#the bucky collection

[ailoda]

ᯓ★ bucky barnes

series

fluff

angst

smut

grumpy x sunshine

40s!au

mob!au

biker!au

ceo!au

[thevillainswhore]

“Good girl,” he mumbles, running his fingers through your hair while looking at you.

So We Meet Again

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A reunion between two old friends quickly turns heated.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, blowjob, mouth fucking, ball sucking, praise, pet names, cum eating.

Author’s Note: This is part of The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️ beta’d by the lovely @buck-star thank you my love 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics.

You didn’t know what to expect once your old friend opened the door to his cabin. It had been years — too many of them since you had last seen him and to say you were nervous was an understatement. 

The logs that had been carefully wound together to uphold the structure were beautifully cut, a deep mahogany that was rich in pigment. But you couldn’t help but quirk your lips at the beigeness of it all. 

A little splash of colour would do the trick. 

You had no time to internally decide what kind of palette you could imagine for the rustic cabin before the wooden door creaked open and a vaguely familiar face came into your view. 

“Bucky?” You gasped, the air knocked out of your lungs. “Is that—Is that really you?”

Far from the scrawny boy you had attended school with, your old friend stood before you transformed into a man. 

The stubble that graced his cheeks was new. The once long hair that he had chopped down into a short fluffy cut was also new. The muscle he had packed on that made the woolly coat he was wearing strain against his arms was definitely new.

All new territory that you had no idea what to do with. 

“Hey, Dolly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that pretty, little face.” 

Oh, the deep voice was a welcome surprise too. 

“I—” You didn’t know what to say, shell shocked by the sight in front of you. “You’ve gotten taller.” 

Bucky laughed abruptly. “Well, damn. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff of laughter for your own awkwardness. “What I meant to say was you look good.” 

Though a lot had changed since you last saw Bucky, one thing that had stayed the same was how bashful he got over the slightest compliments. 

Rubbing the back of his neck as a hue of red blossomed on his cheeks, he smiled. “You know how to make a man blush, don’t ya?” 

Just as you were about to reply, a gush of frosted wind made you stumble. Bucky shot his arms out and grabbed you before you could fall. “Shit, let’s get you inside before it gets nasty out there. Come on, you.” 

With his arms still keeping you balanced, Bucky brought you over the threshold and into the warmth of his home. He shut the door with his foot and continued to smooth his hands down your coat covered arms. 

“This place is beautiful, Buck. I can’t believe you made this by yourself,” you said in awe. 

“I’m glad you like it. You helped me design it after all.” 

You spun around with your mouth open. “You did not keep those sketches after all these years!” 

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder and slid his palms into his pockets. “I did. I neatened them up a little here and there when I got the planning permission. But I kept them.” He pointed towards the fireplace with his head, a fond smile curving his lips. “Look.” 

After tapping the excess snow off your boots on the doormat, you made your way towards the mantelpiece that hung above a roaring fire. Low and behold, there were the drawings the two of you had made together years ago in college. Ripped out of your notebook and framed. 

“You believed in me when not many people did.” Bucky’s voice was closer as he came up behind you. “You didn’t laugh when I told you I wanted to build my own company. It's because of you that people took interest in this house and now I get regular contracts to keep me steady.” 

Unexpected tears began to bubble to the surface. You couldn’t believe your old friend had kept something so sentimental and created something so beautiful out of it. Sniffling, you faced Bucky and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, Buck.” 

Instantly, his arms curled around you, holding you with just as much vigour. “I missed you more, Dolly.” 

The two of you kept huddled in your embrace for a while, savouring the feeling of each other after lost time. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up. You pulled back, though Bucky’s arms held firm around you. “Wait. Does this mean what I think it does?” 

Your excitment began to grow at the grin on your friend’s face. “Why don’t you go and find out?” 

With a squeal, you quickly toed off your boots — not wanting to dirty the cabin — and ran down the hallway. If Bucky hadn’t changed anything about the floor plan, you were sure to find what you were looking for. 

And to your delight, once you had ripped open the door, you found your most prized possession — the library. 

You spun around, unable to contain the emotion in your voice. “You really built it.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, sweetheart. I told you I would.” Bucky leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an unknown look in eye. 

“But—“ you tried to reason. 

Though Bucky quickly shook you down, already knowing what you were trying to say. “But nothing. You’re still my best friend no matter where in the world you are. No matter if we haven’t spoken in a while. This is for you, Dolly.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “It's beautiful, Bucky. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” By the earnest look in his eyes you knew he meant it too. 

After you had explored the house some more, Bucky had ushered you to the table to get some food down you. His concern for your wellbeing hadn’t changed at all since school. He was always mothering you, making sure you were taking care of yourself. 

It was like the two of you had never been apart. Conversation came easily over his homemade meal. Laughter bounced off the walls of his kitchen. It was easy to fall back into your friendship. 

But there was something else brewing that you couldn’t explain. An added supplement to your relationship. 

There were lingering looks over the candles scattered across the dining table. There were flirtations that made you squirm in your seat. 

If Bucky wasn’t your friend, you’d have thought that you were on a date. 

But Bucky was your friend. And every time your eyes caught each other and his hand brushed over yours, you found yourself thinking of him differently. 

Snow pelted harshly against the windows and you looked outside to find the storm predicted by the weather forecast was raging in full force. You wiped your mouth with a napkin and sighed. “That’s just going to be great to drive in.” 

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to you in aghast. “You’re not actually thinking about going out in that, are you?” 

“What other choice do I have? I’ve got to get to my hotel.” 

“Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head in finality. “You’ll stay here.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “I can’t just stay here, Bucky. This is your home!” 

You knew you sounded stupid, especially when he raised his eyebrow at you. “My home is your home. You’re not riskin’ your safety just to stay at some deadbeat motel where the doors don’t even lock. Not a chance.” 

Bucky’s reasoning was sound. The room you had booked was kind of cheap and you shivered when you thought of the possibilities why. But after a night filled with inexplicable tension, you found yourself still weighing the options.

Bucky must have seen the indecision in your features. The groan of his chair pushing out caught your attention and you had to bite your tongue when he crouched before you to hold your hand.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t go back out there tonight. Stay with me.” 

You would always argue it was his eyes that persuaded you. Bucky always had a way to make you give in to him with his steel blues. It was the same as college kids and you realised it was the same now. Only more dangerous. 

“Okay,” you whispered around a gulp. Squeezing his hand, you confirmed, “I’ll stay with you.” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Pulling you out your seat, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tight. He nuzzled his nose into your hair and let go of a deep breath. “That’s my girl.” 

Your body shouldn’t have reacted the way it did. You were just glad that Bucky was too enthralled in your hug to notice anything amiss. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and smoothed your clothes. “Let me help you put all this away.” 

Immediately, Bucky took the plate you were about to grab. “Not a chance, Dolly. Go sit down and wait until I’m finished and then I’ll show you to your room.” With his free hand, he patted your lower back, enough for his fingers to skim the top of your ass and shooed you away. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned, Bucky lifted you off the sofa with his hand and guided you towards the hallway where the bedrooms resided. You weren’t quite sure why you faltered upon the first step, but you tried to control your breathing enough to push yourself to keep walking. 

The night wasn’t what you expected when you decided to visit Bucky. Maybe it was silly to have any sort of expectations after so many years apart from your friend. 

However, this new element came at you with no time to prepare. 

Especially not when he let you lead so he could place his hand on the small of your back. Not when you felt the movement of it gliding further down to rest on the curve of your ass. And not when he grabbed your hand to pull you back once you surpassed the open door to his bedroom. 

“So—um—the guest room is just next to mine.” Bucky looked down at you with what you could only call desire in his irises. 

“I know,” you breathed airily. “I helped you design the layout, remember?”

Bucky swallowed. “I guess I’ll say goodnight then.” 

“That would be best.” Though you made no way to retract yourself from his proximity. 

“Goodnight, Dolly.” 

“Night, Bucky.” 

The air became stifling hot, even as the cold crept in from the open windows around the house. 

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Bucky slowly moved forward with what you supposed would be a friendly kiss on the cheek. You kept deathly still as his stubble scratched against your skin, even though a shudder clawed its way down your back. But your attempts were useless when his lips hovered a little too close to the corner of your mouth. 

Bucky let himself linger before he pulled back. Though he could only manage to draw himself away from you slightly, allowing the two of you to breathe each other’s air. His eyes were blown, like he’d taken a hit and his hand squeezed your waist like it was painful for him to move. 

Who made the next move would continue to be debated for years to come. What you could both agree on with certainty was the instant connection the two of you felt when your lips finally connected. How perfect the two of you intertwined your bodies in a dance of fiery passion.

The nagging voice that had tormented you throughout the night vanished and you finally let yourself go, losing yourself into Bucky. 

“Fuck,” he murmured around your kiss. “I’ve been wantin’ to taste those damn lips all night, Dolly.”

You tangled your fingers into his fluffy hair, pulling harshly as his hands sneaked up your shirt to feel your bare skin. “Then shut up and stop wasting your breath.” 

His responding growl sent a shot of electricity between your legs and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue against his to hear it again. 

The two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the hallway, unable to keep your hands off each other. It was as though Bucky was the oxygen you craved after being starved of air. You’d die if he let go of you. 

Bucky began to step back into his bedroom and the door crashed against the wall. You broke away when your feet recognised the soft carpet furnishing, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths together. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky whined while his chest heaved and his eyes were hooded in pure lust. 

Ignoring him, you dropped down onto your knees with a thud. His eyes shot open and you graced him with a sultry smile, licking your lips while you slid your palms up the denim covering his thick thighs.

“Oh, shit. You’re really gonna—”

You didn’t give him the time to finish his sentence. Adrenaline was sparking your momentum in that moment and any doubts about how fast you were moving were pushed out of your mind as soon as you tore his jeans and underwear down in one go.

Bucky’s heavy cock bounced out of its confines. He was all girth and length, a true testament to the rest of his bear-like physique. Although his dick was intimidating and you had to take at least a whole minute to stare at it in wonder, you got to work quickly.

There were no teasing licks, no hesitant strokes of your hand. You went all in, hollowing your cheeks while you began to feed yourself his cock. You held the base with one hand and slid your other further down towards his balls, beginning to massage them just as you felt the head of his length hit the back of your throat.

“Holy—D-Dolly, you gotta—fuck that’s so good—Slow down, baby. You’re g-gonna choke.”

Lifting your eyes to settle them on Bucky’s, you winked and hummed around him, watching in delight as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he chuckled before biting his bottom lip, beginning to gently meet the rhythm of your mouth with his own thrusts. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice, baby.”

Spit drooled from your mouth, pooling onto the hardwood floor, while your eyes began to water. Any decorum had gone out the window and all that was left in its place was raw, shameful mouth fucking. Bucky couldn’t keep his jaw shut as he towered above you, watching how his proportions bullied the tightness of your throat.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, running his fingers through your hair while looking down at you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Gettin’ all messy for me.”

His hands tightened their grip, tugging enough for a sharp pain to sting your scalp. But it only served to rile you up more. Letting his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, you reached further down to suck his balls. 

Bucky choked on his own spit at the sensation of your tongue flicking against the thin, delicate skin and the warm wetness your saliva provided him. “Sh-Shit, Dolly! Uh-huh, baby—Just like that.” 

Cradling the back of your head with one hand, Bucky used the other to hold his cock. He wanted to see the tears glistening over your waterline. You hummed as you made eye contact with him and the vibrations ran through his whole body and lit his nerves on fire. 

“That’s right, suck my fuckin’ balls. Look so pretty on your knees for me and your own damn spit covering your face.” With a grunt, Bucky pulled back, almost regretting leaving your hot mouth, and grabbed your chin, spitting on your awaiting tongue and shoving his dick back down your throat before you could blink. “Show me how much you missed me, baby.” 

Your body was like a live wire, sparks shocking your nerves and leaving you pent up and on edge. The pure animal had come out of your best friend — a side to him you had never had the pleasure of seeing before — and it only made you crave your own stimulation. 

Your jaw ached and your throat cinched in pain every time the fat tip of Bucky’s cock hit the back of it. But none of that mattered when you watched the harmony of pleasure across his face. How he looked at you like you were an angel on your knees, serving your god. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and pulled him out of your mouth. “Paint my tongue, Bucky.” There was a hoarse rasp to your voice but you swallowed and began pumping his length. “I wanna know what you taste like.” 

Bucky’s eyes gained a new gleam, one that frightened and excited you. 

“Fuck my life. What the fuck have we been doin’ all this time?” Grabbing the length of your hair and twisting it around his hand, he pulled, forcing you eye to eye with his crotch. “Come here, Dolly. Lemme feed you my load if you wan’ it so damn bad.”

Bucky fed you his cock and widened the stance of his legs, his free hand framed your chin — smothered in a combination of saliva and pre cum — and began to thrust. 

Spit flew out of your mouth, each squelch and gag leaving no room for anything but Bucky’s thick length to take ownership of you. Your cries fell on deaf ears as Bucky became a man possessed. 

“Gonna take it, sweetheart? Gonna swallow my cum and fill up your tummy?” 

You nodded as best as you could, moaning around his girth and trying to convey with your eyes how badly you wanted him to use you. 

Bucky licked his lips, panting viciously. “You’re mine now, Dolly. Do you understand?” 

When you didn’t answer, too drunk off his cock, he harshly tapped your protruding cheek. “Answer me, sweetheart. Do you fuckin’ understand?” 

You gargled around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screamed your muffled agreement. 

Bucky swiped his tongue across his teeth and grinned. “Good. Cos’ I ain’t letting you go.” 

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs, trying to steady yourself from the cruel thrusts. Bucky began to grind his cock down your throat, leaving you depleted of oxygen and struggling to form a single coherent thought. 

“‘M gonna cum, baby. C-Can’t hold it any longer.” Bucky’s legs started to shake with his impending orgasm, his words slurring the closer to his end he got. 

So with a sudden bout of eagerness, you slid your hands around to his ass, gripped each cheek and pulled him impossibly further down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. 

Bucky didn’t even have a chance to warn you before his cock began to pulse, not a second later shooting pearls of thick, white cum from his tip to coat your tongue. 

“D-Dolly—baby—I can’t. F-Fuck, I’m cummin’ so much. All this fuckin’ cum for you, sweetheart—” he rambled. Stumbling over his own words until his dick finally began to settle and his load had all been released. 

You struggled to hold the vast amount of cum in your mouth, some of it sneaking out from the corner of your lip and joining your tears as they rolled down your chin. Your bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red speckled veins looked up to Bucky, watching the pure elation on his face while his fingers started to carefully unfurl from your hair. 

Slowly, once Bucky’s length began to soften, he retracted his hips, letting his cock fall from your mouth. His thumb rested on the dimple of your chin, rubbing back and forth as he caught his breath, a new hunger in his eyes. “You still got my load in that pretty little mouth, baby?” 

Tightening your lips, you nodded, chest heaving and nostrils flaring with an adrenaline that hadn’t been sated. 

Bucky smirked wolf-like and kneeled down on one knee to match your height. “Wanna show me?” 

Caught up in the boundaries the two of you had surpassed, that threatened to untangle the very purpose of your being, you held your friend’s eye and leisurely stuck your tongue out. White cream, thick and musty, balanced on your tongue, exposed and vulnerable. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened and you barely had time to anticipate his intentions before he threw himself forward and kissed you. 

You squealed, panic surging through your limbs and stiffening your body. But Bucky grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto his lap, manipulating your legs to wrap around him. 

The shock of him tasting his own cum left you paralysed, unable to reciprocate his kiss properly. However, the deep groan that rumbled from his chest at the motion of your tongues colliding and his load falling onto his own kick started your body. You kissed him back with reverence, a fire rekindling in your lower stomach. 

Your faces were a mess of spit and cum, though the two of you were more concentrated on each other, content in getting lost in the new development of your relationship. 

The kiss eventually died down, Bucky leaving a couple of intricate, slow pecks to your lips before seperating. He kept close, noses teasing each other while you caught your breath. 

Tenderly, he swiped the gooey liquid lingering around your mouth with his thumb and tapped your cupid's bow twice, a plea to open up. You complied, allowing him to enter and you were quick to enclose your lips around him and suck. 

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, watching you with wide eyes. “You’re such a good girl for me.” 

Before you could reply, he lifted the two of you up with ease, keeping a firm grip around your midriff, and laid you down on his bed. 

“Let me see what else you’ll do for me, Dolly.” Bucky’s eyes bore into your own gaped ones, still trying to wrap your head around the events of the night. “Please.” 

There was no other answer. Not when he caged you with his thick arms and not when he delicately trailed his nose along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Okay, Bucky.” 

You couldn’t have imagined where that night could have taken you. Nor could you have conjured up how the hell the two of you ended up fucking until the early hours, singing songs of praise to each other and experiencing a pleasure that you thought would forever be a myth. 

And when you awoke in the morning, scared and worried of the consequences of your actions, you were sure you would regret it. 

But as Bucky tore your clothes off, pouring his adoration and devotion into every crevice of your body with more skin that was revealed as your heart beat as one, you couldn’t even try to muster up any feelings of remorse or anguish. 

You just wanted your best friend to fuck you until the sun came up. 

[buckets-and-trees]

No Way Out

Characters/Pairings: mean Alpha!Bucky x curvy Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 5.9k Summary: Your first time witnessing a council meeting under Bucky's new regime. He sends a clear message about how things will go. (not a stand-alone read)

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; manipulation; threats; semi-violent murder; explicit smut: exhibitionism, cock-warming, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, oral (female receiving), cum appreciation; beefy Bucky (is a warning)

Author Notes: Been a few months since the last part, but I couldn't let Alpha April pass without tossing you back into this verse and its cruel White Wolf now, could I?

Previous: Entanglement | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The massive doors to the council chamber swing open, and all eyes turn to you and Bucky as you enter. The room falls silent, the previous murmurs of conversation dying instantly. The council chamber is imposing with its high vaulted ceilings, ornate woodwork, and a large oval table dominating the center. Around it sit two dozen men and women.

You recognize most of the faces - regional leaders, mayors, the city council for the capital, military leaders, heads of major industries, and a few of your father's most trusted advisors. Some were loyal to your father, others were known opportunists, and a few are new faces - Bucky's people, no doubt. Their expressions range from surprise to curiosity to barely concealed hostility as they take in your presence. 

Bucky's hand remains firmly at the small of your back as he guides you toward the head of the table. There are two chairs there - one slightly larger than the other. The symbolism isn't lost on you or anyone else in the room.

At Bucky’s side, you keep your head high and shoulders squared despite the scrutiny of those assembled. The tension in the room is palpable as Bucky pulls out your chair first. The gesture appears courteous, but you understand it for what it is - a display, establishing your position as his omega while simultaneously marking you as subordinate.

"As some of you may have heard," Bucky begins without preamble once you're both seated, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber, "my omega and I have completed our bonding ritual. She will be joining our council meetings as an observer for the foreseeable future." 

Murmurs ripple through the assembled council members. You catch snippets of whispered conversations - "didn't waste any time," "strategic alliance," "what does this mean for us?" - before Bucky silences them with a sharp look. 

"I expect her to be afforded every courtesy befitting her station," he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. "She knows this territory and its people. Her insights will be valuable as we move forward with our integration plans."

You notice several council members exchange glances. You keep your face schooled in a stoic expression. You are navigating this dynamic and figuring out exactly what the extent of your position - or your station as he put it - really will be. You suspect you are both tool and asset, a prop and a resource. 

Bucky begins the meeting with a territorial status report. Various council members deliver updates on security, resources, infrastructure, and economic matters. You listen intently, mentally clock which council members that are new representation seem competent and which ones appear to be merely parroting what they believe Bucky wants to hear. Among all - old and new - you note which ones seem genuinely concerned about their people's welfare and which ones are merely posturing. You're familiar with most of their districts, having visited them with your father during his governance tours.

Throughout it all, you're acutely aware of Bucky beside you. His presence is commanding, his attention laser-focused on each speaker. When he asks questions, they're precise and probing, revealing a depth of understanding about territorial governance that surprises you. You'd expected a warlord with brute force, not this strategic mind that seems to grasp the complexities of civil administration.

"The agricultural sector in the western region is still underperforming," reports a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses. "There’s been a notable decline the last two years, but there’s a marked different in production since you came to power - numbers are down fifteen percent from the same month last year."

"Causes?" Bucky asks sharply.

"We believe it's a combination of factors. We have reports of labor shortages, continued drought conditions, and equipment failures," the man replies. "Additionally, there is some resistance from local farmers to the deliver on the quotas," the man explains, shuffling through his papers nervously.

You notice how he carefully avoids mentioning that the "resistance" is likely passive protest against Bucky's regime. The western region had been particularly loyal to your father. 

Bucky's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "And what solutions are you proposing?" 

"We've increased water rations for irrigation and implemented penalties for farms that don't meet their quotas. We’re sourcing new equipment in some cases. We're also bringing in workers from the northern territories to address the labor shortages."

You feel a flare of indignation. The western farmers are already struggling, and penalties will only worsen their situation. Before you can think better of it, you shift slightly in your seat. Bucky notices immediately, his eyes flicking to you before returning to the council member.

"And how are these northern workers being compensated?" Bucky asks. "Are they being given fair wages and adequate housing?" 

The thin man shifts uncomfortably. "They're being provided with basic accommodations and standard compensation packages for migrant workers." 

You recognize the euphemism for what it is - exploitation. Your father had worked hard to eliminate such practices. 

Bucky leans forward slightly. "Adjust the compensation to match local rates and ensure proper housing. We need those workers content, not brewing resentment. And the equipment - I want a detailed inventory by the end of the week of what's needed." 

The man nods quickly, clearly surprised by the directive. 

"As for the quotas," Bucky continues, "I want them reassessed based on current conditions. Punishing farmers for factors beyond their control is counterproductive." 

The meeting continues with reports from other regions. Throughout it all, you mentally catalog the information, noting discrepancies between what's being reported and what you know of these areas. You're particularly concerned about the reports from the eastern mining communities where production is supposedly up, but there's no mention of the respiratory ailments that historically plague those workers without proper safety protocols. 

When the discussion turns to security matters, the atmosphere in the room shifts noticeably. Rumlow steps forward from his position near the wall where the STRIKE team members stand at attention. 

"We've neutralized three resistance cells in the past week," he reports with cold efficiency. "Seventeen arrests, five casualties during apprehension. Intelligence suggests two more cells operating in the southern district." 

Your stomach clenches at the casual way he mentions the deaths. You wonder who these "resistance fighters" were - ordinary citizens pushed to desperate measures, or truly violent insurgents. Under your father's rule, public protests had been permitted within reasonable boundaries. Now, any dissent is labeled as terrorism.

"Details on the casualties?" Bucky asks, his voice neutral.

"Three armed combatants, two collateral during a firefight in a market square," Rumlow responds without hesitation.

You feel a chill run through you. Civilians. Dead in a market square. You keep your face carefully blank, but inside, your mind races with images of the bustling southern market you've visited many times.

"Interrogations?" Bucky asks. 

"Ongoing," Rumlow replies with a slight smirk that makes your skin crawl. "We've extracted some useful information already. Names, safe houses, potential targets." 

"And the southern district cells?" 

"We're tracking them. Should have locations within 48 hours." 

"I want the weapons traced," Bucky orders. "And I want to know who's coordinating these cells. They're too organized to be operating independently."

"Yes, sir. We're pursuing several leads."

Bucky nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. And remember our approach - surgical precision. Civilian casualties undermine our objectives." 

You feel a flicker of surprise at his words. It's not the ruthless response you expected. 

"Sir," Rumlow acknowledges, though you detect a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

As the meeting progresses, you notice several council members glancing at you perhaps wondering where your sympathies lie. You keep your expression carefully neutral, though inside your thoughts race. 

The Mayor of Oakridge reports on about infrastructure concerns in his district, Bucky shifts slightly in his seat beside you. His large hand slides onto your thigh under the table, the heat of his palm burning through your skirt.

Keeping your expression neutral despite the unexpected touch, you continue to focus on the presentation. But then Bucky leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come sit on my lap," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "I want you warming my cock while we finish this meeting."

Your body goes rigid, eyes widening at his words. You turn your head slightly, certain you must have misheard him. But his expression is deadly serious, his eyes dark with expectation. There's no hint of teasing or arrogance in his face—just the clear command of an alpha who expects to be obeyed without hesitation.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you glance around the table. At least eight more representatives still need to speak. 

His fingers tighten on your thigh, not painfully but with unmistakable dominance. “Omega,” he growls quietly.

You feel heat flood your cheeks, there is no room for argument. The expectation in his eyes is clear—this is a test of your obedience, perhaps even a reminder of your place after he granted you the concession of attending this meeting.

With your heart in your throat, you slide from your chair as gracefully as possible. All conversation stops as you stand, and every eye in the room turns to you. The silence is deafening as you move to Bucky's chair. He pushes back slightly from the table, making room for you on his lap. 

You perch sideways across his thighs, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the humiliating position. Your movements draws many curious glances, but enough of the men and women around the room remain focused on the mayor's report. Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, smoothing your skirt in a futile attempt to prepare for what's to come.

Bucky pushes his chair back slightly from the table, creating just enough space for you to take the place he wants. His attention remains focused on the report while also monitoring your actions. 

You glance down at his lap uncertainly, and Bucky gives you a subtle nod of confirmation. His eyes flick down to his groin then back up to the speaker who continues explaining their infrastructure needs. With trembling fingers, you reach for his zipper, carefully sliding it down to avoid making noise. The sound seems deafening to your ears, but the council meeting continues around you as if nothing unusual is happening.

His cock springs free, already mostly hard. You wrap your hand around his impressive girth, giving it two slow strokes, feeling it stiffen further in your palm. Bucky's breath hitches almost imperceptibly, the only indication that he's affected by your touch.

Moving with as much grace as you can, you shift to stand between his legs and the table. Your hands reach for the hem of your skirt, and Bucky assists, pushing the fabric higher up your thighs. In one swift motion, he hooks his fingers into your panties and tugs them down. You step out of them, and he pockets the delicate fabric.

With his cock fully erect between you, Bucky guides you as you carefully lower yourself onto his lap, feeling the blunt head of his erection press against your entrance. Despite the anxiety of your situation, the humiliation of it, your body responds to his touch, and you're still wet enough from when he played with you in the car that he slides in with minimal resistance. You bite your lip to suppress a gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you around his considerable girth.

Bucky's large hands grip your hips, adjusting your position. Then one large hand smoothes up your spine, and he guides you forward until you're leaning against the edge of the table, your forearms resting on its polished surface. The position forces you to bend at the waist, allowing him to see over you to the council members continuing their reports.

Which is when you register that the room finally has become silent, and all eyes are on the tw of you coupled together. 

"Continue with your report, Mayor Harrison," Bucky says, his voice remarkably steady despite being buried deep inside you. 

"The southeastern bridge requires immediate structural reinforcement," the mayor continues, his voice strained as he determinedly stares at his papers. "We estimate costs at approximately—"

The tension in the room is palpable as you sit impaled on Bucky's cock, trying desperately to maintain your composure. The council members' expressions range from shock to discomfort to poorly concealed fascination. Some avert their eyes, focusing intently on their notes or the table before them. Others stare openly, either unable to look away or deliberately watching to gauge your reaction.

Shame burns through you, but so does desire, both hot and consuming. This public display goes beyond anything you could have anticipated. It's a clear power move by Bucky - demonstrating his complete dominance over you while simultaneously establishing his authority over the council. The message is unmistakable: he can do whatever he wants, to whomever he wants, whenever he wants.

Your muscles clench involuntarily around Bucky's thick length as humiliation and unwanted arousal battle within you. Part of you wants to disappear, to melt into the floor, but there's nowhere to hide.

And there’s an undercurrent of something else there inside you, too. 

As the next dignitary begins his report, you begin to grapple with the dark, primal thrill that’s also coursing through your veins—the same electricity you felt when Bucky first claimed you in the town square after seizing power. You remember the hot shame that had flooded you then, but also the unexpected thrill of being the focal point of his dominance, the object of his desire amidst his conquest.

Then again at your bonding ceremony, when he'd claimed you before the assembled dignitaries, his mouth hot on yours, his hands possessive and demanding as he marked you publicly as his. You'd felt it then too - that forbidden pleasure in being displayed as his prize, his most valuable possession.

Then again at your bonding ceremony, when he'd claimed you before the assembled dignitaries, his mouth hot on yours, his hands possessive and demanding as he marked you publicly as his. You'd felt it then too - that forbidden pleasure in being displayed as his prize, his most valuable possession.

And now, as you sit impaled on his cock, the power dynamics are undeniable: you, the conquered omega, servicing your alpha while he conducts business as though you're simply an extension of his throne.

The meeting continues, your body responding to every subtle shift of Bucky's beneath you. You manage to maintain an outward appearance of composure, though inside you're a storm of conflicting emotions. Occasionally, Bucky's hand move to your hip, adjusting your position slightly when you begin to tremble.

Finally, as the last council member concludes their report, Bucky speaks up, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber. 

"That will be all for today's general council," he announces, his tone brooking no argument. His hand squeezes your hip firmly. "Except for..." His finger points to several faces around the table. "Martinez, Davis, Williams, Campbell, Richards, Cho, Price, Jackson, and Franklin. The rest of you are dismissed."

There's a moment of confusion as those not named gather their materials and leave, casting curious glances at those who remain. The door closes with a heavy thud, leaving you, Bucky, and the nine named council members alone in the suddenly silent chamber. 

The tension thickens as the remaining council members exchange nervous glances. You recognize each face - Martinez from Trade, Davis who managed Military Resources, Williams from the Eastern District, Campbell who oversees Transportation, Richards from the Treasury, Dr. Cho from Health Services, Price from the Southern District, Jackson from Energy, and Franklin from Communications. A perfect cross-section of your father's government.

Bucky's hand slides up your back, firm and possessive, until it reaches your neck. His fingers wrap around the nape, not squeezing but holding you in place as he addresses the room.

"I imagine you're wondering why you're still here," Bucky says, his tone conversational despite the tension thrumming through the room. His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip as he speaks.

"You nine share something in common," Bucky continues, his voice eerily calm. "Each of you provided information, access, or assistance that made my takeover of this territory possible." 

A wave of horrified realization washes over the faces of those assembled. Some pale visibly, while others shift uncomfortably in their seats. You feel a cold shock run through your body as you process his words. These nine people—trusted advisors and officials—had betrayed your father, betrayed their territory... betrayed you. 

"Some of you acted independently," Bucky explains, his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin. "Others coordinated. But all of you decided that your personal gain outweighed your loyalty." 

Your body is rigidly tense as the implications sink in. These were people your father trusted enough with pieces of his territory, with governing his people, stewards you had worked alongside. People who had smiled to your face while secretly undermining everything your family had built. These nine people—respected officials you've known for years—had helped Bucky overthrow your father's government. Had delivered you into his hands.

"Sit up straight, Omega," Bucky commands, his voice in the quiet chamber.

You comply immediately, straightening your spine while remaining impaled on his cock. The movement causes him to shift inside you, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

"I want to thank each of you," Bucky says, his voice deceptively pleasant. "Your assistance made my conquest considerably easier." 

The council members shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances. Some look relieved at what sounds like gratitude, others more wary. None of them will look at you. 

"That said," Bucky continues, his tone hardening, "your actions demonstrated something troubling about your character."

Martinez starts to speak. "Sir, I assure you our loyalty—"

"Is for sale," Bucky interrupts. "You betrayed the man who trusted you with power and position. You betrayed his daughter," his hand squeezes your hip for emphasis, "to me. While I benefited from your treachery, I'm not foolish enough to trust traitors."

A cold silence falls over the room. You can see the realization dawning on their faces as they begin to understand this isn't a meeting of appreciation. 

"So I've arranged this little demonstration," Bucky says, his hand sliding up to grip one of your breasts over your clothing, and your breath hitches. 

"I'm going to fuck my omega now," Bucky announces, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Right here, in front of all of you who thought it clever to betray her father and deliver her to me."

A collective intake of breath fills the room. Several council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, still unable to meet your gaze.

Bucky’s metal hand slides up from your breast to cup your jaw, turning your face toward his. His eyes lock with yours, something unreadable in their depths before he turns back to address the council.

"I want you all to see exactly what you've done – who you've betrayed and to whom."

Bucky simultaneously stands while manhandling you easily with his preternatural strength, pressing your torso flat against the table in front of him. He withdraws his cock, then thrusts slowly back in. Once, twice, groaning on the third thrust that he draws out even more slowly. 

Your body betrays you, growing wetter around his cock as the reality of being displayed like this — being used as an omega in the most traditional, primal sense — awakens something you've tried to deny. The sheer audacity of it, the public nature, the way every person in this room now understands exactly who owns you — it's horrifying and intoxicating all at once.

You did like it before - both times - and you like it now. 

"I want no misunderstandings about who holds power here," Bucky says, establishing a steady rhythm as he moves you on his length. "No confusion about my control."

Your cheeks burn with humiliation as fucks you, but your body ripples with pleasure. The fabric of your skirt bunches around your waist as Bucky's hands grip your hips firmly.

Bucky's thrusts grow more forceful, the table unforgiving beneath your splayed body. Your fingernails clutch at the polished wood as you try to anchor yourself. The shame burns through you, but so does the pleasure, both sensations intensifying each other until you can barely distinguish between them.

You can feel the attention in the room on you as Bucky's pace increases. The council members' expressions range from horrified fascination to shamefaced avoidance. Some stare at the table, others at the ceiling, but they can't fully escape the sounds of skin against skin, the wet noises of Bucky's cock moving inside you.

Bucky grips your shoulder and pulls you back against his chest, one arm wraps possessively around your waist while the other goes to your throat. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks. "Look at them," Bucky commands, his voice a low growl at your ear before his hot tongue licks at the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe. "Look at the people who sold you out." 

You force your eyes back open, meeting the gaze of each council member in turn. Some look away immediately, unable to bear your scrutiny. Others meet your eyes briefly before dropping their gaze in shame. Only Price from the Southern District holds your gaze, a defiant tilt to his chin despite the obvious discomfort in his expression.

"You all thought yourselves so clever," he remarks, his pace unrelenting as his cock fills you over and over. "Trading information for promises of power, for guarantees of safety. Did any of you stop to consider her fate? The woman who would have been your leader one day?"

Martinez shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "We were assured no harm would—"

"Silence,” he has no need to shout. His power in this room is absolute. 

"Did you think I wouldn't remember?" Bucky continues, pumping in and out of your cunt. "That I would be foolish enough to forget exactly who played what role in betraying their territory?" His voice drops lower, more menacing. "In betraying my omega?"

His words send a shock through your system. My omega. Not just the territory's former heir apparent or the governor's daughter, but his omega—as though your betrayal personally offended him, as though you had belonged to him even before he conquered your lands.

"What you fail to understand is the gravity of your betrayal." His voice drops lower, more menacing. "This isn't just any omega you handed over to me. This is my omega."

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver through you. There's something different in the way he's speaking now, something that wasn't there before.

"You thought you were simply delivering a territory, offering up a political pawn," Bucky remarks. "But once I set my sites on her, she was going to be mine.”

His hand tightens your throat, not squeezing but holding you firmly against him as he speaks. Your own hands move up instinctively to cling to his bicep, encouraging his ownership. "I would have conquered this territory regardless. Your assistance merely hastened the inevitable.”

His voice drops to a dangerous whisper that somehow carries throughout the silent chamber.

"Let me be absolutely clear," he says, his rhythm never faltering as he continues to fuck you. "Your lives mean nothing to me compared to hers."

The declaration hangs in the air, shocking even you. The council members' faces drain of color as the implication sinks in.

"I may allow you to maintain your positions while you remain useful," Bucky continues, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. "But make no mistake—your continued existence is not guaranteed."

His words send a ripple of fear through the assembled council members. You can see it in their faces—the irrefutable comprehension that their calculated betrayal has placed them in a far more precarious position than they anticipated.

His pace increases, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he nears his climax. You're helpless to stop the pleasure building within you, your body responding instinctively to your alpha's dominant display.

"Can you smell how wet she is," Bucky growls in your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. "How her body knows exactly who she belongs to? Claimed and bonded not once, but twice."

You whimper at his words, the humiliation of having your display warring with the undeniable pleasure coursing through your body, the forbidden thrill in being watched, and the satisfaction in their own fear. Your inner walls clench around him involuntarily, drawing a satisfied groan from his lips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Bucky buries himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he finds his release. You feel the hot pulse of his seed filling you, marking you from the inside in this most primal display of ownership. Your body trembles on the edge of your own climax.

Bucky's hand slides from your throat to grip your jaw, turning your face to the side so he can claim your mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, dominant and possessive, as his hips pump more slowly, emptying every last drop of his seed into you. 

When he breaks the kiss, he addresses the council once more. "Consider this your final warning. Your only value to me is your continued competence in service to this territory. Fail in that, or show even a hint of further disloyalty, and you will find an untimely end of service.”

Bucky withdraws his cock from your cunt, and you whimper, distraught at being denied your own release. 

"You're all dismissed," he says coolly. "Except for you, Price. You stay."

The council members scramble to gather their materials, eager to escape the tension-filled chamber. They all avoid looking at you as they file out.

Price remains seated, his face a mask of defiance despite a flicker of fear evident in his eyes. He was always one of your father's more outspoken critics, often challenging policies in council meetings. 

"You seem to have something to say," Bucky remarks, his pace slowing but not stopping as he addresses the man. "I saw it throughout the entirety of our meeting.”

Bucky takes a seat again and pulls you back into his lap. He pushes your thighs wide, encouraging your legs to fall on either side of his knees, leaving you open to him. 

Bucky's fingers slide between your folds, still slick with his release, and begin to circle your swollen clit with deliberate, measured strokes. His ministrations send jolts of pleasure through your oversensitized body, causing your hips to buck involuntarily against his touch. 

“Get on with it, Price."

Price's jaw tightens, his eyes darting between Bucky's face and his hand working between your thighs. He straightens his shoulders and meets Bucky's gaze with a cool stare of his own.

"I've been loyal to this territory for twenty years," Price says, his voice steady despite the charged atmosphere. "I supported your takeover because the former Governor’s policies were weakening our defenses and economy. The southern district suffered most under his leadership." 

Bucky's fingers continue their relentless attention between your thighs as he listens, making it difficult for you to focus on Price's words, but you work to concentrate. Your breathing becomes more ragged as pleasure builds within you.

"Is that so?" Bucky asks, his tone deceptively casual - you feel the display through your bond. "And your solution was betrayal rather than advocating for change through proper channels?"

Price's eyes flicker to your cunt momentarily before returning to Bucky. "The proper channels were closed to us. The southern district's petitions were repeatedly ignored." 

You want to protest, to defend your father's administration, but a particularly skilled movement of Bucky's fingers sends a particularly strong wave of increased pleasure through your core. 

"And yet," Bucky responds, his voice hardening, "my intelligence indicates you never filed a single formal petition with the governor's office. Not one in the past five years." 

Price's face pales slightly, but he maintains his composure. "That's not true. I personally delivered multiple petitions—" 

"Save it," Bucky cuts him off, his fingers still working between your thighs. "I have copies of every petition filed in the last decade. Your name isn't on any of them." 

Your breath catches, not just from the pleasure building between your legs, but from the realization of how thoroughly Bucky had studied your territory before he ever set foot in it. He'd known the inner workings, the political alliances, the weaknesses to exploit. He'd been gathering intelligence for years, not months. 

Price's expression shifts, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he regains his composure and defiance. "There were unofficial channels—"

"Rumlowe," Bucky calls out calmly, not taking his eyes off Price. The STRIKE team leader steps forward from his position near the wall, his expression impassive. "Show Price what happens to those who lie to my face."

Price's eyes widen in alarm as Rumlowe approaches, drawing a wicked-looking combat knife from his tactical vest. "Wait—you can't—"

In one swift, practiced motion, Rumlowe is behind Price's chair, the blade pressed against the man's throat. Price's hands grip the armrests, his knuckles white with terror.

"Tell me the truth, Price," Bucky says, his voice dangerously quiet. "One last chance."

Price's eyes dart frantically around the room, searching for mercy he won't find. "I... there were no petitions," he admits, voice shaking. "The southern district was actually thriving, but I wanted more power, more—" 

Bucky gives a nearly imperceptible nod. 

The blade slices cleanly across his throat, blood immediately spurting forward in a crimson arc. A choked gurgle escapes his lips as his hands fly up instinctively to the gaping wound, but it's already too late.

You gasp in horror, your body involuntarily tensing, but Bucky's fingers only increase their pressure against your clit, circling faster as his other arm locks around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

"Eyes on me, Omega," Bucky growls in your ear, his voice low and commanding. "Focus on what I'm giving you."

Your gaze snaps to his, unable to disobey. 

Your eyes locked with his, you only hear as Rumlow and another STRIKE member drag Price's limp body across the polished floor of the chamber. Bucky's fingers never stop their relentless attention on your clit, the horror of what you've just witnessed somehow intensifying the sensations coursing through your body. Your hips buck involuntarily against his hand as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak. 

"That's it," he growls, his voice dark with satisfaction. "Let go for me." 

The orgasm hits you with devastating force, tearing a cry from your throat as waves of pleasure crash through you. Your body convulses in Bucky's firm grip, inner walls clenching desperately around nothing as your body shudders with aftershocks, your mind caught in a haze between pleasure and horror.

As your breathing begins to steady, Bucky lifts you from his lap with ease, handling your body as if you weigh nothing. He turns you to face him, then guides you to sit on the edge of the polished council table. His hands remain on your hips as he positions himself between your spread thighs, the evidence of your coupling still glistening on your inner thighs. 

With deliberate slowness, he places one hand on your sternum and pushes you backward until you're lying flat on the cool surface. The position leaves you vulnerable, exposed, as you stare up at the ornate ceiling of the chamber where your father once governed. 

Bucky looms over you, his powerful frame blocking out the light, casting his face in shadow. His eyes, however, remain piercingly bright . 

"I hope you understand your position now," Bucky says, his voice low and resonant as he traces a finger along your inner thigh, collecting the mixture of your fluids. "And the true nature of this new regime."

His words hang in the air between you, weighted with significance. This isn't just about your body or your pleasure—it's about power, control, and the new order he's establishing. It’s cruel, yet measured as you saw him handle the formal meeting with the full council with unquestionable competence. 

He moves back, settling into his chair once more, but instead of pulling you onto his lap again, he lowers himself until his face is level with your exposed cunt. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your combined spend glistening on your folds and thighs. 

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver despite yourself. 

Without warning, he leans forward and puts his mouth to your cunt, his tongue laving a broad stripe through your folds, gathering your combined release. The sensation is so unexpected and intense that your back arches off the table, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, precise flicks against your oversensitive clit. 

"Mine," he growls against your flesh, the vibration sending shivers through your core. "Every part of you belongs to me now." 

Your hands clutch at the edge of the table, desperate for purchase as he methodically takes you apart with his mouth. The room that just witnessed a cold-blooded execution now bears witness to an intimate moment. The dichotomy is jarring – death and pleasure, power and submission, all converging in this chamber that once represented order and governance.

Bucky's tongue works relentlessly between your thighs, his hands spreading you wider as he feasts on you. Your second climax builds faster than the first, your body still sensitive from his earlier attention. When it crashes over you, it's more intense, more consuming. You cry out, unable to hold back as your thighs tremble around Bucky's head. He doesn't relent, working you through the waves of pleasure until you're gasping and squirming from overstimulation.

Only then does he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he rises to his full height. His eyes, dark with satisfaction and something deeper, more possessive, roam over your disheveled form sprawled across the council table.

"That's what loyalty to me earns," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Pleasure. Protection. Power. You will do well not to forget it, Omega.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you breathe. 

He helps you sit up, his hands surprisingly gentle as he adjusts your clothing, smoothing down your skirt and tucking stray hairs behind your ear. The tenderness is jarring after the brutality you've just witnessed, the public claiming, the execution. You're still trembling, your mind reeling as you try to reconcile the different facets of the man before you. 

"Come," he says, offering his hand to help you off the table. "We have other matters to attend to." 

You place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Your legs feel unsteady, and he seems to sense this, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. The room still smells of copper and sex, a potent reminder of power asserted and lives ended. 

As you walk toward the door, you notice the blood has already been cleaned from the floor, no trace of Price remaining. The efficiency is chilling - as if he never existed at all.

You can’t help but wonder what else will be wiped away, wiped out, just as that dissenter and liar was today. 

more to come...

There's more story for you and Alpha!Bucky, but I'm desperately excited because this is the final piece that I wanted to share for this verse before introducing you to other alphas in the world of Fine Line. You're not ready. 😏

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[elixirfromthestars]

In The Name of Love & Law | Collection

This collection follows the love story between Detective Bucky Barnes and you, one of the most notorious prosecutors in New York, working alongside the detectives of the Brooklyn homicide precinct. In the midst of navigating the chaos of your jobs, you also have to navigate the growing feelings between you and Bucky that seem to be going nowhere no matter how hard you try to ignore them...

series moodboard 💼⚖️🎡

──── ݁₊ ⚖️ .📜 ݁˖ . ݁ ────

Before the Main Story

Field Work

You end up getting hurt while out in the field questioning a suspect. Thankfully, Detective Barnes is there to help. 

Caged In

Coming Soon...

──── ݁₊ ⚖️ .📜 ݁˖ . ݁ ────

The Main Story

Conflict of Interest

After the many failed dates Natasha set you up on, you decide to give up on the dating scene all together. That is until Bucky makes it his mission to change your mind, but will he be enough to change it?

Conflict of Interest II

After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

──── ݁₊ ⚖️ .📜 ݁˖ . ݁ ────

After the Main Story

Detective!Bucky Barnes as a Girl Dad 🧸ྀི‎♡‧₊˚

[lunamarvels]

These pictures have me in a chokehold.

I’m yearning. I need this man like air.

[livingfandomly]

Bucky: do action

My body: do visceral reaction

[gremlin-girly]

Late Night

Pairing: Bucky x gn!reader (with one use of "doll")

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, mutual pining, Bucky crushing on you HARD, sleepy reader (again), friends to lovers, pet names (doll and sweetheart), a hint of angst bc of past trauma, mentions of past trauma (winter soldier), cuddling

Summary: After another late night at work, you refuse to let Bucky down and insist on still coming over to watch the movie you've both been trying to arrange a viewing of for the last few weeks. However, five minutes in you find yourself falling asleep...

Word count: 689

Not beta'd. Written this morning. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted or fed into an AI machine.

A/N: I thought of this a while ago. Am I procrastinating the final installment? Yes. 🫠 I spent two hours editing it yesterday and have found something I don't like and want changed 🙃 oh well.... it should be out by the end of this week sorry Mel

And in typical Friday the 13th fashion i have slept 4hrs, forgot to book my taxi and there's a spider currently scuttling the floor and harassing me. Please send assistance 🥲- Love, Grem x

Masterlist | Busy Morning w/ Steve | The Bucky Barnes Collection

It's said that when animals feel safe around you, they fall asleep near you. Although Bucky wasn't surprised you'd fallen asleep (you'd been working so late recently it was understandable), he was surprised when your head hit his shoulder and even more surprised when you nuzzled against him.

His heart jackhammered painfully in his chest as he tried to control his breathing. He glanced down to where you'd taken residence against him, your soft cheeks pillowing you from the hard muscles in his shoulder. God, you looked perfect even when you slept.

Bucky's heart strings seized as he smiled down at your sleeping form. You felt safe around him. The Winter Soldier had killed so many people and had been a danger to everyone. Everyone was, at least in Bucky's mind, rightfully fearful of him or at least worried about him "snapping".

Everyone but you, it seemed.

When he'd first met you, you'd greeted him with a warm smile and a quick handshake. You didn't even bat an eyelid when you'd grabbed his left hand (the metal hand, the killing hand) and continued blabbering about welcoming him to S.H.I.E.L.D officially. He knew you'd be different from that moment but he didn't realise just how different.

Your sleepiness and lack of sleep was relatable to Bucky; nightmares, nightterrors and nighttime anxiety attacks had plagued him for months. You'd shared tips with him and whilst they weren't entirely helpful at times, there was a comfort there. You were someone he could speak to freely. In fact, he hadn't even told you about the nightmare nor had you asked. One morning at the compound, making coffee in the kitchen you'd only said, "trouble sleeping? I get the feeling. Apparently cherry juice helps."

He'd playfully joked back asking if he looked that bad and you'd grinned at him saying that he was still pretty to you.

It was the first time anyone had called him pretty.

How and when he fell for you he couldn't pin point. Maybe it was that first encounter, maybe it was when you called him pretty or maybe it was ten seconds ago when you fell asleep next to him, blissfully unaware at how you somehow managed to always turn his brain to mush.

"Doll?" Bucky murmurs, nudging your pudgy cheek with his shoulder and biting back a smile when you frown at him with your eyes closed. "The opening credits have barely started and you're falling asleep."

"Hmm? Hmm." You may have been willfully ignoring Bucky in favour of sleep but the facts remained that he was warm, cosy and smelled ridiculously good. Any excuse to stay asleep like this was an excuse worth using.

Bucky sighs and flicks the TV off, scooping you gently into his arms. You make one weak sound of protest but otherwise limply fall against him.

"I'm putting you to bed." He tells you, carrying you into his room and gently setting you onto the bed.

"'M not tired." You mumble curling into his covers as he tucks you in. Your surrounded by the smell of Bucky and the all too familiar fuzzy feeling warms your chest.

"Yeah, you are." Bucky chuckles softly. "Get some sleep. We can watch the movie tomorrow."

As he moves to leave, he hears your whispered request and he pauses.

"Stay with me?"

"Uh...." Bucky swallows. What he wouldn't give to stay next to you but you're sleep-addled brain is the one making the request.

"Please?" You mumble into the covers. "You're so warm. I feel so safe with you near me."

The bed dips as Bucky concedes to your request instantly but he doesn't dare touch you, no, not until you turn until him and snuggle against his chest and grumble a sleepy goodnight does he drape his arm around you and hold you close.

It takes a while for him to fall asleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you and what it meant that you felt safe enough to sleep in his bed with him in it. But when he does finally drift, it's the best night's sleep he's had in a long while.

[buckysouvenir]

agora hills

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n authors note: day thirteen!

the valentine’s day collection 2025: for the first 14 days of february, i’ll be posting a series of short stories inspired by songs, all centered around bucky barnes.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

Bucky never cared much for attention. He had spent years slipping into the shadows, keeping his head down, trying not to be seen. There was a time when being invisible was a matter of survival. A habit that never really went away.

But with Y/N?

With her, he wanted the world to see.

He didn’t care who was watching when he pulled her closer in a crowded room, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Let them look. Let them whisper. He wanted them to know she was his. He wanted them to see that she had chosen him. That she loved him.

And he loved her right back.

His fingers found hers, warm and soft against his own, and he squeezed gently, grounding himself in the reality that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere. He caught the way people’s eyes followed them, the way heads turned as they passed. Normally, it would have put him on edge, sent him into that old fight-or-flight instinct that never quite left him. But not now. Not with her.

"Let ‘em watch, doll," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned down to her ear. "I don’t give a damn."

Y/N laughed, the sound warm and easy, and she turned to face him, tilting her head. "You sure about that, tough guy?"

"Wouldn’t be doin’ this if I wasn’t," he muttered, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her temple.

She shivered at the contact, and he didn’t miss the way her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on just a little tighter. He wasn’t subtle. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be.

The music was loud, the bass vibrating through the floors of the dimly lit club. Normally, a place like this wasn’t his scene—too many people, too many flashing lights, too much noise. But Y/N had wanted to go out, and if she wanted to dance, if she wanted to have a good time, then he’d be damned if he didn’t give it to her.

"Come here," he said, tugging her toward the dance floor, ignoring the way a few people turned to look.

Y/N raised an amused brow. "Didn’t take you for a dancer, Barnes."

"Not usually," he admitted, guiding her through the crowd until they were in the middle of the room, bodies moving all around them. "But for you? I’ll make an exception."

His hands found her hips, fingers pressing firmly into her skin, and he pulled her close, letting her body melt into his. She fit against him like she was made for it, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

It was dangerous, how easily she undid him.

"Big, strong hands, huh?" He teased, the words low and rough as he leaned down, his lips barely grazing her ear.

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. "You heard that?"

"Doll, I hear everything."

Her laughter vibrated through his chest, and damn if it wasn’t the best sound he’d ever heard.

He spun her then, pulling her back against his chest, his arms locking securely around her waist. Her body moved against his, hips swaying with the music, and he let himself get lost in the feeling of her. In the way she fit against him so perfectly.

They had spent too much time apart in the past, too much time dancing around whatever this was, whatever they were. But now?

Now he had her.

And he wasn’t gonna let the world forget it.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | Series | Bare

Part three of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: The attack you suffered wasn't at all what either of you expected. Sharing a bed with Bucky is the least of your problems.

Warning: 18+. Angst, violence (!alluding to non-con!) and smut.

Words: 3,70O

It’s frustrating – to be so tired and not to be able to fall asleep. You’re forced to watch the orange lights travel over the ceiling with every vehicle that passes. Forced to feel the presence of Bucky behind you. And forced to be unable to look at him, read his mind, or even know if sleep has found him at least. You’d guess hours have passed, but the sun would be up. When Bucky was treating the wound on your thigh – only an enjoyable, throbbing ache left of the pain – it had been 3am.

Summer is making you feel sticky. It’s making the noises from outside overly loud and the albeit passable hotel feel stuffy. You’ve already kicked off the sheets and moved your hair as much from your skin as possible.

Then, you realise the gift of getting to complain about such luxurious things. There was a time not too long ago where you were locked up and never imagined getting to feel a change in temperature, or watch vehicles pass by that other people drove. People with lives, with purpose. There was time where you were so preoccupied with getting to the next day, making sure your people made it to the next day, making a bigger statement than the last – there was no time to be nervous about a super soldier sleeping in the bed with you.

Because you are – nervous. It’s ridiculous, to feel like a teenage girl next to a handsome man. A handsome man who doesn’t seem ruffled by you at all. There is… flirtation. And it’s surprisingly easy with him. The last time you had flirtation like that with anyone, you hardly remember. Besides, it’s terribly fun to rile him up all the time, and to know that at any time he will come back with something just as sharp.

You dare a glance in his direction, almost certain he’s asleep, and then you pause. He does seem asleep, but deeply uncomfortable. Light from outside reflects on the sheen of sweat on his face and chest, there seem to be tremors going through his body.

Lifting a hand to his shoulder carefully, you hope not to startle him. He groans lowly at the touch, relief on his face at what you assume is the coolness of your skin. Because he’s burning.

“Bucky,” you whisper, a slight plea in your tone as you sit up a little.

He moans your name softly as he writhes and find out he’s awake after all.

“Hey,” you coo softly, peeling the sheets off of him to get him some reprieve. “What’s going on? Did you get hit?”

He seems slightly dazed and finally he crawls to sit up against the headboard. His chest is heaving with shallow breaths and it takes him a while to drag his eyes to yours. You haven’t seen him so… pliant before. It’s so unlike him.

Clearly, it takes him too much effort to think of tonight’s events and come up with an answer to your question, so you drag your eyes over every inch of his body to see if there are any wounds you might have missed.

But nothing.

Bucky seems to have caught on to your quest and shakes his head, running a metal hand through his sweaty hair. “No, nothing got me.”

“But you’re burning up,” you counter and climb off the bed, flicking on a light. His face pinches together at the overstimulation and a shudder rolls through his body. “Are you in pain?”

He thinks for a second and that is answer enough for you. Bucky is the type of man to say ‘no’ first and then check if he actually has pain, only to proceed to ignore it until it dissipates. You grab your phone to start searching for something, anything, that might help you figure this out. If it manages to affect Bucky this much, it can’t be good.

However, you get sidetracked by the dozen missed calls and an urgent text from Sam to call him back as soon as possible. You frown, feeling Bucky’s curious eyes on you, and call Sam.

“Sam,” you start, pressing the screen to put the phone on speaker, “you said to call you back. What’s wrong?”

“We wanted to know if you saw anything suspicious tonight at the party,” he answers.

“Why?” Bucky manages to get out.

“There have been more casualties,” he says and you lock eyes with Bucky, his turning empathetic at the realisation. “There is a number of people who have started acting strangely, almost manic. Most of them have passed away mere hours later. At first, we couldn’t figure out what it was, but along their expected injuries from the bombing, they each had a tiny pinprick on their bodies.”

“A pinprick?” you ask, brows furrowed. That would insinuate an injection, which is an odd thing to incur. Unless there was a bigger scheme at play at the gala tonight.

Bucky speaks up now, all of a sudden sounding more alert, “Did you find out what people got injected with?” His mind must go the same place yours has and you run your assessing gaze over his heated skin again. Dread settles in your stomach. Any trace of a pin prick would have vanished on a fast-healing body…

“We have the last subjects under investigation now and Natasha is trying to hack into systems to find something. You have to get back here as soon as possible.” Sam sounds worried.

“Sam,” you start and Bucky’s eyes go to you in question, turning icy when he hears your next words, “Bucky has a fever.”

…

The ride back to the nearest bunker is painfully long. Bucky’s skin is throbbing and he’s certain he can feel every pump of blood pressing through his veins. Dull thumps echo through his ears with every fast pound of his heart, the organ seemingly working overtime. He’s sweating, but so cold. It feels like there’s ice running over his skin and lava in his core. Trying to keep himself upright has been a challenge. He wants to sink, and sink, and sink until his head is on your chest and you will stroke his hair.

Your voice is sharp as it penetrates Bucky’s heavy daze, announcing that you have finally arrived at the bunker assigned for you. Going to the compound would take too long, Sam insisted, so you dragged Bucky to the car and drove off to your assigned location. You hoist him out of the car, trying to hold his weight and muttering some words of comfort. Bucky tries his best to walk, dragging his feet over the ground, the gravel loud in the silence of your current spot. You must be really isolated.

The bunker is fairly modern and well-stocked. After another injection you found in one of the medical cabinets and a comfortable bed to lie in, things had started to clear up for Bucky.

Finally awake and seemingly level-headed, Bucky turns his heavy head to you, lounging on the chair beside him, just as a massive yawn rips over your face. He opens his mouth to speak, but halts when you sit up with your eyes on your phone. He follows your gaze and watches you unlock your phone to a FaceTime call with Natasha, Sam and a doctor whose name Bucky has forgotten.

They look tormented.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Natasha explains and bites her lip. Bucky braces himself. “I managed to break into the file system of the government branch that is responsible for the attack. There were a few objectives to their mission at the gala: to scare, to warn and to research.” All of a sudden you’re holding a set of files and Bucky assumes it is a copy of whatever Natasha has found and faxed over to the middle of nowhere. “Apparently, they have been sitting on a serum that they want to use in the future. There was pressure on getting it developed faster, but they couldn’t get it tested ethically. They came up with a plan to test the effects of the serum during an attack where they would scare any resistance to their movement, hoping they could study the effects – no matter how severe they would be – and everyone else would assume that complications must be from the attack, and no one would ever look their way.”

Bucky looks at you as your eyes scan the files and the look on your face is anything but reassuring. You look at Natasha like he isn’t even there and Bucky’s composure is failing him.

“I’m feeling better,” he tries.

Natasha sighs and you turn to him in the chair, leaving the phone on a stand. You flip through the files and start reading a certain paragraph, “All subjects run a fever high enough to kill them. Only 15 percent of the subjects survive against all odds, confirming that the serum does awaken a primal survival instinct. Group one, the subjects that were isolated from others, show extreme discomfort and start pleasuring themselves to get rid of it. Group two, the subjects that were put together, either killed each other or started having intercourse to relieve the pain and discomfort. None of them hesitated in following their carnal desires. Group three, subjects exposed to non-subjects, went to highly unethical lengths to stop their discomfort, similar to group two…” Your voice drifts off to a soft murmur and you are set on not making eye-contact with Bucky, much to his dismay.

“What else?” he grits out.

“It continues to say that the serum’s goal is to reduce people to their carnal desires and primal instincts in the hopes of making them more pliant and susceptible to directions,” you explain slowly and Bucky can tell it pains you to read it out. “The problem seems to be that the subjects don’t become pliant – they become unhinged… Eventually forcing scientists to eliminate the remaining subjects.” You pause and frown. Then share a worried look with Natasha, who nods. “Their next step would be to find out how the serum would affect ‘super humans’.” The room falls silent and you look up at him. Bucky has gone hard as stone, not an emotion left in him. “You were targeted.”

…

He hasn’t said anything in hours and you keep scanning your eyes over him. Up and down, up and down – hoping to find any clue as to how he’s doing. The call ended with the clear instructions to leave Bucky in the room alone and lock yourself away. You stuck around, reading through the entire report over and over, in case you might find something to help him. He’s been pacing since the call ended.

Normally, you’d choose the approach of giving Bucky time and space until he feels ready to talk about how he’s feeling or what his observations are. However, patience and time for that matter, are not on your side today. Dr. Wen made it perfectly clear that there is a window of time before chaos breaks loose and you need to calculate just how bad the repercussions will be of Bucky’s exposure.

You know Bucky enough – know how much he has been through – which makes it that much more difficult to estimate how well he will be able to fight the substance. He can fight a lot, manage through manipulations that most people would easily fall for or succumb to. But this, possibly made for super soldiers like him, this is different. This substance promises to fight each of his bodily functions that keep that primal instinct at bay – to keep him contained. Part of you wonders how much his primal self is attached to the Winter Soldier. Because if Hydra’s Asset comes out, you are officially done for.

You can’t really leave – won’t leave. Not with a new trickle of sweat rolling down Bucky’s temple, his fists clenching and his teeth grinding together in discomfort. No, you won’t leave him alone. You’re not sure how the substance will affect him, but you’ll stick with him. People have abandoned him too many times and this is too similar to what he’s already been through to leave him fending for himself. Besides, you know what it’s like to be left alone when you need people the most.

“Bucky?” you rasp and his eyes settle on yours.

Your breath hitches in your throat at that look in his eyes, the deep shadow his brow casts over his eyes and the taut look of his bone structure. Bucky visibly swallows and takes a breath of restraint. You think maybe your call didn’t register in his brain at the conflicted look on his face, but his mouth opens before you can try again.

“Run.”

Blood running cold and spine going rigid, you gape at the man before you.

“What.” It comes out as a whisper.

Bucky grits his teeth and you don’t know how you missed the obvious signals of his body that showcase a supernatural amount of restraint. This man is fighting demons you cannot even imagine. You take a step forward to console him, but his hand grabs the nearest aluminium table and his fingers curl so tightly that the material bends. You freeze.

“I need you to run,” he chokes.

You shake your head. “Bucky, the report said it heightens instinct and primal need. Your instinct isn’t to kill me. I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”

Bucky’s nostrils flare and his head drops. He heaves a deep sigh, as if tired to have to explain it to you. He gathers something, maybe courage, to tell you, but decides against it in the end. “I said: run.”

A ripple of agony goes through him, visible by the tight clench of his bare abdomen. His muscles are tense, his pupils blown to dark pits and his veins are protruding from his skin. You don’t know where the arrogance comes from to stick around when the Winter Soldier might be the one standing in front of you in a few seconds, but somehow abandoning Bucky seems worse than death.

You glance at the opened med kit, wondering if another injection might keep the serum at bay. You’re not sure how it works, but it seemed to clear Bucky up before… He buckles over again with a primal growl, body rippling with pain and discomfort.

“What do you need, Bucky?” you try.

“Run,” he snaps. “I need you to fucking run. I can’t hold this off much longer. It’s been hours.”

The report had said most subjects only hold out four hours at the most. Bucky is going into hour eight right about now. You hesitate then, feet shuffling without moving away from him. You give him a pained look and you feel like you’re getting one in return, but before the agony reaches Bucky’s face, he buckles over completely and crashes to the floor, his hands curling against the ground.

On instinct, you dive down and put your hand on his back. “Bucky! Are you–”

A sinful moan rips from his throat and within an instant his metal hand grabs the hand that is resting on his back, and rips it off of him. “Don’t– touch me.”

You pause, trying not to cringe at the tight grip he has on your hand. The next thing you do is to pry your hand away from him and follow his request, but his hand is holding onto yours too tightly. You open your mouth to say something, but his flesh hand starts tracing over de lines and curves of your hand, over your wrist and up your arm.

That’s when you realise the contents of the rest of the report, not even having considered the alternative to Bucky wanting to kill you. Your body heats at the thought and you start trembling. Your eyes trickle over every feature of his – his bare, heaving chest and his bulging arms and thick thighs and his mouth… Oh, his mouth.

You do something stupid – perhaps because the thing that is currently on your mind might be the best thing to do right before you die anyway – and you raise your other hand, sliding it over his shoulder and up into his neck. Bucky shudders and you curl your nails to scrape over his skin, making him hiss and let out a low moan from the back of his throat.

“Do you want to kill me?” you ask and Bucky’s head lifts slowly, eyes wide and two lines between his brow in utter confusion. You can’t imagine the physical pain he must be in right now, if the reports are anything to go by.

“No,” he breathes, like you’re insane for even asking.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Bucky swallows hard at that question, jaw working, like the question is enough to make him combust. But he shakes his head and you have a hard time admitting what that does to your self esteem.

“The reports–” he grunts and heaves in a deep breath, his current train of thought seemingly creating an exponentially growing amount of pain. “The reports are wrong. They ruined each other and only wanted to fuck. Get their dicks wet, gets their holes filled.”

Heat rushes up your neck and cheeks at his words and you stroke your hand up and down his neck, perhaps to soothe yourself. In the reports, the subjects had been vividly described as out-of-control animals, as rough and violent and selfish. Does the serum have a different effect on Bucky because he’s more resistant to the drug? He does seem to want to be touched. And if he keeps moaning like that – moans of pleasure, not pain – you’re afraid you’ll do anything to touch him. So much so, you wonder if the serum causes a contagious reaction.

“How are the reports wrong?” you try carefully.

“I don’t just want to fuck you,” he groans and his eyes soften, though they never lose their hard edge. Their determination. “I’m selfish.” He pauses, like he expects you to know what it is he wants. You look at him with pleading eyes – for information or temptation – he’s not sure.

You nod, unsurely, but determined as well. “That’s okay. You can be selfish. I can take it.”

He drawls your name in warning, eyes darkening. Clearly you have no idea what he wants from you and the willingness in your tone sends another miserable ache through his limbs, sending his body to curl up again and his eyes to scrunch shut, which you quickly soothe by shuffling closer to him and stroking your palm down his spine. Bucky’s tactical pants are becoming unbearably tight and it takes everything for him to not look at your lips. He knows if he catches one glimpse of your mouth, he’s gone.

“I trust you,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cheek.

His eyes snap back to yours, searching frantically, but he seems to find only truth on your face. Yet his eyes search and search, for any sign that you don’t want this – don’t want him – and he makes the detrimental mistake to let his gaze fall to your mouth. Your lips.

Something inside of him rips free and it’s so scaringly close to a furious Winter Soldier, that Bucky almost hesitates. But his eyes are on your lips and the trained soldier in him has a mission – centred solely around those fucking lips of yours. So he dives forward and crashes his mouth to yours, bringing both of you to the ground.

His hand covers the back of your head and his knees split your thighs apart, instantly grinding his hips between them. When your back arches up against him at the contact, his arm slides under your back to press you up against him, keeping your core attached to his unbearably hard cock, still straining against his clothes.

You sigh against his lips and glide your arms around his neck, pushing closer to him. Bucky’s hands slide down to your ass and he effortlessly lifts you with him, sitting in your vacated chair and keeping you in his lap. The kiss is so desperate and intimate and longing. Your hands in his hair, his hands stroking up and down your back – down and down. You, grinding down onto him and him hissing against your mouth.

One of his hands locks into your hair, tugging your head down to him for better access as your tongues connect and both of you moan at the same time, locking something in that neither of you can ever come back from.

And Bucky is almost convinced you have the serum running through your veins as well – it’s impossible for someone to feel that good. He has to stop kissing you to stop from going insane, and his mouth drags down your jaw and neck, unable to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the skin below your ear. He feels your heartbeat between your legs and forces your hips to grind down on him again.

“Be selfish,” you gasp. “Please be selfish.”

He knows for a fact that you have no idea what you’re asking for. He knows you think he’ll flip you over and take you until he’s spent. But no. He wants to play with you and not give you what you’re begging for. He wants you on his hands, his thigh, his tongue and his cock. He wants you past the serum – past the upcoming few hours.

You see, the second Bucky figured out what this serum was going to do to him, he knew the last person he should be around, is you. Had known there was somehow only one person that would crumble his resolve quicker than anything or anyone else. And now that you want him…

This is the first time in over a hundred years that Bucky and the Winter Soldier are in perfect harmony together. The first time he hears the Soldat tell him from deep in the back of his head,

“Ready to comply.”

[winterbaronkinkmeme]

Missing the good old kink memes on livejournal and dreamwidth?

Come and take part in the Winterbaron Kink Meme dedicated to James "Bucky" Barnes and Helmut Zemo.

THE WINTERBARON KINK MEME IS NOW OFFICIALLY OPEN!

Please read the rules and FAQ before prompting, especially concerning the prompt formating, then prompt, prompt, prompt! UPDATE: ROUND 2 of prompt submission officially open!

Browse the prompts here, claim and fill! NEW! Check out the PROMPT & FILL MASTERLIST for easier browsing!

The Winterbaron Kink Meme is open for prompts and fills until Novembre, the 1st!

Reblogs and promotion on other platforms appreciated! Event tags: #winterbaron kink meme and #wbkinkmeme

Follow this blog for updates and join the winterbaron discord server to discuss the event!

🐰PROMPTS🐰 Who? Anyone with an Ao3 account can submit a prompt. In the tradition of old kink memes, the prompts are set to anonymous by default so GO WILD! BEWARE! If you uncheck the "Semi-anonymous Prompt?" box when submitting your prompt though, your ao3 username will appear as the prompter. What? Allowed main relationships: Bucky & Zemo, Bucky/Zemo, Bucky/Zemo/Other(s), Bucky/Laszlo. All other relationships must be background ones. Student!Bucky/Professor!Zemo, Desk Sex Only prompt titles are mandatory. If you want to submit a more detailed prompt, use the optional “Prompt Details” box where you can add plot details, bonus requests, do not wants. Example: Prompt title box (required): Bucky/Zemo, Shower Sex Prompt details box (optional): Set in Madripoor, Bucky topping. Bonus point: Sharon’s pov DNW: watersports. Art/Picture prompts are welcome: just add the link to the pic in the "Link" box. IMPORTANT: If your prompt contains spoilers (Hello, Thunderbolts* prompts!), you must put the spoilers in the “Prompt details” box using that code: <details><summary>SPOILERS</summary>[insert your spoilers here]</details>. ✍️FILLS🎨 Who? Anyone with an Ao3 account can fill a prompt. What? Any type of fanwork is accepted for this kink meme as long as it fits the prompt and is posted to Ao3: fanfiction, fanart, moodboard, manip, playlist… For the fanfictions, the only minimum word requirement is 100 words. How? 1) Claim the prompt in the Prompts page 2) Select the "Fulfill" button beside the claimed prompt you wish to complete. This opens the Post New Work form with the assignment details already filled in, the collection selected, and with the prompt added to the beginning Notes section. Alternatively, you can fulfill the assignment by going to the Post New Work form. In the Associations section, select the checkbox for the open claim you are completing. When you post or preview the work, the details of the Prompt Meme and prompter will be automatically filled in for you. The work will be added to the Prompt Meme's collection; however, the prompt itself won't be automatically added to the beginning Notes section. ⏰TIMELINE⏰ The kink meme will be open for both prompts and fills in the second half of March 2025. It will remain open to both fills and prompts until the 1st of November 2025 to match the end of kinktober!

[mae-lou-ron]

Some friendly advice: if you want to get into writing fan fiction, don’t be like me and pick a fandom where the characters tend to lose their body parts at an alarming rate.

[buckets-and-trees]

FINE LINE collection

a near-future dark omegaverse AU

Twenty years ago, the United States went up in flames and burned to ash. Canada and Mexico came down in the blaze alongside it. From the charred embers, eleven sovereign states emerged with a tenuous affiliation to stabilize and keep the peace among them. Noble and nefarious forces are now emerging to try and reshape the political landscape - some to become more united, some to seize power.

Scattered amongst the political games is the complexity of life in an omegaverse. Alpha, beta, and omega distinctions are only as straightforward as a fool believes them to be as feelings and beliefs intermingle with the biology of all relational dynamics.

Once known as the Winter Soldier, the White Wolf, Bucky Barnes, now leads the fearsome HYDRA pack that has emerged to make a play for power. You could not stand in his way, but what can you do if you fall in step behind the cruel alpha?

Content Warnings: [check individual parts for their respective warnings] DARK STORY, omegaverse dynamics (biting, claiming, scenting, heats, bonding, alpha commands), scenes of dubious consent, angst, manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping, explicit smut

COLLECTION: Governor Barnes ↠ part one: Give Up [450] ↠ part two: Falling Away [1.5k] ↠ part three: Every Minute Of It [4k] ↠ part four: Entanglement [4.9k] ↠ part five: No Way Out [5.9k] aside with General Ari Levinson: Rank and Promotion [7.5k]

EXTRAS: ↠ Alpha Bucky is mean, hints of characters to come (response to a reblog)

[ciricegh0st]

oh no a sassy character with a sad backstory that acts tough but is actually in a lot of emotional pain and is just as soft as a teddy bear oh no haha.........kiss mw

[avonne-writes]

https://www.tumblr.com/avonne-writes/744097471832129536/once-just-once-buck-agrees-to-drink-alcohol-and

I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HOW BUCKY WOULD REACT TO THIS?

It took all of Bucky's charms to convince Gale to drink with them on Bucky’s 25th birthday. He begged and pleaded and cajoled him with his best puppy dog eyes until that half-suppressed smile appeared on Gale's face, and he said. "Suppose I can stomach one glass."

So, they went to the nearest bar in town with all the other cadets who had a weekend pass. Bucky got them both a stiff drink, and they clinked glasses before throwing them back, to the cheers of Bucky's friends. Well, Bucky threw it back. Gale gave it a long look, then took about half a sip.

Bucky could see him shudder, his plump lips purse. He leaned back against the bar, his elbows on the counter, and snorted a laugh. "I can take it off your hands if you don’t like it."

Gale just gave him a glance from the corner of his eye, then poured the whole thing down his throat. A muscle tightened in his jaw as he put his glass down, probably fighting nausea. He turned and put his palms flat on the bar as if to steady himself as the burning liquid settled in his stomach.

Bucky nodded at him, trying and failing to hold back a grin. "Look at you."

It was hard to tell in the bar's warm light, but Gale's cheeks seemed pink already. He blinked at his empty glass, then looked at Bucky and smiled as though he thought something was very funny. "Happy birthday."

Bucky's grin widened. He squeezed Gale's shoulder, then turned to gesture for the barkeep. "Another one for me and a ginger beer for my friend."

-

Bucky was on his third drink and just about starting to feel the buzz of it in his limbs when he noticed Gale watching him. They were seated in a booth by then, trapped in the corner by all the other guys who came to celebrate with them. Their friends were trying to outyell each other as they all fought to tell the same story to a pair of hapless girls they managed to invite to the table. So no one paid any attention when Bucky turned to look at Gale and found him looking back. For a moment, they just stared into each other's eyes, then Gale averted his and smiled. Again, as if the world around him was the most amusing thing ever. He was flushed, his blue eyes shiny.

Bucky's lips curled into a wide grin. "Feeling good?" He asked. When Gale tried to control his smile and failed to wipe it off his face, he laughed. "Got you good, didn't it?"

Gale rubbed at his forehead and leaned against Bucky's side. His gaze lacked its usual sharp gleam and his hand moved in less measured gestures than usual - he was completely buzzed. "I'm fine."

"I can see that." Bucky chuckled. The fact that Gale was a lightweight didn't surprise him at all. Originally, he had thought that maybe he could get a few more drinks in him, but seeing him after only one, he knew that sticking to ginger beer for the rest of the night would probably be for the best. "Do you need some air?"

Gale shook his head. Then, Bucky felt it - under the table, Gale's fingers were hooked into the belt of his uniform. Who knew when they found their way there. They clung to him as he leaned back in his seat, and Gale’s shoulders followed to find his again. A muscle twinged in Bucky's chest. His grin faded into something more muted as he studied Gale's flaming face, the way his smile dug deeper lines into his cheek whenever he glanced in Bucky's direction from the corner of his eyes, the way he bowed his head, and the shadows his eyelashes cast.

He couldn't resist, he bumped his knuckles lightly against Gale's cheek. It felt hot to the touch. The gesture made Gale snicker, then hide his face behind his free hand as he often did when he didn't want to draw attention to his laugh. With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Bucky slid his arm behind Gale, palm coming to rest warmly on Gale's shoulder. He felt his own face heat up when, instead of staying still as usual, Gale leant his whole weight into the embrace as if he was starving for it. He even tipped his head back to rest it on Bucky’s arm. His hand slipped to Bucky's thigh.

Bucky looked around, but none of their friends seemed to notice. Most of them were also well on their way to drunkenness. Only he was running behind, it seemed. A situation he couldn't say he was familiar with, but given the state Gale was in, he thought that was a lucky thing. He leaned in to whisper into Gale's ear.

"Do you wanna leave?"

Gale closed his eyes, still smiling, then nodded. That was all Bucky needed. With some effort, he managed to extricate them out of the booth, crawling over some of the guys, who shoved at him playfully before getting up to let Gale out too. Gale moved slowly, with the caution of someone who was doing his best not to appear drunk, but if someone knew him well enough, the abundance of joy in his expression was a dead giveaway. Buck Cleven wasn't prone to smiling at nothing or to moving his gaze back and forth between Bucky and the rest of the bar instead of keeping it fixed on one thing. Bucky pretended to be drunker than he was just to have an excuse to throw his arm around Gale. He started singing, and felt Gale's arm squeeze tight around his waist.

"Buck, you gotta do something before we all go deaf!" One of the guys called out to raucous laughter. Gale snickered again, clinging to Bucky a bit harder, then he started pushing Bucky towards the door.

"I'm coming back for that dice game, Bill!" Bucky pointed at them, and they all waved their arms at him to just leave already so that they could continue trying to woo the girls.

He and Gale made it outside in a few minutes.

They stumbled into a dark alley nearby, where Gale tugged at the lapels of Bucky's uniform until Bucky kissed him. His lips parted pliantly for Bucky's tongue, and he tasted so sweet that for a moment, Bucky thought he might get drunk on it too. It was a nice, languid kiss. Bucky could have pushed for more but he forced himself to pull back, because he had a feeling that a back-alley romp wasn't what Gale was actually being so needy for, and he could tell that he was right when the first thing Gale did when they parted was to drop his head to Bucky's shoulder.

When Bucky slid his hands up Gale's arms to his back to hug him, he wrapped his own arms around Bucky's waist. He sighed as the embrace closed around him.

They stayed like that for so long that Bucky thought Gale might have fallen asleep standing. But as he tried to pull away, the arms around him tightened.

Bucky breathed in deep. "You wanna sleep in my room tonight?" And this time, that was all he meant, sleep. He could sneak Gale into his hotel room, and they could cuddle as much as Gale needed.

Gale took a deep breath too and straightened up. He let Bucky go to rub at his own face. "Sorry about that." He cleared his throat. A frown formed between his eyebrows. It seemed that he was sobering up. "No, I'll be all right. You go back. It’s your birthday after all. I think I will - go find a ride back to base."

"I'm not going back without you."

Gale looked at him. Even in the dim light, Bucky could tell that his eyes weren't quite clear yet, but some of the haze was gone. "I need a few more minutes."

Bucky leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. With his free hand, he reached out to hold Gale's. He was pleased when Gale didn't pull away. "I can wait."

Gale watched him wordlessly with that tipsy little smile on his face until Bucky finished his cigarette. When the last of it burnt down, Bucky threw the stub away and stepped into Gale's space again. He gave him a chaste kiss.

Gale bumped his forehead to his, then moved away. "I'm not drinking another one."

Bucky laughed and pushed him towards the main street. "Why not?"

[steverogersnotebook]

Marvel Premier Collection

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Ed Brubaker & Steve Epting with Foreword by Sebastian Stan

[buckyalpine]

This little purse took forever to make BUT worth it cause now I have a cute lil bag to take Bucky and his baby Goose everywhere I go, look at how snugly he is in there.

I need to really write something about Bucky being tasked to watch over Goose with 0 context, just thinking he’s a cute orange kitty.

And then the chaos. All the chaos. But Goose LOVES Bucky and is basically obsessed with him and sleeps in his hoodie and nowhere else.