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duckybarnes1917 · 2 months

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Thank you for the best late birthday gift ever @rookthorne ❤️🥰 No one has ever done anything like this for me and it makes me feel so special. I love you and can’t wait to see where you take this collection!

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

The first day of any new job was always the hardest — all the rules and roles to navigate while establishing yourself as someone reliable, trustworthy, and far too interested in your employer.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 8.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Swearing, pet names, fluff, slight angst/insecurity, pining, unspecified age gap, Bucky is a shameless flirt and he knows it, extreme sexual tension/implied smut, heated kissing, there is a kid in this fic

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ Happy belated birthday, @duckybarnes1917 — I hope you enjoy the torturous collection I came up with just for you, love you long time. 😘 ୨୧ This AU and fic itself have skyrocketed into my personal top 5. I threw my all into this and I am fucking proud of it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ greedy by Tate McRae ୨୧ Like U by Rosenfeld

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ୨୧ @smutconnoisseur — thank you for dealing with my flying by the seat of my pants attitude because oh my god—

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Babysitting (December), Teasing (January), Single Parent (February) — Masterlist ჻჻჻ Aggressive Flirting (February) — Masterlist ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — DILF AU — Masterlist ୨୧ @mcukinkbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Mistaken for a couple — Masterlist ୨୧ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗚𝟮 — First Kiss — Masterlist ୨୧ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine — Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The advertisement was like any other — a father looking for a babysitter to watch over his little girl while he worked, and from what you could gather, the father worked a prestigious job that took up a substantial amount of time when he had to visit the office.

A sweet little girl that adored princesses and coloured her days away, if her description was anything to be believed, and you applied for the position straight away, not wasting a moment before you sent all of your credentials through. It seemed a perfect fit.

To your shock (and relief), you heard back from your new employer within the hour.

James Barnes, a leading engineer in his field of cutting-edge prosthetics, called you in the next half hour, voice deep and honeyed with a hidden sense of cunning curiosity. The conversation was brief before he invited you over for a drink — of your choice, “You can have whatever you want, doll, I don’t mind,” he purred after you stuttered a shocked, nonsensical reply.

It was intoxicating, the sound of his voice lulling into fantasies that your majorly unhelpful mind conjured after that encounter. The memory was barely definable through your lust fuelled recollections of your shared drinks.

Over time, after spending time with the both of them, it took all of your willpower to not be lulled towards the forbidden curiosities you held for your new employer. He was enigmatic, playful, curious, and lethally charming with a smile to match — one that danced in your daydreams and slumber with far too sinful results.

The rapport with your new charge came over easy, a blessed relief that instilled a confidence in you; a job that would both be a smooth and interesting challenge, sans complications of a tantruming child.

James, however, quickly made it his mission to fluster you at every turn: asking you about your day and praising you for the smallest, littlest things, to bringing you home flowers and treats when he walked in the door to greet you.

It never failed to make heat creep up your neck, and never failed to land elsewhere.

You were no stranger to attraction, but James was something else — a broad, older man, single father to a little girl, incredibly handsome and intelligent, and far too suave for his own good. Just the thought of his attention made you feel giddy with the rush of endorphins.

One particular video call stuck in your mind to this day, a loop of his voice and soft, enamoured expression on repeat. Both of you were discussing the particular habits of his little girl: how she loved certain movies and detested others, where she loved to have her meals and with what plush teddies and dolls had to sit with her, and so on, so forth.

It was heartwarming to bear witness how much he adored his daughter, a clear example of love and devotion you’d only seen in very few circumstances.

“She doesn’t mind having other movies,” James said, and the camera panned to the little girl happily playing with her dolls. “It’s just– She will pout and whine if she doesn’t get, y’know, that movie.”

You chuckled and noted it down on a piece of paper. “And we’re not saying the name of that movie because–?”

The phone’s camera flipped back to show James’ fearful expression, wide, bright eyes staring directly into the screen and through to your soul. “It’s because I don’t want a riot in my living room,” he said carefully, around your laughter — you couldn’t help it, he was too dramatic. “Besides, I would rather spend my time talking to my pretty Fawn.”

The use of the pet name he reserved for only you made you splutter and hide — tilting the camera to the ceiling as you bit your lip hard enough for it to almost bleed. “Aw, come back,” James teased, “I was enjoying seeing your face—not the damned ceiling.”

You were sure it was some kind of sin for how often that comment played in your mind during the late hours of the night, but you couldn’t help it.

In such a short span of time, you fell hard for your boss, the father of your charge, and it was a hell of a forbidden rush to think of him in such a way — above you, pinning you to the surface while he fucked you deep, hard, and fast. The deep, animalistic grunts that would fall from his lips, or the praises he’d sing of how tight you were for him.

Not to mention, the way his deep, chocolate brown hair would fall from his shoulders to hang between your bodies, the ends of it tickling your skin when he would pull out; only to thrust hard back into your cunt with a wrecked, gravelly moan.

The clatter of your fork on your plate made you jump a mile high, and you came back to reality with a crash to find the sun casting its bright rays over the breakfast nook in your apartment. “Fuck, fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head to clear the heated images while your thighs clenched traitorously at the visual and auditory vision. “Goddammit.”

What lay ahead, however, made the burning thoughts turn to butterflies in your stomach. Today was the day, your first real test: a full day packed to the brim with activities you planned that would suit the young, imaginative mind you no doubt believed the girl to have, given who her father was.

A loud chime sounded next to you, and you gasped in fright. “Shit!” you cursed, and you scrambled to grab your phone.

Speaking of the devil; James’ name flashed at the bottom of your screen, and you read the text with an unparalleled eagerness.

She just woke up and she’s already screaming about her new friend visiting today. We’re excited to see you, Fawn.

Attached to the text was a picture of the little girl you affectionately called Starlet. She was holding a drawing up to the camera that had no doubt been hastily created — it was you, James, and her holding hands. The movement she artistically captured led you to assume the three of you were dancing in front of the giant, scribbled rainbow in the background.

Tears welled in your eyes at the soft warmth that bloomed in your chest — only having had prominently video calls with her, she already considered you a friend.

Memories pulled at your mind again, and you thought back to the time you received a video call from Starlet one evening — it was just starting to grow dark when your phone chimed, and you answered it without a second thought after seeing your employer’s name on the screen. “Hello?”

A bright, smiling face stared at you through the screen.

“Oh, hello, honey!” you said happily. “What are you up to?” Then you remembered that she was a crafty, cunning little girl. With a sterner tone, you pressed on in the interrogation, “Where’s your dad—have you taken his phone again?”

“No, I’m here, Fawn,” James called distantly, and he laughed. “Starlet wanted to say hello—I’m just cooking dinner, you don’t mind, do you? Are we keeping you from something?”

“Nope.” The cushions against your back suddenly became very comfortable, now that you had company of your favourite two people. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart,” you asked of Starlet, and the little girl flew into an explanation that lasted one whole hour.

It was only when James took his phone back did you have a moment to catch your reeling mind, only for it to start spinning at the sight of his broad, handsome smile.

The phone in your hand buzzed once more, pulling you from the reverie. James sent another message asking if you would bring more of a specific set of gel pens — Starlet had taken to them and never quieted down about how sparkly they were.

A giggle escaped from your lips in the quiet of your home, and your thumbs flew over the keyboard to type back: Sure can. I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ll be there soon!

“Okay,” you said to yourself, picking up your plate of now stone-cold breakfast. “Let’s do this.”

You ignored the heavy weight of the secret bearing down on your mind as you padded down the hallway to your bedroom; how wrong it was to fall for your damned employer and harbour the lust over him, but you couldn’t help but revel in the thrill of it.

After dressing comfortably, you made sure to grab an extra set of gel pens for the princess that awaited you before you walked out the door, locking it behind you.

The journey to James’ home was thankfully uneventful, and you pulled up to where your directions led.

Your mouth fell slack with shock at what you found awaiting you.

The driveway to James’ home was sprawling in the length and design. Flowering hedges lined either side of the luxuriously paved road, and there was a water feature — a water feature, you thought incredulously, placed dead centre in front of a set of stairs that led to a massive, windowed, double set of doors.

“No wonder the pay was that high, he’s rich.” Your car travelled silently up the way while you took in the opulence of your new surroundings.

To the left of the stairway leading to the front door, was an empty space next to a fancy SUV. “I hope that’s for me,” you mumbled, and you parked your car while sure to leave space between the vehicles. The handbrake creaked and the engine shut off with a shudder, the sound of it made you grimace. “I have to get this checked; sooner rather than later.”

With no time to pause and consider your misfortune with vehicles, you slid out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk to fetch the bag of delightful craft supplies you readied for Starlet. Through your raging nerves, you managed to hum a song quietly as you placed the strap over your shoulder.

The sole of your shoes padded over the pavement of the driveway, and the mansion that loomed ahead of you in its majesty — the architecture alone made it appear like something from the cover of a magazine.

“Whoa,” you breathed, spinning in place to take it all in. The beauty and aesthetic of the home was unmatched in the tidiness of the landscaping, and the facade of the home highlighted the contrasting use of colours in both the wood and steel that made up the accents. “Holy–”

A squeal of glee cut your admiration short, and one of the double doors of the home flew open to reveal a small girl dashing down the steps, clothed in a typical sparkly, princess dress. “Hi!”

“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling backwards with the force of the child’s hug. “Goodness, hello! You must be the little Starlet, huh?” The comment was teasing — you knew for certain this was your charge, but the girl beamed up at you through her fly-away hair.

“Yeah,” Starlet giggled. Her small arms, decorated in sparkly lace, squeezed you tighter.

A deep voice tinged with the worry only a parent could possess, suddenly called from the stairs. “Starlet! Honey–? Don’t run off on me like that–” They stopped, and you looked up — the breath in your lungs escaped as though you’d been punched in the diaphragm. “Fawn!”

You blinked, unable to form the words that would accurately depict the sight before you.

James was smiling — the very same one that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. The tight, navy blue, rounded collar shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, while black dress pants hugged his thighs.

It was true, you had seen him numerous times via your video calls and once in person, but nothing came close to preparing you for how he would be in the comfort of his own home; how his voice was just as deep, if not deeper, and trickled down your spine with the same heat as molten lava.

Oh, fuck, you thought.

Aloud, you said, “Mr. Barnes!”

James grinned and shook his head. “Fawn, sweetheart—please call me Bucky.” He neared you, his presence overwhelmingly close, and he leaned in for a hug that you nervously returned — all the while praying the hammering beat of your heart couldn’t be heard or felt against his muscled chest. “It’s good to see you again,” he rumbled, pulling away to look you up and down, and his eyes landed on your bag. “I’ll take that for you.”

“Th– Thanks,” you stuttered; the proximity allowed you to stare into his grey-blue eyes, a mix of colours you wished to capture and keep.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours when he grabbed your bag, but he kept that same, priceless smile on his lips. “We started the princess marathon early, if you couldn’t tell,” he added, looking down at the ball of energy that was his daughter.

You grinned down at the little girl. “I can’t wait—I found so many things we can do, Starlet, and they all involve princesses.”

Starlet took off like a shot towards the front doors and into the house, her screech of glee loud enough to wake the neighbours — Bucky stood next to you wincing, while you rubbed your ear that was closest to the front door. The ringing only died down slightly.

“Oh, boy,” you muttered, “Someone’s a bit excited.”

Bucky laughed. The sound rich and something you terribly needed to hear again.

You looked at him, taking in his profile while he still stared towards the doorway of his home. The hair that looked almost black on the phone, was a deep, deep brown — where the sun bled through the surrounding trees, it shone a beautiful hazelnut. It was loose down his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed with only a few grey patches to be seen.

The sign of his age made him all the more attractive — allowing a sense of maturity and allure to his already swoon worthy appearance.

“So,” you hastily started, willing the heat that started to build in your stomach to simmer instead of boil. “You’re off for a full day in the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Bucky replied, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you up to his home. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings that I can’t put off any longer, given my associates and their… inability to manifest a sense of patience. And I don’t like taking Starlet if I can help it—she’s such an active girl and she hates sitting in the corner.”

“That’s fair.” The stairs beneath your feet exhumed luxury you felt you couldn’t even stand in the presence of. “Have you been looking for a babysitter for long–?”

Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Curious one, aren’t you, Fawn?”

“I–”

“I’m just messing with you, honey,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “And to answer you, yeah, I have. They all either were too uptight or couldn’t handle how hyperactive Starlet is—‘cause as you may have noticed, she’s a lot–”

“She is not!” You frowned and looked towards the inside of the house where Starlet was no doubt impatiently waiting for your presence. “She’s beautiful and sweet—creative and passionate, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks, honey,” he said softly, earnestly. The smile he gave you made butterflies erupt where there were flames only seconds ago.

Bucky walked you through the threshold of the front door, and you gasped loudly at the interior — it was a brightly lit, open spaced home with only counters and half walls to divide up the rooms, and there were numerous hallways that lead off of the main area. A grand staircase led to the upper floors.

“This is beautiful,” you said breathlessly, awestruck by the beauty. On the upper level, you heard the fast footsteps of a little girl running around, to gather things to show her new friend, you assumed, but what you focused on was Bucky’s prideful expression; a man that was happy and proud of the space he built for his family. “Really, really beautiful, Bucky. Wow.”

“You know how to make a fella feel special, Fawn,” he muttered bashfully with an accent you loved more than would ever admit to. A playful sense of amusement grew as you spotted a dusting of pink over his high cheekbones.

The air crackled with tension as Bucky looked up from the floor and into your eyes.

Before you could open your mouth and say something on instinct, Bucky looked towards the kitchen, then back at you. “Come here.”

He led you into the sprawling kitchen — the size of it far too big to comprehend with counter space akin to a working, industrial kitchen. A ringed index finger pointed to the fridge. “Now, before you go getting any ideas of spoiling Starlet rotten…”

There was a teasing tone to his voice, and it was raised to be loud enough for a certain pair of little ears to hear.

You looked to where he was pointing and saw a whiteboard hanging high on the door. Neat, orderly writing on one side; childish scrawl on the other. It had rules listed in bullet form: no extra chocolate, no extra sugar, in bed by eight…

“As you can see,” Bucky said, still in that raised tone. His eyes wandered to the upstairs loft that was above the kitchen, and you didn’t repress the urge to grin at him. “There are rules to follow, and Starlet agreed to them; do not let her convince you otherwise–”

“But daddy,” a petulant voice whined. You only just managed to stifle your laughter. “She didn’t have to know.”

“Starlet Barnes,” Bucky scolded, and the laughter you worked so hard to bite back almost broke free as he put his hands on his cocked hips, staring up at the loft. Your gaze followed his eye line and you saw the aforementioned troublemaker peering down between the railing, a deep pout on her lips. “You promised me you would behave, honey. Now come down here so I can say goodbye—daddy’s gotta go to work or he’ll be late.”

A loud whine followed Bucky’s words, and he shook his head before he looked at you. “Those are the rules, for her, anyway.”

You blinked. “What–”

The same fast footsteps from before now pelted down the stairs, and Starlet launched herself into Bucky’s arms, giggling as he lifted her small body from the floor and into the air with a grunt. “Are you going to behave for Fawn, honey?” he asked, resting Starlet on his side so her legs swung over his front and back. “You promised me you would, remember?”

Your heart swooped and lodged itself in your throat with the display of paternal affection.

“Yeah, I will,” Starlet replied, her small hands grabbing Bucky’s stubbled cheeks. “Daddy, you need to shave.”

No he does not, you thought privately.

“Thanks,” he replied, and he blew a raspberry on her chubby cheek. “Okay, be on your best behaviour; manners, honey, use them.”

“Mhm,” Starlet hummed. Bucky placed her gently down onto the floor, and her little, sparkled flats made a small click click sound as she walked towards you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”

You offered your hand to hold, and she took it eagerly, swinging your arm back and forth while Bucky grabbed his briefcase and bag. “I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t wait up for me,” he said to you. “Feel free to eat whatever or order in, my card is here–” He shoved a black card from his wallet into your free hand before you could protest. “And– Yeah, I’ll be back.”

“Bye, daddy!” Starlet called, pulling you along behind Bucky — who’s broad shoulders and muscled back was unfairly shown off by the cut of his shirt. “Talk to you later–”

“I promise, honey, I’ll call Fawn and say goodnight.” A dark blazer was pulled from its coat rack, and Bucky shrugged it on before he smoothed the wrinkles in the fabric, quicker than you could offer as you so desperately wanted to. “And in bed by eight, no later, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, and the look Bucky shot you made you gulp — pure heat blazed in his eyes, and the flames that licked up your spine you dampened before reignited with a roar. “We– We’ll be good,” you stammered, praying to anyone that would listen above that you could survive the night with that visual at the forefront of your mind.

Bucky smiled and walked back to kiss his daughter on the cheek. Then, to your absolute mix of horror and surprise, he kissed your forehead, too. “My good girls,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’ll talk to you later.”

And the door closed with a finality that left you reeling.

“Can we go colour?” Starlet asked innocently, her bright eyes blinking up at you. “Daddy said he left me the best pencils and you brought pens?”

“Uh– Yeah, yeah—sure, we can go colour, sweetheart,” you said. Focus, you reminded yourself inwardly.

For hours, you spent your time between the set of plush couches in the expansive living room and marathoning movies that ranged from cartoons to the most ridiculous animations, to a small child’s table — colouring with the closest thing you would ever come to spending time with royalty.

Starlet certainly took it in her stride to act like a princess.

“But daddy said I could–”

“Go look at the fridge,” you said, smirking — you knew for a fact that she was attempting to pull the wool over your eyes. A deceptive, little lamb. “Daddy put the rules up there and he said, before he left, that you agreed to them—didn’t you, Starlet?”

Small, pink lips pouted heartily, and she stomped off towards the fridge, her shoes thudding over the floor. “Ugh.”

“Ugh, indeed.”

The night began to wind down a few hours later, and after colouring the whole duration, you decided a movie would be the best course of action to break up the monotony and brewing tantrum in the wriggling girl opposite you.

As a treat, you allowed Starlet to play a movie while she ate — only after she swore to you that she wouldn’t tell Bucky. The ploy worked, for as well as any child loved the idea of a secret, she fell head over heels into the sworn secrecy and happily tucked into her dinner while the princesses on the TV screen sang another rendition of the chorus.

You couldn’t help but watch her from the kitchen counter, where you were tidying away the dishes. It was with curiosity you admired the similarities between Starlet and her father, what you found and discerned during the short time of knowing the pair of them.

Starlet had the same bright eyes, the colour of her irises as beautiful as her father’s with the addition of an irreplaceable hint of childish awe and wonder. Her hair fell in waves; shades of what you could only describe as beautiful in the strands that prominently populated her temples to crown.

A sudden sense of contentment flooded you while you continued to gaze at her. Being invited and accepted into such a space was rewarding.

It was evident that Starlet’s birth mother was no longer in the picture, and you never planned to ask or know more than what you were told, but still, you wondered how Bucky was not snatched up. He was a charming, sweet man that adored his daughter — you would be lying if you didn’t take to heart the imagined scenarios that played over and over in your mind, of what it would be like just to be part of such domestic bliss.

The loud chime of your phone startled you from your thoughts, and you exhaled sharply just as Starlet’s head peered up and over the back of the couch. “Is that daddy?”

You looked down at your phone’s screen, smiling, and said, “Yeah, hang on, I’ll come sit with you and we can talk to him.” The screen flashed with colour as you swiped to accept his video call, and you were greeted with his bright smile.

“Hey, Fawn,” Bucky said happily, though he looked exhausted — the furrow between his brow had deepened in his absence from home. “How are my girls, huh? Behaving, I hope.”

“We’re here, we just finished having dinner,” you said, angling the phone to show a distracted Starlet, sans her plate (that of which had hastily been placed on the coffee table in front of the couch), and then back to you. “Starlet jumped up on the couch with me to say hello.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so? Alright, where’s my little girl?”

Starlet scrambled to sit right beside you, and her happy expression filled the screen while you chuckled. “Daddy!”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his smile heart-warmingly fond. “Have you had a good day with Fawn?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding quickly. “We coloured and then watched movies and coloured more and–”

“A lot of princess duties,” you cut in, and Starlet giggled, her chubby cheeks turning pink with a blush. “We are in the presence of royalty, Sir Barnes.”

“Oh, do forgive me, your highness,” he replied with wide eyes. The camera shook as he moved, and you saw his desk top scattered with papers before the phone settled upright, pointing towards Bucky’s office chair. He bowed deeply — either intentionally, or ignorantly allowing his hair to fall over his face. When he looked up to the screen, loose tendrils of hair covered his forehead and danced over his eyes.

The last reserves of your self-preservation and dignity vanished as you tried to force your heart to not burst free from its new home in your throat — the way his eyes appeared through the slicked strands was an image you would never let escape.

“I humbly request an audience with the Princess.” Bucky neared the camera again, smirking — the bastard knew, you panicked.

Before you could spiral, beside you, Starlet said fiercely, “Of course, Sir Daddy.” She shifted to better look at the screen. “The Princess always has time for uh–”

“King, or knight,” you whispered into her ear.

“Knight!”

“How generous.” Bucky laughed heartily. He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands, showing off the glint of his rings and the generous muscle exposed on his forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. “Ah, my girls,” he sighed, looking into the camera. “I shouldn’t be too much longer—Uncle Stevie is being a punk–”

“Uncle Steeb!” Starlet squealed.

“Yes, uncle Steeb,” he echoed, and he looked off camera. “Get over here, she wants to see you.”

“Is that my favourite niece?” A second voice called, the volume increasing as they neared the desk. Starlet was positively vibrating out of her seat with excitement.

“Well, well, well,” they said, and suddenly, another handsome face came into view. He had blond hair that was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed — deep, blue eyes glanced between you and Starlet with interest. “It is—hey, Bug!”

“Uncle Steeb! Uncle Steeb!” Starlet launched herself at the phone to hug the device to her chest and toppled it from your grip. “Oh– I sorry–”

“Don’t you worry, honey,” you soothed, and you ruffled her hair. “Just be careful, okay? Hang on, let’s pick this up–” The phone had thankfully been undamaged in the fall, and you smiled at the two men staring up at you with concern.

“You two okay?” Bucky asked — he was poised as though to run at a seconds notice.

“Yeah, all is good,” you replied, settling back on the couch. “Here you are, sweetie.”

Starlet held the phone as though it was a priceless jewel, and she spoke to her father and apparent uncle with such vigour it was as though she hadn’t seen them in weeks, rather than just a day. The topics broached what the princesses in the movie did, to what she coloured — it was an endless tirade of excitement that only made you smile as you watched on.

Soon enough, she started to yawn, though she tried to minimise and hide them. A father’s keen eye was not to be underestimated, however. “Baby, I think you better get to bed—it is close to eight,” Bucky said softly.

You glanced at the top of your phone’s screen to check the time for yourself, and you blinked — it was only seven when he first called.

“I’ll be home soon, and I will come and kiss you goodnight, okay? Fawn can put you to bed; she’s pretty good at bedtime stories, I hear.”

She looked up at you through glazed eyes. “You are?”

“I am,” you confirmed with a proud nod. “Why don’t you say goodnight to daddy now and we can get you set up and comfy in bed?”

“‘Kay,” Starlet mumbled sleepily. “G’night, daddy. I love you.”

Bucky smiled. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll come give you a kiss when I get home, I promise.”

You ended the call with a promise to do your best impression of the characters for Bucky, and beside you, Starlet sighed happily. “I love daddy; I love uncle Steeb.”

“I see that,” you chuckled quietly. “Now, c’mon, up you get—bedtime for her highness.”

It turned out to be a smooth, tantrum-free process, readying Starlet for sleep — she followed your guidance to a tee and had the independence to fit her title when it came time to pick out her favourite pyjamas.

She settled into the cocoon of blankets and plush toys that took up more room than her own small self on her bed, and you smiled down at her as you sat on the edge. Her small hand in yours made your heart leap.

There was a strange glint in her eye when she uttered your name sleepily. You raised a brow in curiosity. “Yes, honey?”

“Are you daddy’s friend?”

“Yes,” you said honestly, smiling. “Your daddy is a kind, thoughtful man. I am happy to be his friend—why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I–” She swallowed and furrowed her small brows. “He told me one time that there are special friends, and I– I–”

“Oh, Starlet– No, no honey,” you rushed, desperately smothering the rising panic in your chest at her implementation — the curious nature of a child was never to be scolded, but you did not think you could stomach this conversation, not on the first damned night of being under his employment. “I work for your daddy, and my job is to look after you when he can’t, okay? That doesn’t mean I am, uh– A special friend of your daddy’s.”

As much as I wish to be, you whined internally — though saying that aloud would be catastrophic, you had no doubt about that. Focus.

“Oh.” That same thoughtful gleam returned in her eyes, and you braced for another round of interrogation — as intimidating as a child’s questions could be. “Well, I think you would be a nice special friend for daddy. He smiles a lot when he sees you.”

It was your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. Words failed and escaped you; scattering to the winds, never to be seen again, while Starlet did nothing but stare up at you innocently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

“Uh– Ha, well.” You coughed and leaned back a little, willing your mind to connect back with an acceptable train of thought. “Um– Thank you, thank you for that, sweetheart. That’s very sweet of you.”

Starlet beamed, brighter than the stars above. “You’re welcome.”

When she finally dozed off to sleep after your indulgent tale of Rapunzel, you padded ever so quietly from her bedroom and carefully closed the door with a soft click behind you.

You only made it a few steps towards the staircase before you had to stop and think — the dull thump of your back and shoulders hitting the wall made you grimace and look to Starlet’s door, though she did not rouse.

“Oh my fucking god,” you rasped, rubbing your face with your hands, distorting the sound of your distress. “Goddammit all, ugh.”

Desperation and pure want clawed at your insides, savaging your attempts to control your impulses; the need for Bucky’s attention blew out of proportion tenfold with the words from his daughter.

Carefully, you tiptoed down the stairs, one by one, until you stood in the kitchen.

“He smiles—he smiles when he talks about me,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet sound of your feet padding over the tile grew in volume while you paced back and forth. “Bucky smiles—oh fucking hell.”

A war raged in your mind, split equal sides by morality and need; one side dead set on preventing you from making a fool of yourself, the other hell bent on allowing you in the indulgence of recklessness.

The possibility of it all not backfiring upon you was slim at best, but something nagged– No, pulled at your thoughts: what if Bucky felt the same?

“No, no,” you said aloud, grimacing. “That’s not possible—I can’t– He can’t, he’s older, successful–”

Your tirade was interrupted by a sudden beep from the security panel by the front door. “Front gate opened.”

“Shit.” You rushed to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The fancy SUV that was parked next to your car before pulled into the driveway, headlights on and engine purring.

A heavy exhale of relief fell from your lips, and you resolutely decided to push the dilemma of his affection to the side; a project for the back burner that was your ever running mind.

The SUV parked and fell silent, the headlights and taillights dimming, and you turned back around towards the kitchen to heat up two plates of dinner in the oven — silently thanking your decision to make extra.

Footsteps sounded by the front door, and it swung open, not even creaking. “Fawn?” Bucky called quietly, his voice lowered so as to not awake Starlet upstairs. “Honey, where are you?”

“Kitchen—getting dinner for us.”

Soft footfalls came from the entryway and towards the kitchen, when Bucky rounded the corner. You smiled at him, which he returned tiredly. “Hey, how was Starlet? You okay?”

“She was great, we had fun, and she was sweet. I learned that Rapunzel is far superior over Sleeping Beauty, but nothing, of course, beats her ultimate favourite.” The oven behind you beeped, and you turned to open it and fetch the dish of food, but Bucky put a hand on your elbow and gestured for you to continue with your tale as he grabbed the oven mitts. “And she tried to worm more chocolate out of me, naturally.”

Bucky’s laugh sounded rich and deep, a sound you wished you could hear over and over. “I knew she would.” The dish in his hands was placed onto the countertop, and you set to cutting portions to eat; surreptitiously making sure Bucky had more than his fair share.

“Do you want to watch–”

“Why don’t we sit on the–”

The two of you stared at one another, eyes wide and smiles playing at the corners of your lips. “You first,” Bucky offered, chuckling quietly.

“I, uh– Do you want to sit on the couch–?”

“Sure, honey,” he replied, and he picked up your plate with his free hand. “Grab us a drink?”

You took a deep breath when Bucky turned his back to you. You’ve got this, you intoned.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and you were grateful for it — while it was your job and your pleasure to look after Bucky’s daughter, the little girl sure had boundless amounts of energy, and it was hard work keeping up with her.

After clearing your plate, you set it down onto the coffee table. Bucky was still going, so you settled into the plush cushions and watched the plain, mindless show without taking it in.

“Fawn, sweetheart?” Bucky whispered suddenly; voice close enough that you could feel the exhale of breath with his words.

You startled and blinked rapidly — the room was dark, the TV off and the lights dimmed.

“There you are,” Bucky cooed. He was sitting right next to you, his hand on your knee as he half faced you. “You fell asleep, honey—you feeling okay?”

“Oh– I, uh– Shit, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, sitting up. The blackened screen of the TV reflected the clock in the kitchen to show that it was only nine at night. “I better go—you no doubt want to go to sleep soon after such a big day–”

“Fawn, hey– Stop, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed, and he put a hand on your shoulder — the heat from his palm made your mind whirr with possibilities. “It’s okay. I let you sleep; you looked dead on your feet. I only woke you up because I thought you’d want to go home to your partner.”

Heat bloomed over your chest and up your neck, the way Bucky was staring at you made something stir that you would much rather stay dormant. “I, uh– Don’t have a partner, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.

The silence could have engulfed you whole — tension billowed in the air, and you fidgeted, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said eventually, and you shivered at the sound of his voice; lowered an octave and raspy with what you guessed was shock. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have assumed. But let’s get you home, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, getting to your feet.

Bucky handed you your bag, all neatly packed and organised, and walked you to the front door and down the front steps. “I don’t mean to presume, but can I ask you back again to watch Starlet–?” he asked, looking at you.

“Of course,” you blurted, and you meant it. “She was a fun bundle of energy, and you know how to contact me if you need me again.”

You tried, wholeheartedly, to fight the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as Bucky opened your car door, and then took your bag to place it in the trunk. In a roundabout way, you wished he would be insufferable, even arrogant in his disposition — it would have made it easier to banish the swelling crescendo of want that started to consume you.

“Will you message me when you get home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, nodding. “I– I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bucky brought you close in an embrace you returned, and you savoured the warmth of his body; the feel of his arms around you as he held you tight.

Though it had to end.

You pulled away, out of his hold, and moved to sit in the driver’s seat of your car.

“Get home safe, Fawn.” Bucky closed the door after you tucked your feet into the well, and he leaned against the side of your car.

“I will.” You smiled up at him, and then you turned the keys in the ignition.

The car spluttered and clunked back to silence. Bucky was looking towards the hood of your car with concern. “Oh, it’s just temperamental,” you said to reassure him, and yourself.

You tried again; you tried a third time, but there was only a piteous groan from the engine before it gave in, falling silent each time. “Great, just great,” you muttered angrily, cursing your luck that carried on from when the car first showed signs of kicking the bucket. “Fuck.”

“Pop the bonnet,” Bucky said, adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll take a look.”

Oh, boy, you groaned internally at the sight of his forearms flexing again, but you complied.

The metal creaked and groaned its protest of movement when Bucky pulled the hood up, locking it in place with one hand while the other dug into the engine bay. A determined frown pulled his pretty lips at the corner. “The old girl is on her last legs,” he gritted out through clenched teeth while he fiddled and yanked at parts of the engine. “The mounts are close to giving out and it looks like the battery is… well, fucked.”

You sighed, the sound hitching on a frustrated sob. “Can you– Can you call me a cab? I’ll get someone to come tow it in the morning, or something–”

“Fawn,” Bucky said fiercely, and he looked at you while he closed the hood of your traitorous car. “Do you think I’m going to send you home with some stranger when you’re clearly and rightfully upset?”

“But–”

“But fucking nothing, sweetheart,” he insisted, his tone somehow soft — like he cared. “Please, I have a spare bedroom—fuck, I have several, and you are welcome to any one of them until we can get you home tomorrow.”

The use of a curse drove his point home, so did the earnest glare in his eyes.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you gestured at yourself. “But I haven’t brought clothes– What about Starlet in the morning? She doesn’t know–” She will get the wrong idea; Bucky doesn’t know what she’s said, you silently fretted, but there was no way to give voice to your worries, not in your distress.

“Honey, please, you can use some of my old clothes—they’ll be comfortable, and you’ll be modest. Just let me help you,” Bucky implored. He held a hand out, an offering to guide you back inside. “We can work it all out in the morning. I’m off tomorrow, and hell, Starlet would love having a friend over for breakfast—it’s pancakes and bacon.”

“That does sound pretty good,” you murmured, wringing your hands. The nagging feeling of imposing upon his hospitality would not dissipate, though. “Are you sure? I–”

Bucky shook his head, an exasperated smile on his lips. “C’mere, Fawn,” he said, and he slung his arm over your shoulder. You attempted to clamp your jaw shut around the shocked sound in your throat. “I’m sure. I can’t leave my Fawn high and dry; not when I can help.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you allowed Bucky to lead you back into the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Without a word, he paused at the top of the stairs and retracted his arm, hanging it by his side as he walked towards a larger, single door — you moved to follow him, but he placed his index finger over his lips, before he disappeared behind it. The house was silent in the absence of Starlet’s giggles and rambling rants of royalty, and you found yourself fidgeting in place while you waited for that door to open again.

As though he heard you, Bucky opened the door and walked towards you, offering a worn, soft, black henley, and a pair of dark sweats. “Back in my twenties,” he began, smiling down at the offered clothes, “I was twice the size—fucking obsessed with vanity. But these will be comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking the offered clothes. The movement made your fingers brush against his, and something changed — the air grew thick with crackling energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “I– I will, uh, talk to you in the morning?”

Bucky nodded and stepped back; you tried not to whine from the loss of his proximity — luck was not on your side. Something must have shown of your inward pleading in your expression.

“Fawn?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “You okay, sweetheart? You look–” He licked his lips, the action drawing your whole attention. “You look lost.”

“I’m fine,” you replied weakly, and you nodded once as though it would make it reality. Truthfully, you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole — the late hour naturally stripped you of your inhibitions, and God…

You cursed temptation to the high heavens.

“You sure?” Bucky asked, and he stepped closer again, his presence looming near enough to make your heart thunder against the confines of your throat.

“Mhm.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, and stepped forward again — you stepped back, forcing yourself not to melt onto the floor with how your knees shook. “Sweetheart… There’s something you’re not tellin’ me.”

The sudden dryness in your throat made you cough, and your eyes watered with the reflex. Bucky stepped closer and you backtracked until your heels hit the skirting board, your shoulders and back following close behind. “I– Ja– I mean, Bucky–”

His hands moved to either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. “Yeah?”

Your mouth parted in shock, but nothing came to mind to defend yourself, or any urge to push him away.

Bucky hummed, tilting his head. “Fawn, you know if this isn’t okay you are more than welcome to knee me where the sun doesn’t shine—but look at you.” The breathy quality of Bucky’s voice made your stomach knot with arousal.

This was wrong, your mind screamed; this is what you want, your heart shouted.

“You’re desperately fighting against something, I see it; it's in your pretty eyes, baby,” he purred. “Talk to me—tell me what’s wrong, why are you fightin’?”

Bucky’s face loomed closer to yours, his lips parted only slightly, and you prayed for strength as you fisted his shirt, to pull or push him away, you couldn’t decipher — he was so, so close, if only you just reached out–

“What are you fightin’, my little Doe?”

“Oh– Bucky, please–” Thoughts swirled and escaped your grasp, faster than you could claim the words and the will to do the right damned thing. “Please, I– Hmph!”

His lips claimed yours, the softness of them insistent, desperate, and you moaned into his mouth from the rush of adrenaline. “Yes,” you breathed against his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck, forgoing your hold on his clothes.

The sweetness of Bucky’s lips made you chase them when he tried to pull back; you were starved for more, and he obliged your hunger by pushing you harder into the wall, his hands moving down your shoulders, your sides, to settle on your hips with a bruising grip.

Bucky’s tongue brushed along your bottom lip, and you moaned again, letting your tongue dance with his; the relief of finally allowing yourself to give into the urge you’d been constraining against was liberating in every manner, even if it were risky, you were determined to make the best of it.

It was only when he pulled back for breath did you realise he had been pawing at your hip and ass, the fabric bunched in his fists while he panted for air. “Fuck,” he murmured, and he started to laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest through the gasps for air. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that,” you agreed breathlessly. “Fuck.”

The two of you stood in silence, catching your breaths, and you waited for the fall out of it all; the implosion that lurked around the corner.

“Fawn,” Bucky said quietly, and his index finger brushed along the underside of your chin; grey, inky eyes met yours with such intensity you almost collapsed under the heat of them. “I want you, baby—I wouldn’t have gambled my chances if I didn’t even have a hunch of what was going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“How did–”

“Never you mind, sweetheart. I’ve had my fair few rodeos with this; I can read you like a book.” The soft press of his lips against your forehead made your heart flutter. “Why don’t you get some sleep, hmm? We can talk in the morning—bright eyed and bushy tailed.” His quiet chuckle made your lips quirk up in a smile. “There’s my girl.”

You were unable to form the words to express the inner turmoil that brewed — that had been the best kiss of your life, Bucky liked you back, you hadn’t lost your job as you thought you would, and you were standing in Bucky’s home with an assortment of his clothes to wear while you slept.

“Fawn, baby,” Bucky teased, and he pulled you away from the wall. His hands rubbed down your arms before he knelt and picked up his discarded clothes, handing them to you with a smile. “Go to bed—you look like you’ve seen a ghost and been given the best news all at once. Get some sleep.”

The bedroom he guided you towards was spacious and just as luxurious as what you had seen of the rest of his home. Light colours filled the room; pastels and darker pops of paint made it contrast in a tasteful way, while the linen and pillows looked divine. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest and a smile on his swollen lips. “If you need anything, sweetheart, I’m just down there,” he said, pointing down the hall, back towards the room with the larger door. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”

You looked at him, blinked, then smiled. “Yeah– Yeah, goodnight, Bucky.”

Relief, elation, fear all flooded you at once as you sidled up the mattress and under the covers. They drowned you beneath the waves of overwhelming thoughts of what would happen now; fear for what your future held.

Would it include Bucky? What would Starlet think?

It all amounted to the sheer relief that while you hadn’t initiated the risk, it happened, and your courage bound and leaped with joy for it.

And if you did a little squeal of joy and grinned wide enough to make your cheeks hurt as you tucked yourself into the plush blankets to sleep, it was nobody's business but your own.

the next part is already written. 😉🤭

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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duckybarnes1917 · 4 months

Text

Ahh thank you 🥰

Deal With It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson/Female Reader

18+ ONLY.

A/N: I wanted to write a snowed in fic and I'm a whore for these men. I chose this gif because I want to be that pipe they're working on.

Word count: 5k pwp

Summary: Bucky is stuck at yours and Sam's apartment during an unprecedented winter storm. It may be freezing outside but things between the three of you are heating up pretty quickly.

Need to know: snowed in, one bed (a different take on it), slight exhibitionism, male masturbation, m/m anal sex, oral sex (m and f), light bondage, sex belt, slightly dom Sam, light angst, fluff, double penetration, poly relationship, fluffy ending

Please reblog and leave a comment to encourage me to continue being a slut and sharing it all with you :D

Bucky winced, grabbing his side as Sam hauled him upstairs to the cozy apartment Sam shared with you. Bucky had tried several times to convince Sam he was fine–he didn’t want to impose himself on you, but Sam was stubborn.

“Almost there, can’t believe the power went out,” Sam huffed, his lungs wishing they were in the elevator. “This storm will be just as nasty as the cut on your side.”

Bucky grunted a response, barely making it up the last few steps.

Sam knocked on the door. “Baby, it’s me! Bucky’s hurt!”

Bucky looked up as you pulled the door open; he never wanted to miss a second of your pretty face. You looked so concerned, scanning him from head to toe before you even greeted your boyfriend.

“Come in, come in, lay him on the couch.” You ushered them inside and moved some of your candles to the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really,” Bucky grimaced as Sam sat him on the couch. “I should get home before the storm gets worse.”

You and Sam ignored him, disappearing into the bedroom to gather medical supplies. This wasn’t the first time the three of you had been in this situation. Sometimes it was you and Bucky patching up Sam, Bucky apologizing profusely for returning him to you in less than perfect condition.

He could hear you nagging Sam about what happened, asking Sam how he had let Bucky get this hurt. His heart swelled; you sounded like you cared–like he was important to you.

You came back into view, bundled up in one of Sam’s hoodies and probably more than one pair of sweats, pink and white polka-dot fuzzy socks on your feet. The blizzard blowing in was no joke, especially now that there was no heat in the apartment.

“Shirt off, sweetheart. We’ve got to hurry before you lose too much body heat. The power has already been out for hours—no telling when it’ll come back on.”

Bucky both loved and hated that you called him that–you were touching him so tenderly he almost didn’t feel the pain anymore. As you stitched him up, all he could think about was how badly he wanted you to be his. Of course, he felt guilty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wished you looked at him the same way you looked at Sam, about how he wanted to be the one you tackled in a hug when he and Sam returned from a mission.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to Sam. “Yeah?”

“You good? Looked like you were staring at my girl pretty hard there.”

Bucky’s face flushed, Sam had a teasing smile on his lips, but that just made it worse. “I–I wasn’t–”

“Sam, stop it,” you chided. “Go get him some blankets.”

“It’s okay; I don’t blame you, Buck. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Sam!” Now you were blushing, quickly packing up the first aid kit. “I’m sure Bucky has his own person to stare at.”

Sam snorted, throwing a hoodie and a few blankets at Bucky. “No, actually, he doesn’t. I’ve tried to help him; he’s stubborn.”

Bucky slowly pulled on a long sleeve shirt and then Sam’s hoodie. “No more stubborn than you.”

From the kitchen, you watched them bicker, rolling your eyes. This was their way of expressing love. Long ago, when you started dating Sam, you quickly realized that Bucky would be a big part of your relationship. If you had a spare bedroom, you were convinced he would be living in it. His constant presence, either physically or intangibly in Sam’s thoughts, never bothered you. Bucky was a perfect gentleman, bringing you flowers, offering to cook dinner and clean the dishes. And Sam needed him in a way you might not ever truly understand. It didn’t hurt that he looked like he was carved from marble—you’d seen him with his shirt off more than on, it seemed.

You brought Bucky some pain reliever and a bottle of water. “Try to get some sleep, okay? Hopefully, the power comes back on soon.”

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky swallowed the pills and pulled the three blankets Sam had given him up to his chin. “Thanks, Sam,” he mumbled, already drifting to sleep.

A few days passed, and the weather only got worse. The city was covered in snow and ice. Everything was closed. Rolling power outages kept the apartment from warming up thoroughly, but it was better than nothing. The near below freezing temperature in the apartment meant that Bucky had spent the last few days cuddling with you and Sam on the couch. Somehow, between three layers of clothes, gloves, and blankets, he could still feel how soft you were next to him. Bucky had tried to leave if only to get away from the pain of having you so close yet so far away. But, you and Sam insisted that he stay.

His wound was long healed, now just another scar added to his collection. You were running your fingers over it, amazed at how fast he healed and totally clueless to your touch's effect on him.

“Stop caressing my best friend,” Sam teased, sitting on the other side of Bucky.

“I’m not! I just–it’s cool. Sorry.” You pulled his hoodie back down and turned away in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, doll. Sam’s just jealous–I never let him caress my abs.”

Your laugh was music to Bucky’s ears; he was so focused on your face that he didn’t notice Sam noticing the way he looked at you.

Bucky was fucked; he just didn’t know it yet.

Bucky awoke to the sound of your moaning; he heard Sam discarding your clothes and realized that the heater was on—the apartment wasn’t freezing for once.

Sam must have been doing something amazing because the noises you were making had Bucky’s dick stiff so quickly he had no choice but to slip his hand under his sweats.

The next thing he heard made his brows furrow in confusion–was that rope? Did you like to be tied up?

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered to himself.

He could tell Sam was inside you now; his low groan was indication enough. Soon the headboard was hitting the wall rhythmically, and Bucky was stroking himself in time with each thrust.

“Sam, slow down,” you gasped. “Bucky will hear.”

Bucky groaned, too loud when his name passed your lips.

“Don’t care,” Sam huffed. “Been too long since I’ve got to fuck you properly. Besides, he’s probably enjoying it.”

Bucky didn’t even feel ashamed, it would be awkward in the morning, but right now, he needed this. It had been far too long since he’d had sex. He had tried to use the many apps Sam set him up with, but Bucky needed more than just a stranger to get him off. He could never let himself be vulnerable enough to really enjoy it. So, right now, he would settle for getting off to hearing Sam split you in two.

“You like that he’s listening, don’t you? Should I invite him in here? Let him have a turn after I make a mess of this little pussy?”

You and Bucky both groaned at the suggestion. Would he really? Would you let him?

Bucky pushed himself closer to the edge as he listened to you and Sam finish together. But then everything went quiet, and he sat up quickly when Sam opened the bedroom door. They stared at each other for a moment before Sam’s face broke into a large smile.

“What do you say, Buck? Wanna join us?”

Bucky swallowed hard, not sure if Sam was joking.

Sam turned his head to speak to you. “Go on, tell him you want him, baby.”

“Bucky, sweetheart? Please–need you.”

Bucky was on his feet in a flash; the sound of your voice, so sweet, begging for him was almost enough to make him finish untouched.

Sam guided him to the foot of the bed–Bucky’s eyes couldn’t take you in fast enough. Sam had tied your wrists together, your arms stretched over your head. Your knees were up and pushed together, your fuzzy socks slouching around your ankles.

“Let him see, baby.” Sam pushed your legs apart.

Bucky nearly dropped to his knees at the sight of you–Sam’s seed slowly dripping out of you. He reached a hand out, wanting to touch you but paused, looking to you for permission. You nodded, and he gently ran his fingertips over your leg until he reached your hip. That was when he noticed the pink leather belt around your waist. Handles attached to each side.

“What’s this?” Bucky looked back at Sam.

Sam stepped forward, pushing Bucky flush against the foot of the bed. “This is a sex belt; it helps you get as deep in her little pussy as possible.”

Bucky bit his lip, holding back a groan, but Sam’s hand caressing the bulge in his sweats was unexpected, and the groan flew out.

“Is this okay?” Sam whispered in his ear.

Bucky nodded and gasped when Sam swiftly pulled Bucky’s sweats down. His hand now caressing him through his underwear.

“Baby,” you whined, wriggling your hips.

“She wants to see me touch you. Do you want that too?”

“Please,” Bucky whispered hesitantly.

Sam pulled his boxers down, and Bucky’s chest puffed a little at the moan you let out.

“Knew you’d have a fat cock, pretty boy.” Sam wrapped his hand around Bucky’s shaft, spreading the precum slowly.

Bucky pulled off his hoodie and the two shirts he had on underneath. He could feel Sam’s erection pressed against his back–this was quickly becoming too much. He yelped when Sam slapped his right ass cheek, grabbing the flesh roughly as his hand sped up.

“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted this? You’re such a tease–acting like you don’t know the effect you have on me.”

“Wha–Sam, I didn’t–” Bucky groaned as Sam’s teeth sunk into his neck.

“It’s okay, baby boy. You gonna make it up to me now?”

Bucky opened his eyes as you whined, struggling against your restraints. “Yes,” he huffed, his hands moving to touch you.

Sam slapped his hand away. “I didn’t say you could touch her yet.”

Bucky whined when Sam moved away. “I’m sorry!”

“You see how good she’s being, so quiet?” Sam pinched your nipple, and you had to bite your tongue to stay quiet.

Bucky nodded, his mouth watering at the sight of you. “Yes, I’ll be good.”

Sam hummed with approval, standing behind Bucky again, this time with a bottle of lube. “Bend over, don’t touch her.”

Bucky did as he was told, his hands resting on either side of your hips, the tip of his cock almost touching you.

You wanted to beg, your skin felt on fire from the lack of touch, but you knew better. Biting your lip to contain your whines, you lifted your hips, smearing Bucky’s precum over your stomach.

“God, Sam, please,” Bucky begged, watching your movement with rapt attention as Sam lubed him up.

“What do you need, baby boy?”

“Please, can I touch her?”

“No.” Sam pulled Bucky back and slowly slid his cock into him. “Not yet.”

Bucky cried out; the pain was overwhelming. He’d never taken a cock as thick as Sam’s, but soon the pain dulled into pleasure as Sam let him adjust.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes, please move!”

Bucky’s hands landed on your thighs as Sam started to slide in and out of him, slowly at first. His eyes remained locked on yours, smirking at the desperation he saw.

Sam lifted Bucky’s head. “Look at her, look how bad she wants to be you right now.”

Bucky’s heart twisted–you were crying silently as your hips wriggled on the bed.

“Please,” Bucky begged for you.

“Touch her, make my girl feel good.”

Bucky climbed onto the bed, giving Sam no choice but to follow, kneeling behind him while Bucky shoved his tongue inside you.

Your back arched, a scream of relief leaving your lungs. It had been torture watching these two beefy men being so intimate, talking about you like you weren’t there, and giving you nothing.

But Sam hadn’t told Bucky to tongue fuck you; he yanked Bucky’s head back, making you sob out in protest.

“Did I tell you to taste her?”

“No, sor–sorry!”

“Sam, baby, please!” You wailed.

“Fine, finish her; don’t you dare come before she does.” Sam pushed Bucky’s head back down, pounding into him faster than before.

Watching Bucky lick every drop of Sam’s come out of you was so deliciously filthy. You could already feel your orgasm approaching like a train barreling down the tracks—inescapable. You were so close; your hands were itching to bury themselves in Bucky’s hair. But then he stopped, mumbling against you that he was gonna come.

“Bucky, fuck, please don’t stop!” You tried to move your hips back up to his mouth, but he was too far gone to focus.

“I’m sorry, Sam, please, I gotta come!”

“You don’t tell me when you’re gonna come,” Sam huffed, slapping Bucky’s hand away as he tried to stroke himself.

“Please,” Bucky begged again as he felt his balls tightening. “I can’t hold it. I’m sorry.”

Bucky sounded so broken, so desperate that Sam took pity on him and stopped his movements, giving Bucky enough of a break to focus on you again.

“Thank you, thank you,” Bucky whispered before diving back into your delicious pussy. He had never tasted anything better; he could stay right there all night and be satisfied.

“I’m gonna come, fuck! Use your fingers, Bucky.” You shook your head as Bucky slid two warm fingers into you. “Metal ones,” you gasped.

“They’re not metal,” Sam laughed.

“Vibranium, whatever! Just—fuck!” Your back arched again as the cold vibranium stretched you out, and Bucky focused his mouth on your swollen clit.

Bucky’s cock twitched painfully as you came, grinding your hips against his face and moaning his name.

Sam started moving again, pulling Bucky up to his knees so he could stroke him. “You wanna come now, baby boy?”

“Yes, fuck please!” He thrust his hips forward; his red tip brushing against your wet folds made him want to cry.

“You want to come on her little pussy?” Sam growled in his ear, his hips faltering.

Bucky tipped his head back, a low groan leaving his throat.

“Go on, come with me, baby boy.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Bucky forced his head forward to watch his come paint your pussy and stomach as Sam grunted and released behind him.

You were all silent for a moment, heavy breathing filling the room as you all came down.

“Was that good, Bucky?” Sam asked hesitantly, gently rubbing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah–so good,” Bucky choked out. He sat on his knees, burying his face in his hands. The tears came out of nowhere, and he couldn’t stop them.

Sam froze; he looked at you for guidance.

“Untie me,” you said urgently.

Sam quickly undid the bonds on your wrists and took the leather belt off your waist. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shaking frame. Sam joined, resuming his spot behind Bucky and wrapping his arms around the both of you.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, rubbing Bucky’s arm while Sam massaged the back of his neck. “You’re safe; it’s okay.”

Bucky slumped against you more, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Did I hurt you?” Sam asked.

“No! No, I’m sorry, I just–”

“Shh, just relax; we’ve got you.” Sam placed a kiss on Bucky’s neck before pulling back.

Bucky reached back quickly, grabbing Sam’s arm. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m just gonna clean you guys up, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Bucky slowly let go, letting you pull him down to the bed. Sam returned with warm towels, cleaning you up first before moving on to Bucky. The tenderness of it made Bucky want to cry again.

Sam pulled his boxers back on and tossed Bucky his. He brought you a hoodie, sliding it over your head for you.

“I’ll be right back,” Sam whispered, kissing your lips before slipping out of the room.

“I should–I should go,” Bucky started to get off the bed.

“No, Bucky, please. I need to cuddle after, stay?” You laid back on your pillow, your arms open for him.

How could he possibly deny you?

He settled back against your side, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

“You wanna talk about it, sweetheart?”

Bucky tilted his head up, your earnest face breaking down every wall he had put up. “It’s been a while since anyone has touched me like that. I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

You carded your hands through his hair, staying quiet to encourage him to keep talking.

“I’m not sure if this is okay.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, I mean–I–” Bucky sat up on his elbow, his fingers running over your jaw. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, doll. I can’t do that to Sam.”

Bucky was taken back by the giggle that left your pretty mouth. “Oh, Bucky, you think he doesn’t know that?”

Sam returned, offering you and Bucky both a bottle of water. “How are we feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Bucky groaned as he chugged his water.

“Me too.” Sam laid next to Bucky, cuddling against his back.

“Go on, Buck, you weren’t finished telling me what’s going on in your head.” You pushed his hair out of his face.

“Sam was right; he’s tried to help me find someone, but–I can’t ever get out of my own head. I need someone I feel safe with.”

“And you feel safe with us?” Sam whispered, his arm reaching out to caress yours.

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t think this was possible for me; thank you.”

Bucky was taken aback when your lips softly collided with his. He kissed you back with so much passion you were dizzy when Sam pulled him away. Bucky found his head tilted back to Sam, their lips meeting with just as much passion.

Sam pulled back, sitting up to kiss you next. “Sleep now; it’s late. We can talk more in the morning.”

Bucky melted into the mattress; he was convinced that even if the heater hadn’t been working, the warmth you and Sam were showing him would have been more than enough to keep him from freezing.

Bucky was sure he was dreaming–he had this dream before; your warm mouth wrapped around him as you knelt between his knees. He would wake up frustrated and disappointed that you weren’t really there.

He reached down, his eyes still closed, expecting to find his usual morning wood but instead finding your soft hair. He blinked his eyes open rapidly–this was not a dream. Last night had really happened.

“Good morning, doll,” Bucky said breathlessly as you looked up at him, a lazy smile on his face.

“Good morning,” Sam said gruffly, leaning over to flick his tongue over Bucky’s nipple.

“God,” Bucky groaned, dipping his head back against the pillows.

It was taking everything in him not to thrust up into your mouth. He had never in his life had his dick sucked like this. How could something so dirty feel so–tender.

Each flick of your tongue made him twitch, your lips wrapped so tightly around his base as your tongue moved up and down slowly.

Sam wasn’t helping, his hands and mouth touching nearly everything else. “She feels amazing, doesn’t she?” Sam rasped in Bucky’s ear.

“Please, Sam,” Bucky huffed. “Please, can I come?”

“Good boy,” Sam kissed his cheek. “Make him come, baby, swallow it all.”

With Sam’s direction, you upped your ministrations, reaching up to place Bucky’s hand on your neck. He took the hint, pushing you down as he thrust up.

“Feels so good, doll, oh god. Fucking–dreamt about this every night.” Bucky’s hips sped up, chasing his high as you moaned around him.

“Go on, Buck. Let her taste you.”

Bucky did as Sam said, holding you in place while he came. “Oh, thank you, Jesus, that was amazing.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you said with a smile, licking your lips. “Come here, baby, you have to get a taste.”

Bucky groaned as Sam leaned forward and let you shove your tongue in his mouth.

“Okay, I get to wake him up tomorrow morning.” Sam turned over his shoulder and winked at Bucky.

“Tomorrow?” Bucky questioned, sitting up on his elbows.

You moved to his side, folding your legs underneath you. “Only if you want to, Bucky.” You caressed his chest. “We can stop right now and never do this again if that’s what you want.”

Sam turned Bucky’s head toward him when he didn’t answer. “But, if you want, we’d like you to stay.”

“Until the storm is over?”

Sam laughed and shook his head, turning Bucky back toward you.

“Bucky–we want you. We want you to be here every morning and every night. Not just for sex.”

Bucky looked between you and Sam like he wasn’t sure he was awake.

“I’m not fucking with you, Buck.”

Bucky stared at Sam until he was satisfied that this wasn’t an elaborate joke.

“So, like a relationship?”

“Exactly like a relationship.” You kissed his cheek gently. “Do you want that?”

“Yes,” Bucky reached for you again, kissing you deeply before turning on his side to give Sam the same treatment.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Sam asked, stroking Bucky’s hair.

“Sam,” you interrupted, your hand roaming significantly lower on Bucky’s body than Sam’s was. “He’s still hard.”

Bucky took a sharp inhale as you palmed him over his boxers.

Sam looked down and back up at Bucky. “The serum?”

“Something like that,” Bucky huffed with a smirk.

Sam returned the smile. “Today is about you, baby boy. Tell me what you want.”

Bucky licked his lips; he knew exactly what he wanted–but he was still nervous.

“You want her?” Sam grabbed your wrist, bringing your hand up to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“I’m yours, Bucky.” You pushed his shoulder down, moving him to his back.

“Wait,” Bucky sat up before you could climb in his lap. “Can we use the belt?”

Sam laughed shortly, “of course, come here.”

You laid down in the space Bucky vacated and put your hands above your head. Sam showed Bucky how to tie your wrists together, gentle but firm. Then he showed him how to put the belt on your waist. Watching them both prep you had you dripping onto the sheets. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening–that you got to have them both.

“She’s getting antsy, Buck. You ready?”

Bucky’s fingers were trailing over your skin slowly, but he made no move to get between your legs.

“You first,” he said sheepishly to Sam.

“What was that?” Sam tilted Bucky’s chin up. “You want me to leave a nice mess for you, is that it?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, please,” he whispered.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Alright, baby boy. You sit right there and watch how she likes it, okay?”

Bucky nodded, sitting next to you; he would never get tired of watching you both like this. Your arms straining against your restraints, Sam’s abs flexing with every deep thrust into you.

“Touch me, Bucky,” you gasped as Sam picked up his pace.

Bucky looked to Sam for confirmation, unknowingly making his dick impossibly harder inside you.

“Give her what she wants.”

Bucky realized this was the first time he was touching you in this way; his hands eagerly grabbed at your soft flesh, squeezing and sucking on every inch he could reach. The cacophony of sound of you and Sam finishing together gave Bucky more pleasure than he thought possible.

“Come here,” Sam rasped, waving Bucky toward him.

Once he was satisfied that Bucky was close enough, Sam pulled out of you, both men watching Sam’s come spill out of you. Being so on display made your cheeks burn, and you had to fight the urge to close your legs. Instead, you focused on the amazement and adoration on their faces. They would never fail to make you feel desired, beautiful, like you were the center of their universe.

“Your turn,” Sam whispered against Bucky’s ear.

Bucky took Sam’s place, leaning over you to kiss your lips as he slowly slid into you.

“Oh no, oh fucking hell.” He wasn’t even halfway in. He thought the blowjob would have helped him last longer. He was wrong–he couldn’t have anticipated how earth-shatteringly good it would feel to stick his dick in a tight pussy for the first time in forever. And the fact that it was you he was having this experience with heightened everything.

He froze, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to calm down. Sam’s strong hands gripped Bucky’s hips, pushing him all the way in.

“Oh god, Sam, no! I can’t!” Bucky sucked in air, his whole body shaking above you.

It was so fucking hot—you weren’t helping, your pussy clenching him like crazy.

Sam rubbed his lower back soothingly. “This is about you, remember?” Sam guided Bucky’s hands to the handles that sat on your hips. “Give her all of it.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whimpered. He grasped the handles hard, surprised when his dick somehow slid even deeper into you. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he panted; he was already coming. He hadn’t even pulled out once. He just stayed where he was, his head tipped back against Sam’s shoulder and his cock so far up your pussy you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Feels so good, Bucky,” you encouraged. “I’m so full.”

Bucky groaned at that, finally gaining enough control to slowly pull out of you and shove back in. “So wet, god, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky nearly sobbed as he significantly picked up his pace.

“That’s it, show her what that serum can do.” Sam smacked Bucky’s ass before climbing off the bed to sit back and watch.

Bucky took the suggestion to heart, throwing your legs over his shoulders and gripping the handles so tight his knuckles turned white. He drilled into you so hard and fast, you couldn’t catch your breath. Each thrust knocked it right out of your chest.

“You okay, doll?” Bucky grunted, not slowing down.

You couldn’t answer; telling him how good he felt was impossible.

Bucky accepted the nod of your head; he could see the desperation in your eyes. He leaned back slightly, his mouth dropping open in a sexy look of determination. His pace never faltered as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Sam,” Bucky turned his head, searching for him. “Want you too,” he huffed.

Sam was at the edge of the bed in a flash. “Where do you want me, baby boy?”

Bucky shook his head. “Wherever she does.”

Sam turned to you, his hands cupping your bouncing breasts as he kissed you. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Want–” you gasped, “want you both!”

Sam knew what you meant, even though you couldn’t form any more words to be more explicit.

“Hold up, Buck,” Sam said, grabbing the bottle of lube off the nightstand.

Bucky reluctantly slowed down until he came to a complete stop, his dick twitching inside you.

“Help her up.” Sam lifted your hands up to Bucky, who pulled you into his lap.

Your tied hands went around his neck as Sam climbed onto the bed behind you. He settled against the headboard and motioned for Bucky to put you in his lap. While Sam prepped you with his fingers, Bucky started stroking slowly in and out again, not able to just stay buried inside of you.

Your tongue twisted with his, letting him know how much you needed this. “I love you too,” you whispered against his lips.

Bucky grinned wider than he had in a long time, planting desperate kisses all over your face.

“Hey, I love you too!” Sam interrupted. “Where's my kisses?”

“Soon,” Bucky laughed. “Little busy right now.”

“Tell me about it. You ready, baby?”

“Yes,” you nodded empathically. “Need you both.”

Bucky slipped out of you and held you steady while Sam eased into you, rubbing your back soothingly. “Good girl, doing so well for us, doll.”

Once Sam was fully sheathed inside you, he gripped your thighs, spreading your legs open for Bucky.

“So fuckin’ pretty, you know that?” Bucky pushed into your pussy impatiently. “How’s that feel, doll?”

“Move! Please, fuck, move!”

“Think that means it feels good,” Sam chuckled.

Bucky’s grin turned into a cocky smirk as he pulled your hips toward him, working you on both of their fat cocks at once. While Bucky worked your hips, Sam had one hand teasing your tits while the other sought out your clit.

“Oh, Jesus! I’m gonna come!”

They could both feel your thighs shaking and your heart beating out of your chest–they had barely started, and you were already a mess.

Sam’s fingers moved faster, his teeth grazing against your neck. “Come for us, baby. Show Bucky how good it feels to be balls deep inside of you when that pretty pussy comes.”

Sam untied your wrists, allowing you the pleasure of touching them as they took you apart. One of your hands went back to grab Sam’s neck while the other gripped Bucky’s toned shoulder. Sam’s words pushed you right over the edge, and you shook between them as you came so hard your vision went blurry. You were no longer coherent, a babbling mess as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh christ,” Bucky gripped Sam’s shoulders, being selfish as he pushed his cock into you deep, fucking you through your orgasm. “I’m coming, doll–so fucking tight, god!” Bucky choked the last word out as he felt Sam’s hands on his ass, pushing him even deeper as he spilled inside you for the second time.

Bucky pulled out, groaning as your overstuffed pussy leaked your combined juices. He swiped two fingers through your sensitive folds and brought his fingers to Sam’s lips. You whimpered as you watched Sam lean forward, sucking Bucky’s fingers like a man starved.

“Come on, doll. We gotta make Sam feel good too.”

You nodded, holding on to Bucky’s shoulders as he started bouncing you on Sam’s cock. Sam leaned back, his hands rubbing circles on your thighs, enjoying the view of your ass bouncing each time Bucky brought you down on his length.

“Faster,” Sam grunted, his head tipping back in pleasure.

Bucky obliged, moving you with more speed like you really were a doll for them both to play with. Your fingers dug into Bucky’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Doing so good, doll,” Bucky muttered in your ear.

The praise made you clench, drawing a guttural moan from Sam.

Sam took over, sitting up quickly, making you and Bucky fall onto the bed. He gripped the handles on your hips, pushing into you so hard that you collapsed onto Bucky’s chest, your face buried in his neck as Sam pounded into your ass without mercy.

Looking down at you and Bucky beneath him, his wildest dream come true, Sam unraveled quickly, stilling inside of you as he came.

Sam collapsed next to Bucky, pulling you to him. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed the top of your head. “And you.” Sam blindly reached for Bucky, his hand patting his face, making you all chuckle.

“Love you both,” Bucky said breathlessly.

The lights went out, and you all groaned. The wind howled outside the window; Bucky got up to open the blinds.

“It’s snowing again. We better bundle up.”

“Man, and I was gonna make pancakes,” Sam pouted.

“Come on, let’s hurry and shower while we still have hot water.” You jumped up, your adoring men following close behind.

“This isn’t so bad,” you hummed, snuggling deeper under your blanket.

Bucky and Sam were on either side of you. All of you wearing as many clothes as you could fit on your bodies and cuddling together for warmth in the bed.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Sam agreed, placing a kiss on your temple. “It’s your turn to tell a story, Buck.”

“I’m too sleepy,” Bucky yawned, snuggling against you.

You and Sam had kept everyone entertained, taking turns sharing stories from your pasts, most of Sam’s extremely exaggerated.

You could understand why Bucky would be hesitant. “Let’s take a little nap then, yeah?” Sam took your hint, stretching his arm so he could hold you both.

Bucky relaxed, kissing you quickly as a thank you. “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“Is it so crazy that two people love and adore you?” You kissed him back.

Sam landed a quick smack to Bucky’s ass. “Don’t–”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Bucky protested.

“I already know what you were gonna say, and it’s stupid, so just don’t. We love you; deal with it.”

“Are you sure you wanna put up with him from now on?” You giggled.

Bucky looked down at you both; he had never felt such contentment. He brushed your hair out of your face, smiling down at you. “I’ll deal with it.”

Masterlist

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