#sebastian+stan+fandom

[aquaticmercy]

In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself. 

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear. 

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—” 

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up. 

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion. 

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you. 

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud. 

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her. 

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish. 

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen. 

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. 

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her. 

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips. 

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life. 

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality. 

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs. 

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently. 

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his. 

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?” 

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have. 

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring. 

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.” 

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm. 

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. 

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.” 

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket. 

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you. 

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now  carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away. 

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly. 

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her.  “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you. 

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

[navybrat817]

Vanilla Frosting

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a call at home and you decide to tease him a bit.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, dirty thoughts, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you.

A/N: I blame these photos as they gave me CEO vibes. And @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer . Again, before our couple has Muffin and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“I thought you said no calls, Boss.”

Bucky sighed and rolled up his sleeves as he looked toward the kitchen. You stood in the doorway with crossed arms and slow building irritation in your eyes. The sight of you always lightened his mood and made his heart race, but that look wasn't a good sign. Oh, he was in trouble.

Some sort of trouble.

As a CEO, he was always prepared to take the fall when it came to his company. Seeing your kissable mouth set in a grim line though? “It’s Steve’s fault,” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.

“Really, Buck?” Steve’s voice rang out from the laptop speaker.

“Yeah, really,” he snapped. When Steve found a partner like you, he’d get why he bent his will to you over everyone else. Hell, he welcomed Steve getting a bit of payback because it would mean his best friend would have found happiness. “I’m sorry, Cupcake,” he added in a softer tone to you.

He didn’t want to take the call, he really didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you and forget about the stress of work for an evening. He even assured you that there would be no work tonight, but Steve insisted he get on a video chat with some of the executive team. God knew the punk was relentless, but the unimpressed look on your face made him want to fire everyone and start from scratch.

The two of you had plenty of money, so you’d be set if he went that route.

“Steve’s fault, huh?” You slowly smiled after a moment. “Okay. You take the call and I’ll start making some cupcakes.”

Bucky cocked his head with a confused stare as you went further into the kitchen and out of sight. Baking cupcakes wasn't out of the ordinary for you, but you saying “okay” wasn't okay. He knew better. There was no possible way he was off the hook for this. He already had at least ten gifts in mind to buy you once the call wrapped up.

“I love you,” he called after you, not at all ashamed for anyone to hear that as they joined the meeting. If anyone eyeballed him or said an unkind word about voicing his feelings for you outside of the office, they could find another job.

“Love you, too!” You called back.

That brought a small smile to his face. “Let’s get started so we can all get back to our regular evening plans,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

After a minute, he glanced over the monitor as he heard gentle movement in the kitchen. You weren't slamming things around, which was good. You understood how crazy things could get since you were his secretary. It didn't mean he enjoyed taking time away from the two of you and he didn’t want you upset with him. Even if you weren't upset, he still had to make it up to you. He-

“Hey, Bucky?” Your eyes lit up as you appeared in the doorway again with a small bowl. He was certain he forgot how to breathe when he eyed what you were wearing: a new black and white apron. And nothing else. Jesus fucking Christ. “You want vanilla frosting for the cupcakes, right?”

Bucky subtly shifted in his seat as you sauntered further into the room, his throat dry at the sight of you. The curve of your hips, your hardened nipples teasing him through the fabric. Calling you beautiful wasn't enough. Your beauty was transcendent, indescribable. The kind that made the strongest of people drop to their knees. He was a powerful man, but still just a man at the end of the day and you rendered him powerless. And right now he needed to focus on the call, but how could he focus on anything but you?

He cleared his throat when Jack rambled on about something. Or was it John? Who gave a fuck? “Cupcake,” he growled.

“I know I do. Maybe you can frost me later?” You scooped a bit of frosting onto your finger and wrapped your lips around it with an obscene moan. Thankfully he had his microphone turned off. They didn't need to hear your pretty sounds. “Mmm.”

He groaned when you showed him your tongue. He knew it was frosting, but the image made it easy to picture you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock and showing him his release before you swallowed like a good girl. It took a lot of control not to palm himself. Surely everyone would understand if he ended the call now. Why the fuck did he take this call?

Making sure his hand was out of sight, he beckoned you closer with his finger. If he was lucky he could get you to take the apron off, sit in the nearby chair, and touch yourself. Or you could keep the apron on. As long as he could see your glistening pussy. Even looking wouldn't be enough. He had to get his mouth on it, his cock in it.

But you didn't go to him.

Instead, you tsked with the finger you licked and pointed at the laptop. “Oh, no, Boss. You listened to Steve and took the call. Now deal with the consequences,” you smiled sweetly, turning on your heel and giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walked back into the kitchen.

Yep, he was in big trouble.

Bucky's fists clenched as he got back to the task at hand, but he also chuckled. He deserved a bit of blue balls for the time being. He also had to respect the way you played the game, but he knew how to play the game, too. Before the night was over, he’d be back in your good graces. He’d eat one of your delicious cupcakes before he got a taste of you. And he'd remind you that he didn't have the world because of money, power, or any of that.

Bucky Barnes had the world because he had you.

Oh, these two. 🥰 Steve isn't even upset for getting blamed. 🤣 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mohish-ko]

I allow you to pet them

[boxofbonesfic]

scene prompt! bucky eating you out until you physically can’t take it anymore but he doesn’t stop.

Title: You’re Gonna Give Me Six

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Absolute Filth. Cunnilingus, Overstimulation

You don’t even see him before his arms are anchored tight around your waist, his face buried against the back of your neck. He smells like sweat and motor oil, and you know the fingers he’s digging into your hip through the fabric of your dress are stained with the stuff—they always are. There’s a smudge of it on his cheek, a testament to how quickly he’d fled the garage downstairs upon seeing your car pull into the driveway.

“Missed you.” Bucky breathes the words against your skin and you shiver as they leave goosebumps. You know he means it, the way he sighs and presses his nose into the loose curls at the nape of your neck. Bucky doesn’t talk much—a trait you still find a little unsettling, but you’re learning to read him the way he reads you; learning how to hear words hidden in the slow pass of his hand or the upward curl of his lips. It makes his words heavy, like they’re carrying more than just themselves—so you know he means them. 

“I was only gone a week.” Your words are muffled by his shoulder. You can feel his lips curve against your throat. He hums low in his throat. 

“S’ too long.” When he dumps you onto the bed, the sheets all smell like him, like he’s spent every night you were apart here in your apartment. You suspect that if you were to bury your face in the pillows, you’d smell his aftershave.

“How’m I supposed t’sleep ‘less I can feel you right next to me, Peach?” Your feet dangle off the edge of the bed as Bucky settles himself between your thighs. “Ain’t slept good in days.” His hands are warm on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing circles into your bare skin as he pushes the hem of your dress up over your hips.

“And that’s my fault?” You ask teasingly, though your boyfriend nods without missing a beat. 

“Mmm.” He drags his finger down over the swell of your cunt through your panties, before cupping it with one huge hand. “Got some apologies to make, I reckon.” You squeal as he tugs your panties tight, tugging them back and forth between the lips of your pussy like dental floss. You gasp. 

“B-Buck—” He snaps the elastic against you before tugging them to the side. 

“That’s good, Peach,” he says, his rough hands spreading your thighs apart as he lowers himself between them. “All I wanna hear s’ my name.” The first touch of his tongue is electric, gently tracing the outline of your lips like he’s trying to map them out. Your sharp breath elicits a chuckle, and you feel his mouth curve against you. Bucky spreads your thighs further apart, slipping his tongue into your folds with a soft moan of appreciation. 

“Should’a done this before you got in that damn taxi,” he mumbles. “Should’a tasted you before you left.” You want to respond, but the words keep devolving into meaningless babble as his tongue works against you. His fingers dig into your thighs as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling it.

“O-oh f-fuck—”

You cum without warning, squeezing your thighs around his head as you rock your hips into his face. Bucky groans, holding you in place as your thighs tremble. He doesn’t stop, forcing your trembling thighs back open. 

“B-Bucky what, what—oh—” You arch into the mattress as he finds your swollen, overworked clit with his tongue. “B—” It’s like electricity exploding behind your unseeing eyes, and you keen as he slides two thick fingers into your sopping cunt, moaning low in his throat as you clamp down around him. 

“You’re gonna give me six more, Peach,” he says lowly. Bucky spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside you with a wet squelch. “One for every day you missed.” 

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

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

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

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

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[lives-in-midgard]

Bucky: Doll, why are you sitting on the counter?

Y/N: This is my apartment! I don't have to explain myself to you!

Bucky: *sighs* Where's the spider?

Y/N: Right there...

[cactus-cuddler]

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 ✭ 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub! virgin female reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Plot: There is no specific plot. Bucky and the reader like tease and are both dangerously attracted to each other

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: explicit sex, use of nicknames as "good girl", "slut" and "whore". Daddy kink and dirty talk. I don't think there are any other warnings.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k (sorry)

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ Author's note: sorry for any mistakes that may be there, English is not my first language! And sorry if the scenes may be badly written, it's been a long time since I wrote a smut between a woman and a man.

I write this ff because today I turn 18 (Happy Birthday to me!!) and I want so sign it. From today I can interact with all the "minor DNI" posts!!

I don't care if you are minors, read it if you want <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

James Buchanan Barnes. The very mention of this name can make your heart race, recalling his powerful presence, his toned physique, and the intense gaze he fixes on you whenever your paths cross. Your thoughts often wander to him, an obsession that fills your mind in the quietest hours of the night.

Yet, despite the thoughts that consume you, you're still a virgin. You’ve never found someone you were willing to give your heart to, let alone something more intimate. You've had relationships, but each time, you’ve held back, refusing to let things go beyond harmless flirtation. The thought of being vulnerable like that has always kept you at a distance. But with him, it’s different. There’s something about Bucky that makes you reconsider everything.

Your relationship with Bucky is hard to define. Sometimes you get along well, but other times, you find yourself wishing he would just disappear. And then there are moments when you wish he’d stop arguing with you altogether, using his frustration in ways that words can’t express. Is that too much to ask?

You’re curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a blanket to ward off the winter chill. As you flip through the channels, trying to find something to watch, your phone buzzes with incoming messages. Seeing his name on the screen sends a pang through your chest.

Teasing him has always been your favorite game. You start a random movie, not really caring about the plot, as you wait for him to arrive. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine signals that you're in trouble now.

When the doorbell rings, you open it, quickly masking your excitement. He’s standing there in his pajamas, and you can’t help but giggle. His pants have a childish space motif, and the matching sweatshirt does nothing to diminish his appeal. You’re wrapped in a blanket, so you're not much better off in his eyes.

"Popcorn?" he asks, and you invite him in. As he sees the movie already playing, he reminds you of his earlier request. You shrug and sit on the couch, munching on the popcorn he brought.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says, taking the remote to choose something else to watch.

“Just the way you like them,” you reply with a smirk.

You and Bucky work together in the same company, nothing out of the ordinary. You handle the computers and accounting, while Bucky works with metal. His vibranium arm would be perfect for his job, but he rarely uses it. "Oops, I’m right-handed, I do it without thinking," he says when someone asks why he doesn’t use his more powerful arm. You’ve seen how he looks at women, and it stirs something within you—a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

You first started talking after you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt a few months ago. To make amends, you offered to clean it, using a trick you’d read in a 1950s magazine titled "How to Be the Perfect Housewife." Not that you’re aiming for that role; you detest the idea of being confined by outdated gender roles. Patriarchy is disgusting! You would never want to marry a man in your life who confines you to a house with four children, a dog, three cats and a cactus to take care of alone.

Your conversations started off innocent enough, but things took a turn when you began texting late into the night. You both started teasing each other, pushing boundaries just to see how far the other would go. It became a game, one where neither of you wanted to lose face, even as feelings began to creep in.

So, how did he end up at your place tonight? You’re not sure, and it worries you. He’s never been to your house before. Sure, he’s given you rides home after work, a habit that started after the coffee incident. It became a routine, all because you playfully challenged his chivalry. “You? A gentleman? Don’t make me laugh,” you had texted him one morning. That very day, he was waiting outside your building, opening the car door for you. "It doesn’t mean anything," you had said to him in thanks. But tonight feels different.

The movie he picks is just awful. It’s filled with scenes of sex without sense.

“Is this too much for you? Should I change it?” he asks each time, and you just shake your head. In your life you see, read and write stuff more scandalous.

“How boring, if done like this even sex becomes boring," Bucky complains about another sex scene with the missionary position.

“You talk big, but I bet you couldn’t do any better,” you say, challenging him, not realizing what you’ve just started.

“With just one touch, I could make you scream my name,” he says, his voice low and intense. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you’re not backing down.

“I’d like to see you try,” you whisper, the challenge clear in your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze lingering, but then he sighs and turns back to the movie. “I’m a gentleman,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

You feel a wave of frustration, mixed with a sense of longing that you can’t quite shake. You don’t want him to be a gentleman; you want him to see you as more. You’re a ruthless woman, you won’t give up easily. If you are not satisfied with him, well you will do it yourself. In front of his eyes.

You take off your blanket and lift your shirt up to your hips and pull your panties off throwing them on the floor. You lie down on your back and put your feet on his knees. You put two fingers in your mouth and suck them in front of him. ‘He provoked me’. You repeat yourself so you don’t feel guilty about what you’re about to do.

You do small circular movements on your clit and slowly start to sigh for the pleasure you are causing yourself.

“Bucky..." you say between moaning as you start to penetrate your little cunt with two fingers. Bucky is doing everything he can to hold himself back. His erection thills in his boxer asking to be released and enjoy for you and your warmth however he does not want to give up. It will not look but has solid moral principles and not taking your virginity is one of those.

“Bucky… please fuck me with your cock,” you say clenching your couch with fingers to hold back your spasms. This provocation has hit the mark, his erection is now painful and not releasing it could drive him crazy. Reach out to your face, sweat drops are playing on your forehead. He orders you to sit down and you perform. You are sitting one next to the other and you have your leg over his to allow him free access to your pussy.

"I won’t take your virginity," he announces by passing his thumb along your big lips. An unsatisfied grunt comes out of your lips, you want more. Much more than that.

“Why not?" you complain "I want you Bucky, I want to shout your name" add grumbling.

"It would be a nice show, believe me sweetheart but I can’t deprive you of your first time with someone you love," he says. In a flash all the previous excitement fades away as if in a spell. You close your legs and ask him to leave. "You can’t decide what’s right or wrong for me" you told him by pulling out your voice. He’s made his choice, and for tonight, that will have to be enough.

As he leaves, you find yourself wondering what it would take to bridge the gap between you. Because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want more from him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

The next morning, you wake up hoping that the night with Bucky was just a bad dream—a nightmare you could shake off with a shiver. But as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you realize that it was all too real. The memory comes rushing back: you, vulnerable and exposed, touching yourself in front of him, moaning his name, only to be met with rejection. Your cheeks flush with a mix of shame and frustration. How could I have let myself go like that?

But there’s another thought that creeps in, unbidden. Despite everything, a part of you finds it almost sweet that Bucky doesn’t want to take your virginity unless it’s something more than just lust. He wants you to save it for someone you truly love. But the truth is, you do want it. You want him. The image of his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your body, flashes through your mind, and you feel a pang of desire so intense it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve fantasized about him for so long—wondered if he could fulfill the dark, desperate needs you’ve kept buried. You’re sure you wouldn’t regret giving him your first time, so why should he?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me,’ you think suddenly, the possibility of hitting you like a bucket of cold water. ‘Maybe I’m just a game to him, someone he can tease and torment without ever really wanting.’ The thought is unbearable, twisting in your gut like a knife.

You force yourself out of bed, deciding that you won’t let these thoughts ruin your day. Before work, you brew a hot cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give you the energy you need to push through. You can’t face Bucky today—not after last night. Instead, you opt for your favorite mode of transport, the one so many dismiss as the “poor man’s commute.” But you’ve always found the train comforting, a place where you can disappear into your thoughts without the pressure of small talk or the need to keep up appearances.

The ride is uneventful, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing your nerves somewhat. When you arrive at your stop, your office is just a short walk away. You’re early—too early, really—so you take your time, letting your mind wander as you stroll. The morning air is crisp, and the world feels strangely peaceful. ‘Why can’t my mind be this calm?’ you wonder, but of course, it’s not that simple. Last night’s events linger, casting a shadow over everything.

Just as you’re about to step inside, your phone rings, the sound jolting you out of your thoughts. His name flashes on the screen, and your heart skips a beat. What does he want now?

"Y/N, come down now or we'll be late!" Bucky's voice snaps through the line, sharp with irritation. You can almost see the frown on his face, the way his brows would knit together. But with a calmness that surprises even you, you tell him you're already at the office, having taken the train.

"I hope you're joking," he growls, his voice low and husky, sending a familiar shiver down your spine. Even when he's angry, it's a voice that could melt you.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," you reply, hanging up before he can say more. The truth is, you didn't want to face him this morning, not after last night. The thought of seeing his cold blue eyes, remembering how they watched you with a mix of desire and restraint, makes your chest tighten.

You greet your colleagues warmly, slipping on your glasses as you sit at your desk, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of Bucky's gaze, the way his hand almost trembled before he pulled away from you, keeps playing on a loop.

Hours pass in a blur of work until lunchtime, when Bucky suddenly appears at your usual spot in the break room. The moment you see him, your heart skips a beat. His presence fills the space, commanding and intense. You watch as he approaches, your colleagues' chatter fading into the background.

"I need to talk to you, Y/N," he says, his voice a mix of urgency and something deeper-something almost vulnerable. His eyes, however, are still guarded, a wall you've never been able to fully break through.

Your colleagues exchange knowing glances, smirking, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Without a word, you follow Bucky out of the room, conscious of the curious eyes behind you.

He leads you to the women's bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he begins, but the words seem empty, as if even he doesn't believe them.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding now, and you don't know if it's from anger, confusion, or the mere proximity to him.

"For last night. I have no right to tell you who should take your virginity," he says, but you quickly cover his mouth with your hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Don't say that out loud!" you hiss, glancing around as if someone might be listening. The idea that anyone might hear about your inexperience makes you cringe.

His lips curl into a smirk beneath your hand, and he gently removes it, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of electricity through you. "Do you still want it?" he whispers, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice is dark, teasing, but there's something else there too-a hint of uncertainty, as if he's afraid of your answer.

Your breath catches as he presses his knee between your legs, his hands firm on your hips. God, why does he have to be so confusing? You need him, but his mixed signals are driving you insane.

"You have to understand, I don't want you to regret anything you do with me," he murmurs against your lips, finally adjusting his knee just where you need it. Your body responds instantly, a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

His words are laced with concern, but also with a promise of something darker. "Even though it may not seem like it, I really care about you," he continues, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your chest ache. You feel small under his gaze, like a puzzle he's trying to figure out. And yet, in this position, you're certain you could unravel completely in his hands.

"The day I fuck you, I want to hear words like 'I love you, Daddy' coming out of your mouth. I don't want it to be a simple one-night stand, okay?" he finishes, pulling back just as quickly as he came, leaving you breathless and reeling.

As the door closes behind him, you're left with the echo of his words, your thoughts spiraling. 'How can he have this much control over me?' you wonder, struggling to steady your breath. Your heart is racing, your body still humming with the desire he left behind. Until yesterday, you were convinced your relationship with Bucky was built on mutual dislike and a twisted game of dominance. But now, you're not so sure. There's something deeper-a need, an almost primal urge to possess and be possessed.

The day you finally give in to him won't be gentle. You can feel it in the way your bodies clash, in the intensity of his gaze. It will be raw, fierce, and everything you've secretly craved. And when it happens, you'll be ready to let him see every part of you-the parts you've never shown anyone else, not even yourself.

After work Bucky takes you home, you decide to let go of what happened because now you know that he wants you as much as you do. He wants to be there for you and give you everything you can give.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day," you admit, adjusting Bucky's seatbelt. It feels tighter than it should and you think it's the reason you're short of breath when in reality it's the man in the driver's seat who's gripping the wheel in a way that's too erotic for your tastes.

"What conclusion have you come to?" he asks without taking his eyes off the road. The way his jaw clenched when he spoke and the hint of a neat beard on his cheeks spark some very perverse thoughts in you.

"I want you Bucky, so much. It wouldn't be a one night stand, I know I'd be addicted to your body pressing against mine," you admit bravely and a smile lights up his face.

“Show me how much you want me,” he taunts you.

You decide to please him without using your sharp tongue and you reach out to the crotch of his pants to feel what you have dreamed of so much. Under your fingers you feel him slowly swelling and as you feel it you bite your lip to hold back the excitement that is growing inside you.

You unzip his pants while he is still driving, you notice that he has slowed down and on his face you notice the desire he has for you. As soon as you free his cock you notice that your fantasies did not do him justice. It is definitely bigger and thicker than the one you imagined you rode every night. You wet your hand with saliva - as you have seen done in many pornos - and you start to touch it enjoying the heat on your hand.

You make small movements with the palm of your hand and the idea that someone could see you does nothing but excite you more. You are not an expert, you do not know what he might like more but despite this the movements of your hand are decisive.

"I knew you were a good girl," Bucky says from behind the wheel. Seeing how he's reacting to your touch excites you even more. His breathing is no longer regular, you see his expression satisfied by your touch and when you notice that there are only a few meters left to your house you almost feel sorry.

You start to pump faster, you have decided to challenge yourself and you want to make him come before you get to your house. As your hand increases the speed his sighs become faster and faster and when you see from his look that he is close to that point you take off your belt and lower yourself towards his big cock and take his tip between your lips until your mouth is filled.

"Such a good girl," he says to you while parking the car and you look into his eyes smiling, swallowing all his seed and licking your lips to show him that you liked it.

He fixes his cock in his jeans and then follows you into your home. He intends to return the favor you have done him and will really make you scream as he always threatened while he was teasing you. Once the door is closed behind you, you begin to kiss with desire. Your tongues touch and search for each other and feeling your taste mixed with his cum gives him another throbbing erection despite the orgasm of a few minutes ago.

“I knew there was a whore inside you looking for my cock," he tells you in a hoarse voice. Your body is on fire, you need him to give you more. He makes you lie down on the same couch where he rejected you less than twenty-four hours ago and begins to undress you hastily without paying attention to your clothes. He scatters everything around the room and when you are finally naked in front of his gaze he admires you in amazement.

You are perfect. Your body is perfect in his eyes. Every little imperfection that you see in it are things that he loves. You are a Greek goddess in his eyes and every part of you belongs to him and you both know it. From the day you stained his white shirt with coffee you already knew it would end like this.

He starts taking your breasts with his big hands, only his mind knows how many times he has wanted to touch them, bite them and suck them and now everything is possible. With his metallic hand he holds one of your nipples tightly, the cold touch of his hand makes you arch your back with pleasure and in the meantime he sucks and bites the other nipple making you want even more. Your gasps are music to his ears, your body is like an instrument in his hands and with every touch he is able to let out those little sounds he loves.

“Bucky, please I want more,” you beg with the help of your needy gaze.

"What a needy whore, isn't you?" he sneers and you nod to agree with him. You want to be his whore for tonight and for all the nights to come. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body and then lingers on your pussy. The place where you need him to focus.

With his thumb he begins to touch your clit and in the meantime his gaze is fixed on your face dominated by pleasure from that insignificant touch. While with his thumb he continues his work with his middle finger he begins to penetrate your cunt going deep to feel how wet you are just for him.

"What a wet pussy we have," he compliments and then licks your juices from his fingers and satisfied he licks his lips.

He makes you sit with your back to the backrest and positions himself between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. As he enters you with two fingers, he begins to lick your clit while your hands are firmly on his head. You push him closer to you while desperate cries escape from your lips. Before that, you had never felt anything more pleasurable. His tongue moves expertly on your tight pussy sucking the right spots and alternating with licking.

“Bucky… I’m about to come,” you tell him between sighs of pleasure.

"Good girls only come when they are told, you are a good girl aren't you?" he tells you after taking his tongue off the place he was devouring with pleasure. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you impulsively suck his fingers taking all your flavor away from him. Your pussy is sweet and the taste and smell make Bucky ecstatic. He starts to undress too, letting his erection come out, now it seems even bigger than before and you don't know if you'll be able to take it all. But you know you'll make it, you want to show Bucky that you're a good girl. Good girls can take all the cock.

Before filling your pussy Bucky positions himself between your breasts and you squeeze them around his hard and veiny member. He starts moving with restrained rhythms while you stick out your tongue to lick the tip when you have the chance.

"You have no idea how much I've dreamed of being between these tits," he tells you between thrusts. Your hot tits around his throbbing cock are an incredible sight. Then Bucky takes a condom from his jeans pocket and orders you to put it on him.

You tear it off with your fingers and place it on the tip of Bucky's cock and then with your lips you cover that member with the condom.

“You're my good girl," he says, caressing your cheek. Then with a brusque gesture he turns you around and you find yourself doggy style on the couch with your legs wide open. He spits on his fingers and lubricates your pussy and then he enters you. Slowly and trying to get you used to it, it's still your first time.

His thrusts are slow but firm. It's not enough for you, you want more.

"Bucky..." you say between sighs.

"I know, baby... let your pussy get at ease to my big cock," he replies, putting his hand around your neck and then touching your breasts with the nipples still hard and stained by him. As soon as he notices that you no longer feel any pain, he increases his speed. He fills you up completely, making you scream with pleasure, he doesn't give you time to make you understand that he's sending your mind into a spin.

"Bucky... I'm going to..." you can't finish your sentence because he slaps you on the right butt. The slap sends you into paradise.

"You can only come when daddy tells you to," he replies, slapping you again, this time on your left ass cheek making you scream in pleasure.

After many deep and fast thrusts you feel the orgasm inside you, holding it back is fucking hard but you don't want to disobey Bucky, or rather, your daddy. He has taken away all your sharp responses with his cock turning you into a perfect whore for him. Like you always dreamed.

"Come for daddy, doll," he orders you, he's almost ready to come too but he wants to do it to you. On top of your body. You don't have to be told twice and you come on his big cock and as soon as he comes out of you he takes off the condom and orders you to get on your knees in front of him.

He starts touching himself in front of you and explodes in an orgasm on your beautiful face throwing away every single ounce of purity you had left. You lick your lips hoping to be able to take some of his cum and be able to taste it again like in the car. He grabs your neck and kisses you with fury. Your mouths both taste like the sex you shared and you can't be happier.

“You did really well,” he tells you and you bite your lip at the compliment. “I'm proud of you," he adds, giving you another long, longing kiss.

You go to take a shower to wash your sweaty bodies but "by mistake" Bucky's cock enters your pussy again and fucks you in your shower again giving you the second orgasm of the day and again by mistake his cock ends up in your mouth and Bucky teaches you how to give a blowjob that satisfies him. As soon as you finish the shower you slip into your bed, he wants to be with you after what you have shared and once in bed you fall asleep hugging each other.

The next morning, thankfully a Sunday, you devour everything you have to eat. You were so into sex that you didn't have dinner last night and your arguments resume but end with you rolling around in bed.

This new perspective excites you more than it should, every argument now corresponds to a perfect fuck and now to shut you up Bucky will put his cock in your mouth. "What a beautiful whore you are when you suck it," and these dirty words help you get an orgasm. Bucky says good girls like to be called whores and you are one.

"You're all mine," he tells you while you're sitting at the kitchen table where you've just finished eating, he said he wanted dessert so you you decide to propose yourself as a meal. You took off your panties and without being asked he was between your legs sucking and licking his sweet dessert.

"I love you daddy," you say closer to your orgasm, those are Bucky's favorite words. They make him understand that everything about you is his, your heart, your perfect cunt, your mouth and the rest of your body.

[daliaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa]

Bi-panic.

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

TRUST

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Slight shading of smut, fluff, and spice ✨

Summary: You wanted to play a little instagram trend to Bucky, where you ask to drive his car. And his answer leaves you speechless.

Authors Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

This was in my notes app for a long time, hope you enjoy.

Bucky had been waiting for this night longer than he cared to admit. After weeks away on a mission, all he could think about was you-your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was your whole world, and the way you fit perfectly into his arms. When he finally pulled up to your place in his brand-new Porsche Carrera 119, everything felt right again.

The sleek black car gleamed under the streetlights, purring softly as Bucky brought it to a stop. He watched as you stepped out of your apartment, looking like something out of his dreams, and his breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he saw you, you always managed to take his breath away. With a wide grin, he hopped out of the car, quickly making his way around to open the door for you.

"Hey, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice deep and full of warmth as he took your hand, helping you into the car.

You flashed him that smile that made his world light up, and Bucky felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He might have been an old soul, but the way you made him feel was entirely new-like he was falling in love for the first time all over again.

The night was perfect. Dinner at a cozy little restaurant where the two of you could just be yourselves, followed by a slow walk along the waterfront. The city was alive around you, but all Bucky cared about was the sound of your voice and the feel of your hand in his. After weeks of missions, close calls, and constant vigilance, this was what he needed—a night where he could just be with you.

As the evening wound down, Bucky led you back to the Porsche, his hand resting comfortably on the small of your back. He moved to open the passenger door for you, but before you could get in, a playful thought crossed your mind. You'd seen a trend on Instagram-a silly challenge where you ask your partner to let you drive their car, just to see if they trust you. You knew Bucky loved this car, and you were certain he'd laugh it off, maybe tease you a little before getting behind the wheel himself.

But as you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you couldn't resist asking.

"Hey, Bucky," you began, biting your lip. "Mind if I drive?"

You expected him to hesitate, to make a joke about how much he loved the car, but instead, Bucky just raised an eyebrow and handed you the keys without a second thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Sure, doll," he said smoothly, his voice low and confident. "It's all yours."

You blinked, surprised, the keys now in your hand.

You thought he might change his mind, but instead, Bucky just walked around to the passenger side, sliding in with that easy confidence that always made your heart skip a beat.

With a mix of excitement and nerves, you settled into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors and taking a deep breath. You could feel Bucky's eyes on you, watching with that familiar intensity that always made you feel like the most important person in the world. His hand found its way to your thigh, fingers gently squeezing, sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Just don't wreck it, sweetheart," he teased, though his tone was more playful than serious.

You laughed, easing the car onto the road, the engine responding smoothly to your touch. But even as you drove, Bucky's hand remained on your thigh, his fingers slowly, deliberately tracing patterns on your skin. The touch was light, teasing, but enough to send shivers up your spine.

"You're doing great," Bucky murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something that made your pulse quicken. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I love watching you take control."

His words sent a thrill through you, but it was his hand, sliding just a little higher up your thigh, that made you suck in a sharp breath. The road was suddenly harder to focus on with the way he was touching you, the heat of his hand seeping through your clothes, igniting a fire low in your belly.

"Bucky," you breathed, trying to sound composed, but the way he was looking at you-like he was ready to devour you-made it difficult to concentrate.

"Yeah?" he responded, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his touch both possessive and teasing. "Something distracting you?"

You shot him a quick glance, catching the smirk on his lips, the way his eyes had darkened with that familiar heat that made your stomach flutter. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Nothing I can't handle," you managed to say, though your voice wavered, betraying the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "That's my girl."

The drive felt like it stretched on forever, Bucky's hand never leaving your thigh, his fingers exploring, teasing, driving you to distraction. The hum of the engine, the cool night air, the city lights—all of it blurred together as you focused on the heat of his touch, the way it was making your pulse race, your skin tingle with anticipation.

By the time you pulled up to the Avengers HQ, your heart was pounding, your body humming with the tension he'd so expertly built. You put the car in park, taking a moment to catch your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky was already watching you, his eyes dark and full of something that made your breath catch.

Without a word, he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, sending another jolt of electricity through you.

"You did amazing, doll," he said softly, his voice rich with affection, but there was an edge to it now-a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved against yours with a possessive hunger, one hand sliding into your hair, the other tightening its grip on your thigh. The kiss was deep, demanding, leaving you breathless as his tongue teased yours, pulling you into a rhythm that made your head spin.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were still brushing against yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I trust you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough, laced with a promise that made your heart race. "More than anything."

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten, but there was no time to dwell on it as he leaned in again, his mouth finding yours with a fervor that left you dizzy. His hand slid higher, fingers digging into your thigh, making you gasp into his mouth as he deepened the kiss.

There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you-like he was trying to pour every ounce of emotion he had into it, his lips, his touch, telling you everything words couldn't. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.

"I trust you with everything, doll," he murmured, his voice soft but full of emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with affection and something deeper, something that felt like it had been there all along, just waiting to be

acknowledged. As you sat there in the dim light of the HQ's parking lot, his hand still resting on your thigh, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more moments like this-each one filled with love, passion, and a trust that would only grow stronger with time.

And with Bucky by your side, you knew you were ready for whatever came next.

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mohish-ko]

★ Winter Soldier spotted you, 2 seconds to react,,, your actions? ★

[bubbarnes]

“... and Bucky is about a guy that has to live with his past and having done all these horrible despicable things and find a reason to live and a purpose to live again. that was very real to me.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Those Cold Nights (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: bucky always waits for you at the end of your shift to make sure you get home safely.

WC: 556

Warnings: fluff, soft, cuddly, warm bucky

A/N: i've been finding/locating a lot of my older tumblr fics from old moots/followers i had on blogs i had that are long deleted now. All of these fics can be read on my ao3 linked below. hope you enjoy <3

Read on Ao3!

-

The night air was crisp, a gentle chill that made you pull your jacket a bit tighter as you waved goodbye to the last of the customers. Wiping down the counter, you glanced up at the clock and sighed. Another late night. As if reading your mind, the familiar ding of the door opening made you glance up, and there he was, as always, leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky greeted, his voice smooth but warm, like dark coffee with just a touch of cream.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to wait,” you replied, but a smile tugged at your lips. You knew by now it was no use trying to convince him otherwise. From the first day he’d asked to walk you home, Bucky Barnes had waited for you at the end of every shift, even if you worked late. It was just something he did, and honestly? You’d grown to look forward to it.

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, blue eyes steady as he watched you finish closing up. You noticed the way he looked at you tonight – maybe it was the tired lines under your eyes or the way you leaned a bit too heavily against the counter. Bucky never missed a thing.

You locked up, grabbing your bag, and he fell into step beside you, his gaze still fixed on you. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you fall into the quiet, comfortable rhythm of walking together under the streetlights. The city felt peaceful like this, as if it were just the two of you wrapped in its glow.

As you reached your apartment building, Bucky stopped just outside and nodded up to your floor. “How about a coffee? I’ll make it, you relax. You look like you could use one,” he offered with a gentle smile. You couldn’t say no, and honestly, the thought of his company sounded far better than falling asleep alone.

Inside, he moved with quiet confidence, setting up the coffee maker in your kitchen as if it were his own. You sank into the couch, exhaustion settling over you, but his presence added a warm, easy calm that seemed to lift the weight from your shoulders.

A few moments later, he handed you a steaming cup of coffee and took a seat beside you. You cradled the mug, savoring the smell and the warmth. Bucky didn’t try to fill the silence; he just sat close, content to be there. After a while, you looked up to find him watching you, an expression you couldn’t quite place softening his features.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and his hand brushed yours.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. “Just take it easy, okay? You do enough.”

You nodded, feeling his words sink in. He always seemed to know what to say, how to make you feel seen, even on your hardest days. And as he sat there, fingers just brushing yours, you felt a quiet certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time. Bucky was more than just a friend; he was becoming your comfort, your peace at the end of a long day.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” you asked, a hint of hope in your voice.

He nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, doll.”

--

this is your friendly reminder to reblog the fics you enjoy <3

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Monster

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Sacrifice!Reader

Kink: Teratophilia (Monsterfucking)

Summary: You draw the devil’s coin in the village lottery, you will buy another season of peace for your people—but you don’t want peace.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Monsterfucking, References to past violence, References to past murder, Witch Burning, Forced Marriage, Dubious Consent, Violence, Revenge, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Darkfic, Dark Fanfiction

A/N: as a note, this story does NOT share a universe with my other Orc story, Brave. this is another version of Orc!Bucky that i cooked up for kinktober. speaking of which, i hope you all enjoy the first installment of my 2023 kinktober ficlets and drabbles! mind the warnings, and enjoy!

Your wedding day dawns bleak and cold. The snows have come early this year, snuffing out the brief, brittle green of summer with icy finality, blanketing the hills in thick layers of white.

Your death day.

“Up with you.” You aren’t asleep, but Thera rips the blanket from you anyway. “Come. It’s time you prepare for your... husband.” There is no pity anywhere on her wrinkled face as she grimaces at you, her eyes dark with disgust. “Witch.” She mutters the last part like a curse you aren’t meant to hear. You do, though, and you bare  your teeth at Thera like an animal in response. You are satisfied when fear settles over her features, her rheumy eyes widening. 

“If I were a witch,” you hiss, “You would not stand whole before me, Thera Truthspeaker.” This time it is her name that burns in the ear like acid. “You would lay at my feet in pieces.”

She slaps you for the threat, and you taste blood in your mouth as your head jerks painfully. Thera grasps your chin, and you turn dazed eyes toward the old priestess.

“You speak with as foul a tongue as your mother,” she spits.

“Pity you couldn’t burn mine out of me like you did her.” At this, she looks regretful, cutting her eyes at you angrily.

“Lucky for you Demon King likes his brides whole.” She squeezes until you grunt with pain. “And unspoiled.” She tosses your head to the side before standing away from your cot before brushing her hands down her long, thick robes as though wiping your taint from them. “Save your venom, little snake. It is by my grace you were not put to the torch two seasons ago with your witch mother.”

You almost wish they had, instead of forcing the scarred coin into your hand. At least you can serve the light like this, the priest had said, his grim face illuminated by the firelight. You have not forgotten the way your mother’s body burned bright, her head turned heavenward, her mouth open in silent scream as the flames leapt from her blackened lips.

At least you can serve some good when he comes.

Despite her age, Thera’s grip is strong as she forces you up out of the narrow cot. The stone floor of the chapel is like ice on your bare feet as you stumble after her. There is an old metal basin in the chapel’s meager kitchen, and Thera instructs you to strip before ushering you into the steaming water. You hiss at the burn, but it’s the warmest you’ve been in weeks. Months, more-like. She scrubs your skin raw with rough fingers, and tears through your hair with the comb until your scalp stings. When you wince, Thera cracks her open palm against the back of your skull.

“Be still!” Your ears ring from the force of her blow. “This is an honor—a great privilege you have been afforded, though you are tainted and unworthy.” 

The laugh that bubbles from your chest is bitter. “This is not your pulpit, Truthspeaker, and I am not your sheep.” 

Thera paints the symbols for fertility and prosperity on your damp shoulders in perfumed oil before rubbing them into your skin. She combs the oil through your hair, too, braiding gold thread into it as she pins it up away from your face. As she is closing the bridal robe around your shoulders, the door flies open.

The priest practically falls through it, his face shining with sweat despite the temperature. The charcoal around his wide, fear-bright eyes runs dark on his pale skin, like dark tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks. His terror is catching, your own heart pounding against your ribs. 

“He comes! The Demon King comes! He rides for the village!” Thera glances at you, her thin lips curving into a cruel smile. 

“And his bride waits.”

—

You have seen a bride taken, once. You were young, six seasons, perhaps? Seven? You saw the Demon King ride away with her, her long, black veil whipping behind her in the icy wind.

Mother had told you not to go, not to watch—It’s barbaric, my love, we needn’t take part—but you couldn’t help yourself. She is lucky, she is blessed, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go. Chosen. She’d drawn the coin from the bag, the same pitted, pocked metal that the priest had forced into your trembling hands as you’d watched your mother burn.

Life for life.

The rope bites into your wrists as you tug uselessly at your bindings. Your breath leaves your lips in frantic clouds of white as you pull and pull. Your only victory is the creak of the rope as it tightens. Your teeth chatter as you stare into the fog. It rolls out between the trunks of the bare trees like tendrils, creeping along the snow-covered ground until it fills the air, obscuring light and sound until all around you is dim as twilight.

“Your bride awaits you,” the priest’s muffled voice trembles. “Take her and honor our agreement, as it has been, and as it shall be.”

For a long time there is no answer from the thick, swirling fog. You count each second, your aching arms stretched above you, the rough wood of the post digging into your back through your cloak. The cold eats away at your bones as you shiver. It’s not snowing any more, but the loose drift blows up into your face as the wind rips at you. The priest’s voice trembles as he begins again.

“Take her and honor our—”

“Silence.”

 The voice vibrates powerfully in your very marrow, in your head and all around. He is near. You can barely see a foot in front of you, and now you are glad for it, glad you cannot see the face of your death. The mist swells, roiling angrily around you as your skin prickles with his closeness. You know not what the Dark King looks like, but you know what you have heard murmured in the dark corners of ale-soaked taverns and in the pews of every chapel of the Holy Light—he is darkness, he is devil made flesh and set upon the children of light so that they might know fear. 

That the price of flesh paid by your people is all that keeps him from loosing his terrible fury upon the valley—

But you do not yet know you believe.

You are afraid, that much you can tell from the thundering of your heart and the staccato sound of your own breath. You cannot see him, but you know he circles you, like a wolf, just behind the curtain of smoke and mist. The silence is deafening, and for a moment you wonder grimly what the Truthspeakers will do with you if the Devil himself does not take you—

“I accept this offering.”

 He steps sideways out of nowhere, the air simply parting like a curtain to reveal him. The Orc regards you silently, watching your breath cloud the air and disappear. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls at the ropes. The priest knotted them tightly around the post, but when the Orc pulls lightly, it comes away easily, as if undone by his touch. 

His face is more human than you expected, fierce blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones. His tusks poke out from beneath his bottom lip, but only barely, more evident as he grimaces. You wonder if he is displeased with you, as he looks you over, and you flinch when he reaches out with one massive, gloved hand. He grasps your chin firmly, turning your head this way and that before sighing. 

“Come.” 

 This time, his voice does not echo through the clearing as if spoken by a dozen men. He reaches for you again, this time drawing the dark veil down over your face. His horse is as large and dark as he is, and the great beast paws the ground as you near, and you see your own fearful face reflected in its strange red eyes. He chuckles at your reluctance.

“Afraid, little bride?”

You are. Truly afraid. Of him. Of the village. Of the way forward, wherever it led. But you would not be like Thera, like the cowering priests in their chapel. Your fear would not rule you. 

You grasp the reins and fit a foot into the stirrup. 

“I am afraid.” Swinging your leg up, you climb into the saddle. “And I am more than fear.” He smiles, the sharp, white points of his teeth gleaming as his lips part.

“Good.” He steps up behind you, and your face flushes with heat as he fits you against his front. 

“What are you called?” He hesitates, and you wonder whether or not he will tell you the truth.

“James.”

—

The sun is low in the sky by the time you see the encampment, nestled in the dark, snowy hills like a glowing ember. You tense as you see it, going rigid in the saddle.

“I did not know you came to collect your bride price with an army.” You reply, and behind you James chuckles. 

“How else would I make sure it was paid?” 

You feel small and alone as you ride into camp, your veil still pulled low over your eyes. The sounds of music and conversation die as the king approaches, the garrison watching with curious apprehension. The pack parts for you, people stepping away from James’ horse with a respectful bow. He is King here, of that there could be no doubt. A great fire blazes at the heart off the encampment, and James rides close enough to feel its heat before dismounting. He holds out his hand to you with a thin smile. 

“Come, little wife. Lay aside your fear and let us know your fate.” You return his grim smile with one of your own. 

I suppose I always knew it would end in fire.

You take his hand, and James helps you down. For a moment, there is no sound other than the roar of the flames and the shrill whistle of the icy wind. 

“She is small.” The voice is heavy with age, and rife with irritation. “It will not be her.” You turn to see the stooped Orc step out from the crowd of onlookers. She leans heavily on the staff she carries, the top adorned with an assortment of feathers and tiny, white bones. James does not look away from you. 

“The fire will tell.” 

He pushes your bridal robe from your shoulders, undoing the tie around your waist. The cloth falls to the ground, leaving you naked. You are not cold, though, not this close to the fire. The veil he leaves on, and the fabric whispers against your bare ankles. The old Orc hobbles closer, peering at you with her one good eye. 

“You know what to do.” 

You do—you step into the fire. It burns—burns hotter than anything you have ever known—

But there is no pain. You open your eyes. All around you is light, beautiful, glorious light. You lift an arm, and flames dance along your skin, leaving trails of radiant heat. You raise your arms above your head with a shout. They should have burnt me in the village. You imagine the streets burning bright with your flames. 

Something is changed in you, something opened, something broken free, something you’d never even known was caged inside you. You are the fire, it is you—

The old Orc slams the staff against the ground with a sound like thunder,  and the flames cool to embers as you drop your arms, panting. You are giddy with power, your heart beating in your chest as fiercely as the flames. 

“Fire-sign.” She draws symbols on your face in red ichor, and matching ones on James. Her scarred mouth twists into a smile as she pulls the veil from you. “Burn brightly.”  

James gathers you in his arms, lifting you with ease. He makes for one of the tents, pushing aside the heavy canvas hanging over the opening. James spills you unceremoniously onto the furs by the small fire, ripping at his clothes as he sets upon you with his hungry hands and mouth.

“Knew it would be you,” he mumbles as he lowers his mouth to yours. “Could smell the smoke on your skin.” 

Gods you burn as he kisses you. You are no longer standing in the fire but you feel it in your veins still, like it’s part of you. Your head swims as though you’d drunk your share of mead, James’ touch only adding to the dizzying rush of sensation. He kneels down between your legs, his eyes dark as he drags them down your writhing body. He licks his lips.

“My fire-sign.” He cups your cunt with one massive hand, trailing a thick finger along your slit. From the bits of hushed gossip you’d overheard from the older women in the village, wifely duties were to be penitently endured, you were to feel pain and discomfort, not this, this—

Fire.

James parts your thighs until they are wide enough to accommodate him, and he bends low. The whites of his eyes barely visible as he stares at your slick center. 

“What better wedding gift?” He says lowly, tugging your hips roughly forward until you can feel his breath on your cunt. 

You lick your lips. “And what is mine?” You ask, and James laughs. You keen as he licks a long, hot stripe up your soaked slit. 

“What would you ask of me?”

“Burn the village.” There are two voices coming from your throat when you speak. There is you, the you you know, the you you have always been—

And there is the fire. 

The thing of smoke and passion and rage in your skin now, too. 

“Leave nothing standing.”

James lowers his head to your sticky core, and wraps his arms around your thighs anchoring you to his face as he feasts. His tongue slides hungrily through your slick folds, and your eyes fly open a your hips roll of their own accord. You come apart then, shuddering and whining, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling at his ceremonial braids as he tastes you till you’re dizzy. James finally relinquishes his hold, and when he rises his chin is wet with your pleasure. 

“You wish me to wage war, little wife?” He asks, reaching between your bodies to palm his cock. You can’t look away. “To spend fire and blood for you?”

You nod. 

“For that, I will require more than a marriage of convenience,” he replies, and you shiver as he taps the head of his cock against you with a slick, sticky noise. You whimper as he circles one of your nipples with his thumb. “I want more than just your body, understand, little bride?” His hand spans half the length of your belly it’s so big, and you stare wide eyed down at his cock. 

“I will have all of you.” James growls down at you. “Not part.” You whine as he pushes against you, the blunt head of his cock pressing inside with a pop.  Your lips fall open, a strangled moan escaping them. James’ claws dig into your hip, and he utters a curse. You’re already so full of him, you don’t know how more can fit, but James works his hips against yours, rutting shamelessly against you until you swear you’re choking on him. 

The ache is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes. 

“Y-yes!” 

He draws out, leaving you almost empty before filling you with a hard thrust. James moans low in his throat, his head falling back. He cups your face with one hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. You rake your fingers over his muscled chest and he grits his teeth, driving into you harder, curling over you as he presses your knees against your chest. 

Your breaths escape you in choked little mewls, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drowns you in pleasure again, and the fire in your veins swells, consuming you. Behind him, the fire blazes more brightly than ever before, and  James looses a low growl, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Then you will have war, little queen,” he says, nosing down the side of your jaw. He nips at your throat, hard enough to bruise.

You smile. 

[lives-in-midgard]

"Who's afraid of little old me?"

"You should be"

[i-like-superheros]

Love this parallel