done this weeks ago and you’d of let me right?”

“Oh god Buck, yes.”

His fingers eased your entrance only for a moment.

“Deep breath.”  You didn’t even have a chance before he pushed two fingers into your wet heat making your arch and moan “Oh yeah, that’s it, do that for me again.” He drew his metal fingers back out and repeated the action going all the way to his knuckles. “Oh good girl. Such a good girl.” His mouth up against your ear as he nipped at your neck again your hips rocking to meet his fingers. “Oh fuck.. auh..” You felt your face body bend as he curled his fingers forward your body getting hotter as he built up more pace.

“That’s it pretty girl.” He made the world melt. “Going to make it all nice and wet and warm for me.” You arched and rocked for him as he worked your body in a way no one else had taken time too the wind howling outside mixing with the way the blood rushed in your ears.

“Wanna cum now Sweet Thing? “ He asked drawing out another whimper from you, as your got impossibly close your walls holding tightly to his fingers “Or hold it for me?”

“I- I.” You couldn’t think

“I think you should, think I deserve to hear you do I?” He picked up the pace his thumb pressing up into your clit as he worked your cunt the sounds wet desire coming from getting louder. “Come on Doll, wanna hear it, can feel you squeezing.”  His metal thumb moved in tighter circles and it was your undoing. Pleasure crashing into you as it all got to hard to hold. Calling out for him as your grabbed at his arms panting.

“ARGH!”  Your writhed on the floor bucking into his hand your walls held onto his fingers tightly before he let your body slump.

“Oh Doll, you are perfect.” He pulled his fingers from you licking off the coating you’d left on them before undoing his pants kneeling over your body watching you skin shine in the fires light as he got himself free of his denim leaning back over you. “So perfect, and all mine.” He almost sounded like an animal growling the words as he kissed backup your chest while you lay breathing hard before he lifted your leg up pressing your knee into your chest as he slid himself up along your wet slick moaning at the feel of you making your whimper again.

“Should of done this a looong time ago.” He bent forward captured your mouth in a kiss so hungry you swore he was trying to devour you. His time pushed forward and he sunk himself in half way the sensation. You felt slit open in the best way, walls forced to take him.

“mmmugh.” You noise was muffled by the kiss again as he rocked gently letting you adjust to the feeling before slowly feeding you the remaining inches of him until you felt his tip kiss up again your cervix as he went to his hilt a long moan coming from both of you.

“Bucky God.”

“Yeah, fuck you feel so good Doll better then I dreamed.” Your mind blanked, he dreamed of you? You didn’t have a chance to think to long on that before he moved and he had you soring. Long deep moves that let you know he was there, firm sure movement as he gave you all of him each time.  “So tight for me, Doll.” He made you whimper and moan each time, both of his hands touching with care despite the way his hips pressed up into you.  “It’s ok, I got you.” “Oh god nghm..” It was hard not to loose yourself in the sensation as he filled you over and over, walls pushing back against him each time, Bucky managing to find the angles that sent your reeling each time as your breathing got tighter he moved like a big cat above you all rippling muscle your leg up against his chest as your own hips thrusted back to meet his. “Oh yes Doll. Yeah, just like that, move like that for me.”

His head would go back groaning when you ground your hips into his thrusts. But you felt that familiar strong need building as the heat in your blood reached boiling point.

“Bu-Bucky, Bucky..” Your voice as tight needy and raw as your hand grabbed at his thigh.

“Yeah, fuck come for me Doll. Going to make you mine, let me watch you break.” His own voice straining as his thrust got harder and a little erratic, his own edge clearly close as he waited for you to fall, needing you to fall apart for him.

You looked up at him, eyes locked on his steely blue that looked almost feral in the fire light as he took you apart, before it all got to much at the waves of pleasure crash into you pulling you under as your back arched on the floor crying out as your nails dug into his thigh, He hammered into you harder, before crying out hot ropes coursing into you painting your insides before collapsing down over the top of you.

“Jesus Christ Doll.” He swore holding himself up over you so not to crush you, your walls still grabbing as he twitched and pulsed inside you. All you did was pant and whimper as you came down. Bucky placing a softer kiss on your forehead. “Still with me Sweet thing?”

“I, think so..” You panted out, Bucky laughing a little as he ran kissed you lightly still breathing hard himself and wrapped himself around you in the blanket.

“Definitely warm now..”  You joked slowly coming back down as he pulled out and got onto his back pulling out over onto him.

“Yeah, me too.”  

[buckyalpine]

A thot. A smutty, slutty, scandalous thot. With Bodyguard Bucky. Possessiveness, size kink, breeding kink, all of it. Now, imagine being the sweet, quiet, beautiful wife of the esteemed John Walker, CEO of Walker Industries. You sit at his table, clapping with the proudest smile on your face as he accepts an award for another successful year. Your husband dedicates all his success to the beautiful woman who has supported him through all the ups and downs, who has been by his side through it all.

You.

You blow a shy kiss in his direction when the cameras pan over to you, giggling at the wink he throws back. The press will have a field day about the most envied couple in the world, so perfect and so in love. As the night nears its end, your husband gives your hand a squeeze from where he sits beside you, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"Going to have to stop by office darling, one our major investors just called" He kisses your cheek affectionately with an apologetic look on his face but the understanding smile you give him back lets him know you're not the least bit upset.

"Of course, I'll miss you" You reply and take a sip from your champagne, appearing oblivious to the glances that are thrown your way by the others as your husband leaves without you, his secretary following closely behind him.

All the hushed whispers.

Poor woman has no idea.

All the secrets.

Just a pretty thing on his arm, probably doesn't have a clue.

Doesn't have a clue her husband has been carrying on with his secretary late into the nights and all through out his business trips.

Such a shame she's none the wiser. Has no one thought to tell her? Pity she's genuinely so in love with him.

Truly such a shame, wasn't it?

Such a shame your husband had no idea your bodyguard fucked your brains out till he busted balls deep in side you every chance he got.

Bucky doesn't say a word as he leads you out of the venue, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, helping you into the car. As soon as he slipped in beside you, you rolled up the dark partition before slinking onto his lap and slamming your lips against his. Bucky groaned against your lips, his hands finding their way home to grope and spank your ass, guiding your hips to grind down on his erection straining against his black pants.

"Need me to take care of you, huh princess" He murmured against the shell of your ear before going back to lacing his tongue with yours causing a shiver to run down your spine, nipping his pouty lip and grasping onto the lapels of his blazer.

No time was wasted as you straightened yourself out upon entering your home, quickly dismissing the staff to leave for the night, giving you free reign to do as you pleased.

As soon as the house was empty, he tossed you over his shoulder, striding up the stairs and straight to the master bedroom. He dropped you onto your large bed, tearing your dress in half down the middle, letting the material fall away at your feet.

"Fuck this" He grabbed your left hand, tugging off the wedding band you wore for appearances and tossing it carelessly across the room. He took off the silver tog tags that hung around his neck, slipping them over your head and letting his name sit perfectly between your breasts, the sight making him feral.

"Didn't even bother with panties" Bucky licked his lips at the sight of your bare naked body, not even a tiny sliver of lace covering your modesty. "You knew, didn't you"

"Always" You purred, knowing damn well your husband would fuck off to bang his desperate little secretary, unknowingly also giving you the night of your life you so badly craved. You crawled to the middle of the bed, your legs spread while Bucky tossed his blazer and shirt off, his pants and brief's quick to follow.

"Lookit you baby, so naughty, fuckin' your bodyguard in the same bed your husband sleeps in"

You let out a needy whimper while he stayed at the edge of the bed enjoying the view, his hand coming down to wrap around his cock giving himself long, languid strokes.

"James, please" you pleaded with a pout but Bucky just smirked in return, hissing as he swiped his thumb over the wet slit of his cockhead.

"I know prinţesă, I know, let me look at how pretty you are" He cooed, joining you on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his thick shoulders while he let his cock slip between your folds, rolling his hips to hump against your bare cunt. "You're soaked angel, been waiting for this, hm?"

"Wanted you so bad, need you James" Your hips bucked up, chasing the feeling of his fat cock rubbing against you, his swollen cockhead bumping your clit every time he pushed forward. "No teasing, please, missed your cock so bad"

"Shhh, you have me baby, m'right here, yeah?" Bucky kissed away the tears that started to slip down your cheeks, your arousal smearing all over his balls. He guided his dripping cockhead to press against your clit making you cry out, circling his most sensitive parts against yours, "M'right here, feel that angel? Y'feel how wet m'getting for you baby, right on that pretty clit, such a good girl letting me jus' leak all over her slutty little pussy, fuck theres so much precum 'nd m'not even inside you yet"

You'd never felt more empty, clawing at Bucky's back, your pussy fluttering and clenching over the way his silky tip kept tracing circles around your throbbing, sensitive bud. He flicked his cockhead across your clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

"S'fuckin' tight, sh-shit" Bucky moaned as he started to press into you, sliding all the way home in one swift motion. He stayed still, holding your body close to his while your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, begging for him to do something.

"Move Jamie, please, c'mon, fuck me damn it, I need you, I need- FUCCKK" Your words slurred into sobs as Bucky started to fuck you hard and fast, already too needy with having to get a night alone with you.

"Needed me huh angel? fuckin' needed you too, s'all I think about pretty girl, just me n' you, how-oh fuck- how are you so tight around my cock" Bucky rambled, bringing his knee up to get a deeper angle, his hands coming to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress.

"Missed-fuck-missed you Jamie" You whimpered, your pussy squeezing and sucking his cock back in,

"My baby loves her fat cock, I know, know you're so empty when I can't fill you up sweet girl, you love your bodyguard's big dick don't you" The taunt in his voice only got you off more, your eyes rolling back as he continued to rail you. "You're pussy's choking me so tight, don't think I can hold back tonight princess, don't think I'll be able to pull out"

"Don't" you whispered and something in the air switched, the highly charged sexual tension replaced with something more desperate and needy as you clung onto each other reading closer and closer to your highs.

"Mmph, y'can't say that, gonna wet your bed with my cum prinţesă, you'd like that wouldn't you, my cum covering all your sheets, your pillows smelling like me, letting me fill you up till your belly gets all swollen"

Bucky's voice melted into a whine, his dominance faltering into something needier, quickly shoving the thought away because he knew there was no chance. It would never happen. You'd never be so careless for such an accident to happen.

"Want it Jamie, want it all with you, please, don't-fuck, oh God-don't pull out" Your glassy eyes wet with tears showed no signs of deception but it couldn't be. He searched your gaze and you could see the innocence in his face wishing this were real, the way his body moved with yours, wishing it was just you and him. "St-stopped taking birth control"

Bucky sobbed at your confession, fucking you harder, making the headboard slam against the wall with his powerful thrusts. His hips snapped , shoving his cock all the way into your pussy, his balls growing heavier at the thought of leaving a piece of him inside of your fertile womb.

"you're fuckin' mine, you hear me? Mine. Mine. Mine. Say it!" Bucky grunted, biting your neck making you scream, your back arching off the bed, pressing your chest further against his.

"M'yours, all yours, just' yours" You slurred out, eyes rolling back and your moans turning nearly silent as immense pleasure crept down your spine.

"Gonna put my baby in you, make you mine forever, fuck your husband, your gonna be the mother of my child, just you prinţesă, all you, ALL YOU" Bucky roared against your neck as he shot ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, giving you harsh, sloppy thrusts as he grew more sensitive. He wrapped his arms around your body with his face tucked into your neck, shuddering at the feeling of your soft hands caressing his back, running your fingers through his soft cropped locks.

You hardly noticed him carrying you over to his room down the hall, tucking you into the warm sheets, resting your head on his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you" You murmured, smiling at the empty space on your ring finger and feeling the comforting coolness of his chain around your neck.

One day.

"I love you more, prinţesă" Bucky murmured, meaning every word as you both drifted off to sleep.

You couldn't wait to leave your husband.

a/n: This was meant to be way sluttier and less in the feels so might need to revisit this with a different version