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#bucky barnes headcanon
wintersoldierwhore · 2 days
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not who i thought – bucky barnes
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MASTERLIST
Bucky, running from his twisted life, wanting to be far... far... away from everything that reminded him of his past. With help from his friend, Steve, he waved goodbye to New York, moving to a small town, proving to be quite a task. New name, new identity. It all seemed to much to maintain. Until he met you.
one (coming soon)
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cattordi · 10 months
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a/n did y’all miss me??? writing this in class 🤗 so enjoy. honestly felt like i write absolutely too much abt absolutely nothing
summary you get a flat tire on the way to a party and on top of that you’re in the middle of nowhere so you call bucky to help you
pairings brothersbestfriend!mechanic!bucky barnes x collegestudent!reader
warnings smut , breeding, praise, not proofread, choking, foul language, arguing?,a bit of fluff etc. 18+ MINORS DNI
don’t test me
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“only this would happen to me” you groan before pulling your car over in the absolute middle of nowhere.
you were on the way to a spring break party but clearly the universe had other plans. getting out of your car, you walk around to check out the damage.
low and behold, a flat tire.
“no fucking way.” you whisper. you were miles away from a gas station or any sort of place other people were. grabbing your phone from your back pocket of your jean shorts, you scroll through your contacts finding your brothers name.
you place the phone to your ear and sit for a bit letting it ring.
and ring.
and ring. until finally you’re sent to voicemail.
what the fuck?
you hesitate as you keep scrolling through your contacts looking at other options of help; until you finally reach that one person.
bucky.
your least favorite human to ever walk the earth but you could never deny how he made you feel sometimes.
the man was good with his words, you have to admit it.
only problem was, he was your brothers best friend and also a dick.
pressing the call button, you wait as the phone rings.
“please pick up, plea-“
“hey y/n, what’s up?” he says and there’s shuffling in the background.
“hey, i’m sorry to bother.”
no you aren’t.
“i got a flat tire and i need help changing it. if you can’t that’s fi-“
“where are you?”
“in the middle of nowhere.”
“what the hell? get in your car and send me your location. i’ll be there in 15.”
knowing you’re at least 30 minutes out of town, you comply and wait.
after what feels like 20 years, bright head lights blind you from behind and you sit up in your car. your drivers side door flies open and a pissed bucky stares at you.
“you could’ve at least locked the door y/n. hell you could’ve gotten murdered.”
rolling your eyes you get out, “didn’t think anyone would even be out here at this time of night.”
“don’t start with your attitude.” he begins while pulling a car jack out his truck, “i’m not in the mood.”
“whatever.”
“why are you even out here this late?”
“what are you my dad?”
“no but i’m your brothers best friend and i have the right to know.”
“it’s none of your busines.” you say and glare at him.
“tell me.”
“no.”
“y/n..” he basically growls at you.
“no.”
“i swear if you don’t tell me.”
you can see the frustration in his face so to be a brat, you keep going.
“i was going to get fucked.” you say and try not to laugh.
visible jealousy crosses his face and he stands from his squatted position. “you what?”
“i was going to have sex? is that a prob-“ you begin but are cut off by a hand around your throat.
“you know that pisses me off, so why keep pushing it? hm?” he hums the last part, “you tryna get to me darling?”
you do the best you can to nod as pleasure filled tears brim your eyes.
this is what you always wanted from him.
his metal hand slims into your shorts finding your clit. “do you want me to take you in my truck?”
you nod and his eyes go dark, taking a bit of the pressure off your throat.
if anyone passed by, you’re sure the police would be called.
“use your words.”
“yes.”
“good job baby.”
you both walk to his truck, him following behind you.
he opens the door to the back for you and you hop in immediately filled with even more excitement.
as soon as he closes the door behind the two of you, his lips attack yours. though you’re in such a small space it feels just right for the two of you.
pulling at your shorts, bucky unbuttons them and pulls them down with your underwear.
he takes notices of the wet spot on your panties and chuckles. “so wet for me already.”
his hand slids between your folds; coating every inch of you before two fingers slide in.
you gasp at the stretch and his pace only gets faster. “you feel so tight around my fingers baby.”
“i’m gonna cum.”
he stops and you’re immediately pissed off. “why’d you stop?”
“i want you to cum when i’m you.”
you hadn’t notice his jeans were down but his dick caught your full attention,
and my lord was it big.
“it’s not gonna fit.”
“oh it will. lay back for me.” he says calmly all the while, lining up at your entrance.
the anticipation wears off as soon as he slams in you and begins moving. the truck fills with sounds of moans and skin slapping.
“you’re so tight, i love it.” he says and his strokes become faster.
“you’re so big.” you say in between moans. “i’m getting so close.”
“you’re doing so well,” he begins and leans down to kiss you, “you take me so well.”
you’re getting closer and closer to coming everytine he hits your sweet spot and it couldn’t feel any better. “harder please.” you moan and he complies immediately, thrusting into you.
“i’m gonna cum.” you say and at that moment his thumb finds your clit and rubs big meaningful circles.
“my lord darling, you feel so good around me. it’s taking everything in me not to cum right now.”
he continues to thrust into you getting you closer and closer to what you both desire. “i’m cumming bucky.”
“i feel you darling, keep going. you’re squeezin’ me so tight.” he begins and you continue to cum around his cock,”i’ve waited for this for long baby.”
yours moans get louder as when grabs your legs and puts him on his shoulder, making his thrust hit a different spot inside of you. “y/n..” he moans, “fuck you’re making me fun babydoll.”
with that, his continues his fast thrust hitting your g-spot repeatedly till he comes.
warm spurts of cum fill you as his thrust slow down and eventually come to a halt. “holy fuck that was the best sex i’ve had in a long time..” you say while trying to catch your breath.
“you wanna go again?”
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kikixreverie · 11 months
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It's called: freefall
Bucky x Female reader
Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.
Word count - 10k
Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.
A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.
________________________
"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."
Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.
"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.
It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.
You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.
Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."
You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"
"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.
You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.
"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.
You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.
Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.
His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.
Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.
"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.
"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."
You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.
You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."
He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."
"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.
"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.
"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.
"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."
You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"
"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."
Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"
"Dead."
You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.
"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.
"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.
"Wish me luck guys."
_______________________________________
You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.
Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.
You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.
The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.
You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.
You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.
You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.
"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."
Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.
The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.
You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.
It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.
The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.
"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.
Fuck, he smelled like sin too.
It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.
"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.
"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"
You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.
Women were to keep their heads down.
Which was bullshit.
"Okay."
He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.
Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.
It's just pretend.
You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.
"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.
"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."
Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.
"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.
You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.
You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.
You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.
"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.
You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.
He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.
As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.
"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.
Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.
"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.
"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.
They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.
"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."
This fucking guy-
Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."
He was just as pissed as you were.
"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.
He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.
You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.
"She won't be a problem."
Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."
Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."
Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.
"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.
"Lucille."
A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."
At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.
Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.
"I happen to collect pretty things."
Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.
A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."
"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."
"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."
Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.
"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.
He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.
As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.
You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.
his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.
"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.
You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.
You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."
Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."
"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."
"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."
You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"
"Inside pocket, left side."
You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.
His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.
You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.
"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.
You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.
The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.
"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.
"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."
Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.
Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.
"Name?"
"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.
Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.
You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.
"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.
"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.
"Huh?"
His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."
Oh.
"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.
You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.
He didn't have to act so upset about it.
"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.
"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."
You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."
He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.
"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.
You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.
"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.
You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.
He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.
Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.
God, you drive him fucking crazy.
You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."
He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.
"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"
"Bucky."
He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.
The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.
Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.
At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.
It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.
His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.
You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.
They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.
Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.
He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.
You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.
Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.
"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."
You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.
The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.
You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.
Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.
There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.
"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"
You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"
He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."
You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.
"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.
"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.
You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"
"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."
His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.
By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.
You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.
He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.
You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.
This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.
He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.
"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.
"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.
You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.
It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.
It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.
"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.
His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.
"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.
"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.
You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.
You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.
"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.
He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.
So pretty.
"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"
"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"
He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.
"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right. 
"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."
By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.
You were his.
You wanted to be his.
He was yours completely.
He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.
You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.
The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.
You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.
You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.
You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.
He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.
His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.
Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.
He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.
His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.
He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes. Please, James."
He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.
You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.
"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.
He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."
Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.
He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.
You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.
When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.
You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.
You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.
You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.
"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.
"You don't have to take it off."
You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.
"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.
He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.
You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.
You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.
Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.
You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.
"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.
A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.
He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"
He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."
He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.
"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.
"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.
You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.
His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.
His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.
You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."
You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.
Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.
"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.
"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."
He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."
He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.
"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."
Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.
His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.
You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.
"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."
You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."
He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.
"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.
You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.
"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.
"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."
He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"
You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"
"Yes, I want that, so much."
"Good, let's make it official then."
He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.
"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.
"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.
"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."
"I can't wait, baby."
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navybrat817 · 24 days
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Lmao everyone learning that Buckys kid has super strength when he breaks red wing while being babysat by Sam and Steve. Bucky shedding a tear and being so proud of his boy when he gets home 🥲
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Oh, my goodness. 🥰
But can you imagine the heartbroken look on Jamie's face when he breaks one of the wings off? How he goes from giggling to wide and tearful eyes. Steve and Sam are trying to wrap their heads around what they just saw while Jamie's bottom lip starts to quiver. 
"It's okay, little guy," Steve says immediately as Sam silently picks up the broken wing and inspects it with awe. "Sam, tell him it's okay," he adds in whisper. 
Sam heart breaks faster than Redwing's wing when a tear falls from the eye of Bucky's son. He doesn't want him to cry. "It's okay. We can fix this!" He promises him. "You're so strong. Your Dada will be so proud."
"Mama?" Jamie sniffles hopefully. 
"Your Mama, too," Steve smiles, exchanging a look with Sam as he picks the little boy up and rocks him in his arms. "Did you know he was that strong?" he whispers.
"I had no idea," Sam whispers back.
So when you and Bucky get home later and they explain what happened, you promise Sam you'll pay for the repairs and that you had no idea he could actually break Redwing as Bucky tosses his son in the air. 
"You broke him?! That's my boy! My strong Nugget!" He smiles, catching him with a wide smile. 
"Bucky," you say when Sam narrows his eyes. 
"Can't wait to tell your Aunt Nat," Bucky continues, smiling from ear to ear. "She'll be so proud of you!"
"I'm so sorry," you swear to Sam when he continues to glare at your husband before you go to give Jamie a kiss on his head. "My strong little man," you whisper fondly. 
Sam sighs a little. "Well, at least Bucky wasn't here to witness it and laugh in real time."
"I'll just watch it later on the Nanny Cam," he says without missing a beat.
You close your eyes when Sam and Steve both say, "Nanny Cam?!"
They would babysit for you again, right?
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Love and thanks! ❤️
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brnesblogposts · 11 days
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Stuck
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bucky barnes x reader
a/n miscommunication & close proximity trope is all i’m gonna say, it’s very fluffy once well- read it and find out reblogs appreciated!!!
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“You’ve gotta be shitting me” Bucky speaks under his breath, frustration evident in his body language and tone. A feedback sound started on the speakers on the ferris wheel.
“Ladies and gentlemen there seems to be some technical issues with the ferris wheel, remain calm and stay seated and we should have it back up and running soon”
You heard a heavy sigh escape from Bucky as his head hung back in defeat.
“They said it’ll be fixed soon, won’t have to be stuck with me for long Buck” Trying to cut the tension that sat between him and yourself only earned a side glance from the man beside you.
You looked down to the car just beneath you “STEVE, NAT!! ARE YOU GUYS OKAY??!” Their heads whipping towards you as you spoke at a far too loud volume.
“WE’RE OKAY! YOU?” Natasha replied back and you gave her a thumbs up, her and Steve getting back to bickering and giggling about whatever they were talking about. Meanwhile you were sat next to Mr Grumpy-
“Can you stop moving,” he spat out without looking at you. Bold of you to assume you were getting somewhere with him, even on the brink of considering him a ‘friend’ but that idea was shot down quickly.
“I’m not moving, it’s probably the wind or maybe it’s you and you don’t realise” Tapping your fingers on the barrier that held you in place, he turned to you and gave you a bitter look which only made the situation more awkward and tense.
“How’d i get dragged onto the ferris wheel anyway” He huffs.
“Because, Steve and Nat are your best friends and also Nat is really scary and saying yes was easier than saying no” You looked down at the two as you spoke, their flirting ever so obvious even from your height.
A few minutes passed where nobody said anything, you both avoided eye contact and it gave you time to reflect on what you could’ve done to make Bucky so impassive to you, you’d barely talked to him because if you tried he disregarded you or made an excuse to leave as soon as possible. You really wanted to be his friend too. It’s awkward when the four of you go out and Steve and Nat obviously want to do things together as a couple making you stuck with Bucky and him with you. At least being civil is all you want, for Bucky to be able to hold a conversation with you longer than a few seconds.
“Are you cold?” His voice broke you from your thoughts, you were shivering and you hadn’t realised as you were so deep in your head. You looked at the goosebumps on your arms and turned to him,
“I guess I am, yeah.” you laughed at your ignorance for not noticing your body temperature drop. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bucky starting to take his jumper off.
“What are you doing?” You furrowed your brows at his action, there’s no way he was about to give that to you, he doesn’t even like you, you don’t think so anyway based on every interaction you’ve had with him ever.
“I’m giving you my sweater?” Now he was confused, it was quite obvious to him what he was doing, why else would he take off the jumper and sacrifice himself so you could be warm? He’s a gentleman first if anything. He got it over is head and handed it you, you took a second to take it as you were flabbergasted at his sudden kindness towards you.
“Oh.” You broke your gaze from him down to the jumper “Thank you,” you smiled gratefully and put the jumper on. The sleeves swallowed your hands, which helped because they were freezing before. Then you looked back at Bucky who now sat next to you in nothing but a black t-shirt “Are you not cold?” Once again furrowing your brows in his direction.
“Not as cold as you” He was looking straight ahead at the city view from your spot at the top of the ferris wheel. Reading his expression was impossible and you were really trying to—
“Okay well uh— thanks again.” You repeated your thanks as you snuggled into the jumper that now enveloped you, “So.. kinda awkward, huh?” You tried cracking a joke laughing a little as you did so which made Bucky turn to face you, analysing his features which you didn’t notice softened as he saw you smiling.
Bucky coughed awkwardly “Uh-“ He let out a small laugh too “Looks like Steve and Nat aren’t bothered by this disruption at all” His tone was lighter.
“Those two wouldn’t notice the world ending while they’re gazing at each other like that” You laughed again, Bucky liked that sound.
“So in love, it’s sickening” He retorted with a shake of his head and a smile which earned a glance from you, just a brief one before you looked back down at your sweater paws as they rested on the barrier, Bucky has noticed and he found it endearing, he felt warm whenever he saw you smile or heard you laugh and every time your thigh accidentally touched his due to your close proximity he swears a bolt of electricity travelled through him making his heart beat faster.
“I think it’s cute” You had a small pout on your face as you spoke, still looking down towards your two friends “imagine being stuck on a ferris wheel with someone you love, not the worst thing in the world in my opinion, it’s kind of like an impromptu date where you have no choice but to talk because the other option is incredibly awkward silence” You fiddled with the sleeves of the jumper.
“I guess, but what if you were trapped on a ferris wheel with someone you liked who you knew didn’t feel the same, that’s awkward all on its own” He was playing with a thread on his jeans as he spoke, you noticed.
“How would they know if the other person didn’t feel the same? Had they asked?” You inquired as the tension between you grew once again because the situation was too close to home.
“Isn’t asking embarrassing though?” Bucky asked breathily, like he was nervous.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?” He looked at you.
“I mean the worst that can happen is they say no and you’re sad for a bit but you’d move on eventually” You smiled but you weren’t looking at him.
“Right, yeah” He coughed awkwardly again and the silence resumed until he broke it about a minute later “Uhm” clearing his throat again Bucky decided it was now or never “Are you doing anything Friday night?” He closed his eyes for a brief second because there was no going back now.
“No, why?” You looked at him and smiled, maybe he’d finally be your friend, that was progress and you could work with that.
“Would you uh- like to get dinner with me? Like a date..?” He avoided your gaze as he asked.
“What” It caught you off guard and you responded without thinking.
“Fuck” He swore to himself “sorry forget I said anything, I don’t know what was going through my-“ He began to ramble.
“Bucky no I mean, I thought you didn’t like me” His head turned to face you as he thought about your words.
“What? No I do like you” He furrowed his brows thinking back on the interactions you’d had where he hadn’t realised he’d been so nervous it came off as rude. “Shit i’m sorry, i’ve been an ass to you now that I think about it, I wasn’t trying to though, I thought I was uh- I thought i was disguising my attraction to you well because i didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I guess it came off dickish” He internally slapped himself at his mistake
“Oh, OH” The realisation and his admission hit you “Awe, Bucky,” you laughed at how silly it all was, if you’d have just talked to each other sooner this could’ve been avoided “Bucky I would love to go to dinner with you” You smiled at the man.
The ferris wheel suddenly began again and you were on your way down, both smiling like idiots and laughing whenever you’d glance at each other, two idiots that had liked each other this whole time who didn’t know it. You both stepped off the car and down the stairs smiling and giggling still and approached Natasha and Steve,
“What the hell happened up there?” Natasha laughed because she had never seen the two of you so cosy before, Steve raised a brow but you two only burst out laughing again and started walking ahead of them and snickering as they both stared in confusion and disbelief.
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bucky-fricking-barnes · 2 months
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The Cards We're Dealt
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Title: The Cards We’re Dealt
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 15k
Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs
Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.
A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do. 
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There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,
“How many does he control?”
If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.
“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating. 
“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“
“Not anymore.”
The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.
“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”
George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”
“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”
Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.
“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.
“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.
“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”
Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.
“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”
He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.
George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.
“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business. 
“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.
“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”
Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.
“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”
He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it. 
“Do you understand, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.
Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.
It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.
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You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.
Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.
“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”
You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.
“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.
Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!
“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.
“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”
Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.
All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.
You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table. 
“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”
James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.
True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.
James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.
“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee. 
“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.
You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?
“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”
Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”
Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.
It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.
“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.
Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.
“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.
You want to pull away. You don’t.
“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”
“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“
“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty. 
“Excuse me?”
He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.
You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.
“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”
Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.
Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.
A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.
The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.
You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.
The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her. 
“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“
“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”
You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”
You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.
The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.
“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.
“It’s almost noon, Miss.”
Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed.  “My parents…”
“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.
Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.
You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything. 
“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.
You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.
Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window. 
“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”
“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.
If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”
You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.
If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.
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Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.
You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.
“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.
Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them. 
“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”
You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.
Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.
“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”
“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”
That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.
“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”
She nods. “That’s true.”
“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.
“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”
You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.
“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.
Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.
You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.
You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?
That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.
George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.
Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.
“Are you sick or something?”
You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.
His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.
“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.
Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.
“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.
Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.
“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”
James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”
You shake your head. “Of course not.”
“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”
You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.
Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.
“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”
“Of course they are,” you mumble. 
James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.
“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.
He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”
“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”
His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”
Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.
The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.
“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.
You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.
“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”
You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.
“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”
Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food. 
The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.
“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.
“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.
“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.
You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed. 
With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.
“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.
“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”
His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”
“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock. 
Why is he suddenly standing up for me?
“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”
Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.
“That’s enough!”
You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?
James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.
“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” 
The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.
“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.
“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”
The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.
Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.
Maybe James works on them?
“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.
One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.
You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements. 
James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him. 
“Are you okay?” he asks.
You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.
Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.
You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.
James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.
“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city. 
“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.
After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.
In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.
“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now. 
He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”
You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.
“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”
“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows. 
“Yes, you did.”
“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”
Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows. 
“So you do want to marry me?” you ask. 
He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”
“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are. 
“What?”
“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.
“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.
It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.
The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.
Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.
James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”
The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.
“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.
“My friend’s bar,” James says.
Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.
If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.
“James—”
“Bucky.”
You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.
“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.
“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”
“Is that… a nickname?” 
Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.
You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.
When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.
“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.
“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.
“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.
“You must be Y/N.”
You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.
“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”
Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”
You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.
Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.
Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.
“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.
Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”
You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you. 
What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?
“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.
“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”
“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”
You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.
“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”
“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.
“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.
Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off. 
You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”
“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”
“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.
Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”
“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.
He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.
“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.
No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.
“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.
“Observant.”
You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”
Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.
“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.
You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.
“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.
You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”
Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”
You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.
“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”
“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”
You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.
“What?” you ask.
“What?”
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.
“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”
You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”
“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.
Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.
“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”
You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.
“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.
Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.
“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”
Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”
You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”
“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.
Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”
Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.
“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”
“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.
“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”
Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.
“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.
Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.
“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”
“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.
He smiles a little. “Something like that.”
Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.
“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.
The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.
“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.
Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.
Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.
You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.
When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.
He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,
“Goodnight, sleep tight.”
The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.
Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.
Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar. 
Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.
The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day. 
Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy. 
You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.
The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.
Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?
The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.
“Y/N?” Peggy asks.
You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.
“Y/N, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.
“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.
Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”
Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.
“Enough, Mother!” you shout.
Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.
Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”
She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.
“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.” 
Your anger wavers. “Contract?”
“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.
There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”
“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.
Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”
The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.
“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”
Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.
Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead. 
Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried. 
“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.
Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.
“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”
“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.
“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.
Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away. 
“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks. 
Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.
“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.
“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.
“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?” 
You look back at Bucky. “A break?”
“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”
“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”
“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile. 
“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.
You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”
He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”
There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.
“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.
“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”
“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.
“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”
He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”
You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”
“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”
“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.
He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”
You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”
“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”
“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.
“Can you look at me? Please?”
Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.
“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”
“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.
You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.
“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”
You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.
“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”
“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.
“What about you?”
“Can I dig, too?”
Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,
“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”
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Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.
Mo bhean chéile = My wife
Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ
Thick = A stupid person
Ifreann = Hell
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Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes
1K notes · View notes
vellicore · 9 months
Text
Bucky Barnes is Loud in Bed
Warnings: (degra)dation, da-d-dy kink, preg-nan-cy kink, lac-tation kink, basically pure filth
A/N: Basically I’ve been thinking about Bucky all day so here you go.
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Bucky Barnes is loud. 
Imagine how vocal Bucky is in the bedroom. He may not have always been this way. Back in the 40s, he’d let out a noise here and there. But ever since being freed as the Winter Soldier, Bucky can’t contain his noises.
HYDRA muffled his voice for so long that now he loves to use it. The moans he lets out could only be described as pornographic. The things he says in the bedroom would never have been allowed in the past.
No, Bucky loves the way you clench around him whenever he degrades. Once he called you a cumslut and you clenched so hard you practically choked his cock in response.
God, he loves the way you get so desperate for him. He loves the way you will beg for him. He loves how you’re always dripping wet for him before he’s even touched you.
It’s all of these things that spur him on. It’s these little things that cause him to say things like, “Such a pretty little pussy for Daddy. She’s just begging to be fucked. Isn’t she?”
Bucky is the definition of feral. He goes after what he wants and when he needs it. Tony was so close to kicking him out of the compound until he decided to soundproof all the bedrooms.
When the topic of having a baby came up, he was the loudest he’d ever been. The thought of filling you to the brim almost drove him mad. He loved the thought of you round with his baby. The idea of your breath filling up with milk. That night he told you every little thing he’d do to you when you’re pregnant.
He may seem quiet around everyone else, but that brooding super soldier screams in pleasure because of you.
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thornsnvultures · 9 months
Text
everything I want...
bucky barnes x plus size!avenger!reader
summary: being sent on a mission with bucky should be a piece of cake, but he's been acting strange around you for weeks now and you have no clue why.
cw: SMUT, fingering, oral sex (fem rec), shower sex, p in v sex (unprotected), creampie, breath play, breeding kink, pregnancy/lactation kink (very little), possessive pervy bucky (he gets a bit feral in this one), solo masturbation mention (m), steve rogers meddling being a great wingman, angst with a happy ending, 4.4k words
a/n: my entry for the lovely @nickfowlerrr 's seven deadly sins event 🖤 Lust is the sin I chose for this fic and really it was an excuse to write filth lol I really hope you enjoy it! (and a quick thanks to everyone who encouraged me to keep going, this fic wouldn't be here without you)
18+ MINORS DNI
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-----
"You'll be with Barnes for this mission. Get in, get out, no big deal. We've done this before and it doesn't look like it'll be much of a problem."
Steve smiles politely at you as he hands you the briefing folder with all the info on where you'll be going and why.
"If it's so easy why doesn't Barnes go alone?"
You regret opening your mouth as soon as the words come out, choosing to bite your lip and open the folder instead of looking at Steve's patented Look of Disapproval.
"Be ready and on the jet in two hours," Steve sighs.
"Yes, Captain."
Steve marches out of the room, always moving like a man on a mission even when he's not on one. No, this one's just you and Bucky. The man who's been avoiding you like the plague the last few weeks. Someone who you thought was at least a friendly acquaintance, a close colleague maybe.
He went from joking with you on the jet and bringing you coffee when he got one for himself from the canteen, to not even looking at you. Like even daring to lift his head when you walked by would get him booted from the team and sent back to Hydra.
You wouldn't say the two of you were close, but being a part of this team, working with these people; it was hard making friends with people who didn't understand, who didn't live on the compound. Sure there were SHIELD agents you saw here and there at the gym or around medical or the offices. But you saw Bucky damn near every day since you joined the team. And now out of the blue he was pretending like you didn't exist.
It didn't help that you had a not so teeny tiny crush on the man either.
Maybe this mission was a peace offering, Steve's way of getting the two of you to rebuild, reconnect. For the betterment of the team...or whatever. The sooner you got it done, the sooner you could get home and get away; from Bucky and from your own hurt feelings.
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Steve was right, the mission didn't take long at all. You were able to get in and get out with the information you needed with little to no fuss. Barnes was the perfect partner to watch your six with the way he was avoiding you and it totally didn't bother you that he hadn't said a word to you outside of what was strictly necessary. Totally.
When you got back to the hotel, Bucky got on the phone with Steve right away, still avoiding. He did need to call Steve to debrief, but he wasn't even saying much, just standing there with the phone to his ear, grunting every now and then.
Frustrated, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled of your boots. Bucky was facing the window, looking over the city. The hotel room was modest, but modest for Tony Stark's standards was still luxurious and you wanted to take advantage of the shower that was practically the size of your bedroom back home before you guys left. You weren't waiting for Bucky to shower first.
"I'm taking a shower," you called out. Bucky made a noise but didn't turn around. His back muscles shifted against the tight black tshirt he wore when he shrugged at something Steve must've said over the phone. You couldn't hear what they were discussing but you could sense Bucky's tension from across the room. From the way he looked you'd think the mission was a failure, that he was reporting back with terrible news even though you know everything went well. Your fingers itched to rub soothing circles over his back, ease some of that tension away...
Shower, think of the shower. He doesn't deserve it.
Once you figured out which knobs controlled which of the four differently angled shower heads, you hopped in. Your clothes lay discarded on the sink as steam filled the room. It was heavenly. You'd have to ask Tony about installing a system like this in your apartment.
As you soaped up with the hotel body wash, your mind started to wander to the same person it always seemed to these days.
Part of why Bucky's sudden rejection was so painful was how much you'd grown to care about him. It felt silly, having a crush like this at your grown ass age, but that's what it was. Your stomach fluttering, your heart racing. You hoped he didn't know just how much he affected you every time he brought you coffee or talked to you or sat near you in a meeting.
Maybe that's why he's been avoiding you, maybe he caught on and...he doesn't feel the same way. Maybe he's trying to put distance between the two of you so you'd get the hint.
God, how embarrassing. You stand there with your hands on your chest, over your breaking heart, and try to hold it together instead of blabbering like a baby.
Of course he doesn't want you. He's a super soldier, practically a God. And he's been through so much. He's not the type to want a...girlfriend right now, especially someone on the team.
Suds drip from your breasts as you try to finish your shower, bending over to scrub your feet while you try not to cry. It's silly, silly and stupid. But you were hoping that even if he didn't like you that way, that you wouldn't lose a friend too.
The thought of him never speaking to you again makes a tear finally fight its way free and you choke out a sob as it falls down your cheek. You hope the pounding water is enough to mask your choking sobs but who knows. Your emotions are all over the place. You can't seem to stop crying and you're angry. Angry at Steve for putting you on this mission, angry at your tears and angry that Bucky might be totally lost to you.
-----
Bucky can smell you.
He stands by the hotel window, holding the bridge of his nose like that'll make it stop. It never does. You're always there, invading his senses. Not just your body wash or the shampoo you use, or the heavy floral stuff the hotel has stocked up in the bathroom. He's trying not to imagine you using the individually wrapped bars of soap to lather yourself up not twenty feet away from him, but just like his hand on his nose, nothing helps.
No, even under all the artificial stuff, it's you that drives his senses wild. Something encoded in your goddamn DNA that fries his brain.
It took him a while to figure out what it was that made it hard to be around you. He could ignore it at first, when you first joined the team. He was still fresh himself, finally coming back to be a do-gooder with Steve and the team after talking time to heal and scrape away what was left of Hydra's programming. There wasn't time to acknowledge the way his dick twitched every time you entered the room. It wasn't appropriate. And Steve would kick his ass for chatting up the newcomer anyway.
But as the weeks and months drew on, as he found himself getting more comfortable, more used to a routine that always seemed to revolve around you, he couldn't ignore it.
He felt like a dog in heat. Most of the time he could manage it, but there were days out of every month where he'd scramble for the nearest bathroom, broom closet, empty meeting room, anything after being with you for even five minutes so he could relieve himself. Biting his lip until he bled to keep from cursing your name as he worked his fist over his cock until there was nothing left.
It was maddening, the shift in your scent. He craved you constantly, but those times when his needs couldn't be ignored he felt out of control. Like he was a snap of your fingers away from becoming him again.
It wasn't until you left your phone unattended in the compound gym that things started to make sense.
You had been chatting on the treadmill with a SHIELD agent. Bucky pretended to be focused on his workout while he listened in to your conversation. Your agent friend was talking about her and her partner trying for a baby so you recommended a period tracker app that you had been using for a while.
"It's great! After you've been using it for a few months it can predict when you'll be ovulating for max baby making potential."
Your friend laughed at the saucy tone in your voice, Bucky nearly dropped the massive dumbell he was curling on his foot. Images of you, breasts heavy and leaking, swollen and pregnant with his child was all he could see. And fuck him, he wanted it, needed it, craved it.
So when your friend was gone and you hopped off the treadmill momentarily in search of your water bottle, leaving your phone behind, Bucky took his chance to sneak a quick look.
It was all right there. He remembers the last day he could smell you so strongly he could barely stand it. He almost got caught in the gym showers, slamming a crack into the tile wall when he came so hard his vision went black with the scent of you burned in his brain. He didn't see you for two days after that but when he did there was a coppery edge to your scent. And the app on your phone proved it.
You were ovulating. Your body was practically screaming for him, demanding that he do what he was made to do and breed your sweet cunt. His need to rut into you, to bury himself deep and pump you full of his cum over and over, no matter how long it took until it sticks, finally made sense.
Bucky already knew he cared for you, but he didn't want to scare you, overwhelm you. He wanted to do right by you, take you on dates, show you how special you are to him. But this feral need to claim you wasn't stopping any time soon either. Maybe, he thought, he should give you some space. Give whatever this feeling was done distance and it would calm down. Then...then he could tell you how he felt. He needed to clear your scent from his mind before he was trapped in a constant state of relieving himself by his own hand month after month, wasting what belonged to you in tissues and shower drains.
-----
So he stayed away, for an entire month at that, before Steve got sick of his shit excuses and put the two of you on this mission together.
"Whatever's going on with you two, you need to work it out. We're not in forth grade any more, Buck, you can't pretend a girl has cooties just cause you feel weird about liking her."
Bucky tensed as he heard her boots fall to the floor behind him.
"I don't-"
"Don't bullshit me, Bucky."
"Language," Bucky's lip quirked, almost a smile.
"I'm taking a shower," you called from the other side of the room. Bucky grunted, not trusting himself to say anything more. He could feel your eyes on him.
"Just talk to her. I know what you're gonna say, she deserves better than a jerk like you. But she doesn't deserve the cold shoulder."
Bucky shrugged, forgetting that Steve couldn't see him. He heard the bathroom door click shut and his forehead dropped against the window.
"You don't get it, Steve. She's different. I can't control myself around her. I'm hanging on by a thread here."
Steve sighs and says something else but Bucky barely hears it over the sound of running water and your clothes hitting the floor. 
"Bucky, you there?"
Shit.
"Sorry, I should...I gotta go."
"She likes you too, idiot." A part of him knew but hearing it out loud felt surreal. "I got the same senses you do. Better even," Bucky shakes his head at Steve's teasing, "I can hear her pulse pick up when she looks at you, how her breathing changes. How she sits close to you, touches you whenever she can."
Bucky shivers thinking of your hands on him, pulling him into your shower with you, letting him get close enough to touch you the way he's dying to touch you.
"And you know I can smell how wet she gets when y-"
"Watch it, Rogers," Bucky snaps with a growl in his throat.
"Then get your shit together, Barnes! She wants you too, you're not gonna scare her off."
Bucky wants to tell Steve he doesn't have any idea what he's talking about when he hears what sounds like crying coming from the bathroom. 
"Alright, if you're done playing matchmaker I gotta go."
Bucky hangs up before Steve can say another word and tosses his phone on the bed. Before he can think better of it his boots are off and he's pulling his shirt up and over his head. His heart is being torn to shreds with every sob that shudders through thin walls and he has the sinking feeling that it's all his fault.
-----
You don't hear the bathroom door open, but you feel the rush of cool air hitting your back. Before you can wipe away your tears and yell at Bucky for coming in before you were finished, he's right there. His hands grip your waist and turn you around.
"Bucky.
"Shh, I've got you."
He pulls you in, crushing you to his bare chest in a fierce hug. You don't know what's happening or why but he's here. Finally he's here and you're not gonna do a thing to stop it.
Your face is still wet with tears when he kisses you, consumes you, more like. His lips, teeth, tongue invading your mouth and begging you to open up and let him take all of you. You're shaking when he lets you go long enough to breathe, but his hands don't let you go, only wrapping around tighter and lifting you up against his broad chest when he feels your legs go weak.
It's everything you've every dreamed of, there's no way it's real. He's naked for fuck's sake. You can see his discarded jeans on the floor by the door, feel the evidence of his nudity pressing long and thick against your thigh.
His lips work down the length of your neck, down your chest, to suck a puckered, soapy nipple into his mouth. He's looking up at you with those murky blue eyes and your mind goes blank. You don't care why he chose now of all times to see you, to touch you, as long as he doesn't stop, as long as he keeps sucking and licking and biting you just like that. And you really must've hit your head because, fuck, you're already this close to coming and that's never happened before.
Your thighs press together, searching for any kind of friction, as you tug on Bucky's hair. When you pull, his eyes roll back. He groans, the noise shooting straight to your pussy.
Still holding you up with one hand, Bucky bullies your thighs apart with the other, spreading you open and on your tip toes so he can slide his fingers over your cunt. Two thick digits slip between your folds and shove into your cunt. You gasp, writhing around his fingers. It's too much, you feel so fucking full you can barely stand it. But Bucky keeps working his fingers, scissoring them, spreading them deep as he pumps them in and out. Your nails scrape against his skin, scrambling across his broad shoulders to find purchase as he brings you careening fast over the edge until you're plummeting, screaming his name as you spasm around his fingers.
He pulls his fingers away and you watch, dazed and panting as he sucks them clean. The way he moans around his fingers nearly has you coming again.
"Bucky, please," you don't know what you're asking for but you don't care. You'll gladly take anything he gives you.
"Need more," he groans, his eyes glazed. "Can I have more, angel?"
You're nodding wildly as he sits you down on the shower bench. Hot water rains down on his back and he's lifting your feet up on the bench so he can keep you spread wide open. His big hands clamp down on your thighs and it would be almost painful if you weren't distracted by the way his mouth latched onto your clit.
"Fuck! Bucky, oh my god," there wasn't any stopping your rambling, begging, pleading. It was too much, too good. Bucky's moans vibrated to your core. He feasted on you like you were his last meal, licking every drop of your juices, sucking each fold before fucking into you with his tongue.
You could think, talk, breathe. All you knew was Bucky's touch as he made you come again. Your legs shook and your back arched and it went on for what felt like forever, this mind blowing pleasure that you almost didn't feel worthy of. That he looked up at you as he cleaned you up with his tongue like you were everything to him in this moment made your eyes well up again for being so emotional.
A look of worry wrinkles Bucky's brow. 
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
With a shaky hand you brushed back an errant hair from his forehead and caressed his cheek. "No, I'm fine. Sorry, I just get emotional like this before, y'know..." You didn't want say it, especially not to a guy you liked right after he ate you out. It was hard to look at him still sitting there between your legs, your face feeling hotter by the second.
"You mean before your period?"
You sputtered and tried to close your legs. No way, there's no way you're talking about your period with your dream man with your legs spread open like he's your gyno.
"Don't hide from me," Bucky growled. You watched, your jaw dropping, as he nuzzled his nose into your mound at the apex of your sex and breathed in deep, filling his lungs with your scent.
"How did you know?"
"Your phone, you left it open at the gym." Bucky doesn't stop kissing your mound, your belly. It's like he's a cat and you're the catnip. "And I can smell it on you. Your scent changes, gets...deeper somehow. Like you're calling to me."
Suddenly he's lifting you up and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist with a shout of surprise. Bucky grabs one of the giant hotel towels on his way out of the bathroom, carrying you like it's nothing. It is for him, but it's jarring. You always forget that he's not just some guy. Like the fact that his enhanced senses don't just include hearing and sight. Of fucking course he can scent you like a bloodhound.
Bucky lays out the big, fluffy towel and drops you on it, watching with hunger in his eyes as you jiggle when your body bounces on the mattress. You want to cover yourself with your arms and squeeze your legs shut, but you hear his voice in your head. 
"Don't hide from me."
Bucky crawls on top of you, his thick arms and broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. It's just him and you and this bed. And between you his cock pushes thick and needy against your weeping cunt. His hips twitch as he kisses you, lightly rubbing the thick vein running down his cock through your folds.
"Please, Bucky," you whine against his lips.
His forehead rests against yours briefly before he sits back on his heels. Bucky's heavy-lidded gaze is hungry, staring at the way your cream coats his cock.
"Please don't tease me, Bucky," your plea comes out shaky and unsure. "I can't take it."
Bucky caresses your cheek, tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb.
"If you let me in, I don't think I'll ever leave."
Your brows pinch, your heart hammers away in your throat. You get the feeling he doesn't just mean in the physical sense.
"I don't want you to leave."
Bucky's eyes shut and his jaw clenches and you reach for him. To take his face in your hands so you can pull him close and look into those beautiful blue eyes when he finally thrusts inside. And he lets you.
You hold him in your hands as his whole body shakes. You've never felt so full, so complete, but you need more. If only he'd move, you need him to move.
"Bucky-"
The growl that explodes from deep in Bucky's chest is the only warning you get before he pulls back, nearly all the way out, and slams back in. The force of it shoves the air from your lungs and you can scarcely catch your breath before he does it again and again, picking up pace until he's hammering into you, pounding you into the mattress. His groin grinds against your pelvis with every deep thrust, the thatch of hair there teasing your clit.
Bucky takes you by the throat, tenderly at first, saying, "Look at me. Don't look away, beautiful, keep those eyes open."
It's a struggle but those blue eyes ground you as your mind tries to float away. You don't know what sounds you're making, what you're even saying but Bucky shushes you, tells you he's got you, you're his.
"My pussy. Mine to fill up, right, beautiful? All mine."
You nod your head as best you can with his fingers on your jaw, babbling nonsense. He doesn't slow or stop, that super-soldier stamina helping him keep a brutal pace.
Bucky grabs your right thigh, turning it over so it's on top of your left and holding it there with the hand not on your throat. Your eyes roll back at the way the new position has him grinding against your inner walls. You thought you felt full before, but this is something else entirely.
Your hands fly up to Bucky's forearm, desperate for a part of him to hold on to as he looms over you, taking what belongs to him. His hand on the meat of your thigh tightens as he grunts and groans and you grip at the hand on your throat, silently begging for his gentle hold to tighten too.
His eyes soften, as he shifts his hand and squeezes. This man could end you right here, right now, with a twitch of his finger but he's looking at you like you're delicate, so fucking delicate and it doesn't make any sense. Your brain is fried, everything feels like too much and just right at the same time. Like you're meant to be here under him, full of him, taking everything he gives you.
"God, you're so beautiful."
Your legs shake under his grip and you feel yourself implode. His words ricochet around your head as you come, coating his cock, and the sheets, with your release.
Bucky's grip on your throat loosens and he collapses on top of you, capturing your lips with his, cradling his arms around you. His full weight on top of your twisted, bent body is a welcome pressure. You never want him to leave.
"Mine," he growls again. "Gotta fill you up, breed this sweet little cunt so everyone knows you're mine. I can't hold back anymore. Say it. Say you're mine."
"I'm yours, Bucky," you cry, "all yours. Only yours."
Bucky lifts your right leg up over his shoulder, spreading you wide open. He brings his thick fingers down on your messy cunt with a wet slap and you cry out, shaking as you come again.
"That's it, beautiful. Milk me fucking dry."
Bucky's hips stutter and go still and he shouts, spilling inside you, filling you to the brim.
Bucky lets your leg fall from his shoulder and collapses on top of you. Before he can suffocate you, not that you'd mind, he rolls the two of you onto your side and holds you tight to his chest. You can feel his release slipping out, oozing down your thigh. There's so much, you don't even want to think about the clean up. Not now, not when it's so much easier to think about how good it feels to be here, in his arms.
"You're mine," Bucky whispers into your hair, taking a heavy breath, filling his lungs with your scent. 
"All yours," you smile, your cheek pressing against his solid chest.
"I mean it. Not just here, not just tonight. I want to make you mine, angel."
Bucky sounds so serious it almost worries you. You turn your head where it rests on his bicep, trying to not get distracted by how big it is. Those blue eyes of his are soft but searching your face, like he needs you to understand, to know that he means it.
"I want that, Bucky. I want it so bad."
Your voice is quiet but you know he can hear you loud and clear, can hear the desperation in his voice mirrored back in yours.
His big hands roam your body, caressing your breast, your hips, like he wants to touch you everywhere all at once. You help him settle on a place by lifting your leg and curling it over his hip. You can see it on Bucky's face, how much he needs you. The way your combined scents make his nostrils flare, the tightening of his jaw. His fingers leave your hip and delve between the juncture of your thighs, a groan rumbling through his chest.
"Bucky," you pant as his fingers play in the mess he made, slipping in and out of your cunt.
He kisses your forehead, continuing to work you open once again.
"Need to have you again, angel." Bucky doesn't wait for you to respond before he's guiding himself in til you're full to bursting. "Gotta keep you stuffed full, baby."
You shudder at his words, his hands roaming your body.
"I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."
---
--
-
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eddiemuonson · 2 months
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Summary: You get a call from Sam asking to help him and Bucky find the Super Soldiers, and get Zemo out of prison. You're still not done with your mission, but the former Winter Soldier doesn't like the idea of you around. This is mostly based on episode 4 of the show, "The Whole World is Watching". I wanted to write something light but you can request a smut.
Warning: Angst, mentions of The Winter Soldier, fluff | Word count: 4k
Pairing: Bucky x f!reader
A loud thud echoed through the loft as Zemo hit his back against the hard floor. You stomped your foot on his chest and heard him grunt against gritted teeth.
"I'm in this case as well. You're just a rat who got lucky from getting out of a cell" You spat out. Both Sam and Bucky trying hard not to snort.
The baron still kept his gaze at you, holding your foot so tight you almost stumbled. He got up on his foot and wrapped a hand around your bicep.
"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage. I can't trust you" He locked his eyes on yours and squeezed his fingers on your skin.
You let out a dry scoff. They should've let him die in that prison. Behind your back, Sam was about to step in. Zemo had shifted his demeanor to a cold look. "You let them do it. Stay out of it".
"And who are you to say shit about what I should or should not do?" Raising your voice, he didn't flinch.
The man pointed a finger at you as a warning, still holding his damn tea cup. Only a slight second later, Bucky shattered the glass against the wall and pulled him by his collar.
"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" The soldier asked him. He tightened his metal wrist and you could see his shoulder grow wide.
Sam stood next to him, resting a hand on his forearm. "Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing".
Bucky still had him in his grip. Zemo didn't hold any expression, otherwise. It was infuriating. "You want some cherry blossom tea?"
You watched as the taller man twisted his collar. "You fucking touch her again, I'll break your neck". He shoved the baron backward and left the living room.
You were surprised, to say the least. Bucky was annoyed you were on this mission with them. He thought you were actually missing a few points and messing with their plan.
But much to his dismay, Sam agreed to have you on board and didn't complain about your work. Said his partner was just being grumpy.
The former Winter Soldier was leaning against the countertop, his hands gripping tightly against the edge. You offered a glass of water, which he denied.
The Falcon was somewhere else making a call, which left you alone with an irritated soldier and a trash bag of an ex-prisoner.
"Don't let him get through your head" You whispered, standing close to Bucky. He didn't look back at you. "It's what he likes to do. Ever since the last time you engaged".
He gulped harshly, it was back when he was being accused of planning a bombing in Vienna. And then, when he was held hostage in Germany, where Zemo broke him and brought Winter Soldier back.
"I don't like him either. But it's easier if we just ignore" You tried to humor him, but he still wasn't in the mood for interaction.
"Would that work if I ignored you as well?" Bucky lifted his eyes to meet yours. He had a stupid faux grin on his face.
As soon as he didn't get a response, he walked past you and made his way back to follow Sam, leaving you alone with Zemo.
~~
You're all gathered around as The Falcon goes through the plan again. Refusing to tag along with Zemo, you had to agree and make Bucky company.
They tracked Karli Morgenthau to a memorial service. But John Walker and his partner figured out the exact same plan. All you wanted to do was get all the serum back.
That is, if you didn't run into the shittiest Captain America while you and Bucky walked up the alley. You could literally hear him tightening his fists, his metal arm already functioning.
"Ah! How’d you find us now?" The soldier carried an unamused tone in his voice. You watched as John and his partner got closer to you both.
"You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?" He wasn't wrong, but you knew Bucky was past that now.
The Captain motioned his head towards you, measuring you from head to toe. "New Avenger?"
You snorted out loud and cracked a laugh. Your stomach was starting to cramp and the soldier next to you watched as John held a confused look.
"She's just a partner" He shrugged. "Sam asked for her help".
"Yeah, but not just a partner. So you better not step foot on our plans" Bucky knows how much of a menace you are.
He can't disagree with the fact that you can actually start a fight with the wrong people and not fear them.
John snorted and you narrowed your eyes at him. "Yeah, right. You wanna meet Karli, there will be civilians there. There's a high risk of casualties".
"No one's asking for your opinion, Cap. Sam is gonna talk to her and reason her" You tried to face him, but his demeanor didn't go down on you.
"She blew up a fucking building with people in it. If he's in there alone with a Super Soldier, he's getting himself killed".
Bucky rolled his eyes. "He's dealt with worse".
You were waiting inside the building while Sam tried to convince Karli. John couldn't stop pacing back and forth, even Zemo seemed annoyed already.
He started complaining about how dangerous it was, but the soldier next to you made sure it hadn't even been ten minutes yet.
Already done with his bullshit, you shifted on your foot. Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You weren't supposed to be there in the first place. He knows you're highly qualified and if shit went down you'd protect yourself.
And even though he's still pissed you're there, he can't wrap his head around the fact that this could be really dangerous for you.
John almost towered over Bucky, he was deadpanning at the Captain. "This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins".
"Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?" He tried getting into his head, but the man next to you did nothing but chuckle.
"You really don't know Sam, do you?" You chimed in and watched as John narrowed his eyes at you. "You come in here parading this new shield which, by the way, doesn't fucking belong to you and you want to dictate shit?"
By this point, he really wishes he could hit a woman. Bucky notices how John moves his body and tries to face you, but he doesn't let him.
"You better keep your distance" He warned the Captain, who took a few steps back and raised his hands in surrender.
John didn't wait five more minutes and decided to intervene in their conversation. Karli was fast enough and knocked them down before running away. You couldn't find her in the maze, but Zemo made sure to destroy the serums she had. Or he thought so.
~~
Back in the loft, the German man was lying on the couch with a soft fabric covering his eyes. He was talking about how Super Soldiers weren't allowed to exist.
In gets Bucky as he sighs before taking his jacket off. You couldn't take your eyes off his firm body, his strong arms, and perfectly shaped abs.
You were sitting opposite to him as he was on his back, just staring at his entire body. He poured a glass of whiskey before speaking up about his suspicions about John.
"Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy" He says as he rests his lips on the rim of the glass.
"Good thing you recognize that" You let out a laugh, and he snaps his eyes at you.
Bucky rolls his eyes and speaks through the glass. "You should have a look in the mirror".
You're taken aback by his response and open your mouth, ready for retaliation, but he speaks up again. "Shouldn't have given him the shield".
Sam stood next to him and pointed a finger, but you defended him. "He didn't give it".
You're sitting on the couch with your arms crossed against your chest. The former Winter Soldier walks toward you before crouching in front of you.
"Steve definitely didn't. And you're past the point of giving an opinion here. I said this mission wasn't for you".
He was too annoyed today, that's for sure. But that didn't give him the right to be a brat with you all the time. And you should ignore him, but the bickering gets him all the time.
You lift your torso and fill the gap between your faces. His brows are furrowed. "You don't get to say what I should or should not do".
The staring lingers for a while until the new captain barges into the loft asking for you all to turn Zemo over.
"Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today" Sam walks over to him.
John tries to tease your friend before the Wakandans enter the loft. They peacefully ask to turn Zemo as well, but a fight bursts in the room.
You run towards the corner of the room behind a pillar, while the wakandan knocks the captain and his friend down. The other three men are standing there, watching him get beat up with amused looks on their faces.
"Looking strong, John" Bucky teases and you snort loudly. He snaps his head your way and grins.
The soldier tries reasoning with Ayo, but she pulls herself away from him and continues to fight against John and his partner. Both him and Sam are too busy to notice that Zemo is trying to get away.
You run after him and hold the door knobs before he can lock himself. "Where the hell you think you're going?"
"Let go, or I'll shoot you" He warns, but you paid no mind. Only then, he gripped his gun quickly before shoving you backward, locking himself.
You looked over your shoulders and watched as Bucky was kneeling on the floor, grabbing his metal arm.
"Shit" You mutter and rush to him. "Everything okay?"
He carried a different look for a slight second, almost vulnerable. He reattached his arm back. Bucky looked at you and nodded. You grabbed his limb and carefully inspected it.
"Did you know they could do that?" He was still glancing down at you. His blue eyes were soft and light. He shook his head and clanked his arm.
Later on, Zemo was still nowhere near to be found, while Sam and Bucky were pissed they missed him.
"How could you not hold him back?" Your friend was messaging a few people he knew might know about him.
"I tried. He pointed a fucking gun to my head" You snapped.
The other man sat next to you on the stool by the countertop. He let out a sharp inhale. "Was it even loaded? He could've just tricked you".
"How the fuck would I know?" Your face was millimeters away from his once again. Your breath was fanning his face and you watched as he tightened his jaw.
"Know why I hate this fucking plan? Because you had one job today and you couldn't even do it" You closed your fists and clicked your jaw at his words.
"As much as I know Sam would bow down to you and say you're a great partner. I beg to differ" He got from his seat and walked with his heavy boots against the floor toward the couch.
Your voice cut through the air with bitterness and you immediately regretted it. "Sometimes you're no different from the Winter Soldier".
He stopped his tracks and spun around. Quickly, Bucky captured your face with his metal hand and squeezed your cheeks, making you pout.
"What the fuck did you just say?" His forehead was brushing yours and you could see rage in his eyes.
"Let go of her. She's just disappointed" Sam gave you a cold look before handling his partner. He grabbed Bucky by the shoulder before the man shoved your face.
You were sitting alone in the loft during the night, trying to book a flight home. Obviously, your plan to help with the mission became a disaster, nonetheless, from the beginning you knew Bucky didn't agree on this.
He thought you couldn't keep up with the plan and he was right. You were making things worse at this point. You wanted to help them, you tracked the Super Soldiers and you helped with Zemo, but that was just it.
Now you're debating whether you should just go without warning or not. Sam is going to be pissed at the end of it. He knows you're better than that, and after what you told Bucky there's no way you can face him again.
Your friend watched you from the corner of the hallway. He knows you're hurting from what happened, you wouldn't snap like that if his partner didn't push you. Sam talked to him, but he was too angry to actually forgive you.
He didn't blame him either.
"Hey, you going to sleep or what?" Sam asked as soon as he dropped his weight on the couch next to you. He peeked through your screen and saw it. "Woah, you're not leaving right? This isn't over. I still need you. We need to find Zemo".
"You can do that without me. You did it before. Besides, he's out there because of me. And Bucky is tired of my face".
He closed your laptop, and you glanced at him. "I can do it, but I don't want to. S'why I reached out to you. And we're gonna find him, he needs us too".
"And Bucky... I think it's just his sexual frustration talking" He laughed as you gasped at his words.
"Sam, what the fuck?"
"Dude doesn't even go on dates, he's probably nervous having a woman around. He's always been grumpy, I think it's in his nature. He'll come around at some point" He grinned at you.
"That's not my problem. He keeps pushing me, I'll fight back" You didn't need to look at him to see he was definitely enjoying the playfulness.
"You guys should just have sex. This is so annoying" Sam grabbed his phone as you choked on your own spit.
"For the love of God, drop this conversation before I snap at you too".
He handed the phone to you, saying Karli was threatening his sister and his nephews. She wants to find him, alone.
He has other plans, of course. But you can't even think about accepting the idea before Bucky gets to talk.
"He doesn't need to know. I'll go with him, you meet us there".
~~
You watched as he and Bucky fought the Super Soldiers along with John and his partner. They were beating each other up relentlessly.
One of them pulled a pocket knife and tried stabbing Bucky and you gasped. He shielded himself, dropping the object close to their face.
He had a snapped cut on his nose, and his jaw was split up. His knuckles were bloody red. Sam was in better shape than his friend, though.
You were shocked when you saw John's partner sitting unconscious on the floor. The captain rushed to him, too desperate to make any sense.
You pulled Bucky and Sam away and ran out of the building. "We gotta get the hell out of here now. He's gonna kill the kid" Your hands were shaking, and you almost tripped on your foot.
"Hey, woah. What are you doing here?" Bucky stopped in his tracks, looking back.
"Let's argue later, dipshit" Sam shouted at the soldier as you kept running.
In the loft, you asked Bucky to sit on the stool as you worked on his injuries. Starting on his nose, he hissed at the contact with the wet cloth.
"Keep steady, crybaby" You whispered and he looked up at you.
You cleaned the dried blood from his face and managed to apply some saline solution. The entire time, he kept his gaze on you. He noticed how focused you were on his injuries and how gently you managed it.
He held his hands up as you cleaned up his knuckles. They were red from all the punching, and it surprised you how he was still human besides the serum.
You squeeze his hands lightly, too embarrassed to look back at him before apologizing. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. It was a really shitty thing to say, and you don't deserve it. I was an asshole".
Bucky trailed his eyes to scan your face. He had a peaceful look. "I shouldn't have pushed you either. I was just annoyed Sam brought someone up to this mess".
"I accepted it. There's no right or wrong, I wanted to help". You were both still brushing your fingertips against each other.
"You're not bad after all" He mused and you chuckled. "I just- I don't think I can keep losing people".
You saw his raw personality right in front of you. That man who kept his serious and defensive demeanor was showing his true self. It was hard to miss it.
Your hand grasped his jawline, carefully rubbing his skin. He almost faltered. "That won't happen. I got two Avengers to protect me".
He snorted, showing his teeth when he laughed. "Should've seen that coming".
"And more than anyone else, you deserve that happiness. You just need to stop lying about your nightmares".
"How do you-" He was about to ask and you tilt your head.
"Sam and I talk. I know it's hard to erase the past. But you're James again, you're you" Your other hand is still holding him tightly.
Bucky refuses to look at you for a moment. And when he does, his eyes are glassy. "It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me".
You smack your lips. "You need to stop thinking you're making amends. You need to give them closure, be of service for them. Stop thinking like you still owe them just an apology".
He drops his head and bites his lip. You hold his chin up and force him to look at you. "You're not that guy anymore".
You were about to get closer for the hundredth time. Maybe close the gap between you and pull him in for a kiss. Not because you feel bad for him, for his past. But because you feel warmth when you're close to him.
You feel like he could hold the world above your head and fight for you.
That was when his phone started ringing. John killed that kid out of revenge.
~~
You finally meet Sam's sister, Sarah, after he invites you and Bucky home to help him fix his boat. A lot of their neighbors are also helping. There's a gathering with food and drinks by the lake, and every kid is excited to see the soldier. They're all lining up to hang up on his metal arm.
You're watching in the distance as he and Sarah chat about something, while two kids hang themselves on his limb. He seems lighter, happy even.
He has a different look on his face. Especially after Sam finally decided to become who he was supposed to be.
Bucky walks toward you holding two cans of beer in his hand. "You want one?"
He holds one out for you, and you accept it.
"The kids love you, you know?" You speak after sipping on your drink.
"What can I say? I'm pretty charming" He leans against the wall next to you, watching as the sun sets. There's a hue of orange in the sky.
"They only like you because of your arm. Don't get too cocky" You shove him by the arm playfully and he holds your hand for leverage.
Bucky pulls you closer to his body, his chest is heaving against yours. He's taller, so he has to look down at you.
"So you don't think I'm charming?" His words are too soft, but his grip on your waist is almost tight.
"I didn't say that" You smirk and he uses his other hand to rub the pad of his thumb on your lower lip.
The moment you felt his skin against yours, it felt like everything slowed down. Even though he was desperate to finally give you the kiss he'd been wishing for, it was obvious he was too nervous.
Sam's words lingered in your head. He was definitely in need of dates and he refused to accept it. Whatever changed his mind made you realize he had a soft spot for you.
That's what made you take the first step. You finally closed the distance and crashed your lips against his. It tasted like beer. The tiniest movement of your tongue had him groaning in the back of his throat and it almost made you smile.
He slid his tongue against yours and tilted his head for better access. He wished he wasn't holding a beer right now because all he wanted to do was cradle your face and pull you in for a deeper kiss.
Your arms wrapped around his neck and Bucky faltered as you grasped his lip between your teeth. Both tongues were fighting for dominance and you shivered.
The fresh taste of beer in your mouth made his heart flutter inside his chest. His heart was racing and pounding against his ribcage and he felt like the air got knocked out of his lungs.
You both had to pull out for air, his hand not leaving your body for a second. Resting your forehead against his, you watched as he kept his eyes closed.
"I'm glad you're happier now. I can see it right through you"
"Someone gave me a nudge. And Sam is a great friend, much to my disappointment" He joked, giving your lips a chaste peck.
"He said some pretty nasty things about you the other day" You laughed as he displayed a surprised look on his face.
"Oh, he's a dead man".
"Hmm, he might be right" You sipped on your beer, watching as Bucky placed a hand on his hip.
"What was it about?" The soldier mirrored you with his beer.
Getting closer to his face, you spoke against his lips. Voice low and teasing "You'll have to find out".
You gasped as he pulled you harder against his body and kissed you again. This time, it had a different impact, he was rough and needy.
A growth beneath you brushed against your body, and you chuckled between the kiss. Bucky had to pull away from you. He lowered his head and shook it.
"I might know what he meant" He barely had time to laugh as you pulled him in for another kiss.
You didn't even have time to tell Sam goodbye. Next thing you know, you were both in his hotel room, filling the air with a lot of passion and moaning.
You woke up the next day with a weight on you. His metal arm was spread above your body.
Jesus, they needed to get blackout curtains in the bedrooms. You slightly opened one of your eyes and peeked through your lashes as you saw Bucky peacefully sleeping close to you.
A smile escaped from your lips at the thought of the previous night.
Happiness crossed your mind when you cradled his face and traced his jawline. He was definitely happy. And hopefully, soon, the nightmares would go away.
418 notes · View notes
sweetsweetnuit · 2 years
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  on his knees
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synopsis: even the king of the underworld has his weaknesses. bucky’s just happens to be a mortal woman he can’t get enough of.
pairing: bucky barnes (hades/devil) x f!reader
word count: 2.7k
warnings: 18+ ONLY. breaking & entering, ig technically monsterfucking, devil/mortal dynamics a la hades/persephone, dirty talk, teasing, oral (receiving), bucky breaks the wall, pet-names, bucky on his knees for the reader/begging, size kink bc bucky is 6’6 here in my mind, fingering, unprotected sex, power imbalance, possessiveness, this bucky also wears rings and chains and had civil war era hair, idk what else but lmk if i missed anything!!
notes: i wrote this for me, myself, and i <3
The floorboards groaned under your feet as you crept further into your small, New York City apartment. Every creak echoed in your mind, reminding you that he could appear at any moment. That he knew you were home and thinking of him. 
The day weighed heavily on your shoulders, slumped and hunched as you made your way into the tiny kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water. Your muscles ached and begged for some sort of release, but the only release you wanted was his. 
His face was plastered over every news outlet for the past two years, cautioning anyone who may stumble into his path or fall to their knees in front of him in hopes he shows mercy. 
He never does. 
The shower springs to life, spurts of water being the only thing you can hear as you slowly strip your clothes. They fall to the floor unceremoniously where they’ll stay until you find the energy to shove them deep into your hamper. Where you’ll also put off laundry until you run out of clean underwear. 
It’s a dangerous, vicious cycle. 
Everything melts away as you step under the too-hot stream of water. The day runs through your head, along with the too-long list of things you need to do. The bills you need to pay and the commitments you made when you were in a much better mood now plague you. 
“Shit,” you curse under your breath when the stream starts to turn lukewarm. 
You have only a few minutes before it’s ice-cold, spending too much time just standing under the water sulking. A quick lather is all you get before you’re pulling over a large sweater and thick socks. The fabric is long enough to forgo shorts or any type of pants. 
The low hum of traffic on the street fills the living room before you’re on the couch with the TV playing in the background. What you’re really focused on is your phone. No one can stop talking about him, you can’t stop thinking of him. 
It’s driving you mad, keeping him a secret when his face is plastered on every fucking tabloid. Though, you really hope he can’t read minds because you’re sure he wouldn’t be too happy with the thoughts running through yours right now. 
Your nights have been the same. A boring, mundane routine that makes you want to put your head through a wall. But you made a deal. You made a deal with him and whether you like it or not, you’re bound to him. 
Those are the last words that float in your head before you’re drifting off to sleep, entirely unaware of what was about to happen next. 
You groan when you awake, eyelids heavy with sleep as you rub them, adjusting your position only to realize you have a kink in your neck. You’re confused at first, wondering why you’re not in your bed when your eyes flicker to the TV that’s still playing a random episode of something. 
It all clicks as you drag yourself into a sitting position, eyes still adjusting to the darkness after you’ve turned the TV off. The air feels colder and suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck raises like an alert. 
“Hello, my Darling.” His voice flows over you, just above a whisper and you gasp when you realize he’s standing right by your window. 
He turns to face you before cocking his head as a smirk grows across his lips. You’re frozen in place, unable to move as your eyes move over his body. He’s dressed like he always is: black dress pants and a black button down. 
Except tonight, he looks only a little less put together. His hair is mused and tucked behind his ears. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled to expose his forearms and the top few buttons are undone, his dark tattoos just barely visible. 
Your heart kicks in your chest, beating erratically. You still can’t seem to find any words as he makes his way over to you. He towers over you, making you feel like a speck before he bends at the waist to cup your cheek. 
“I’ve missed you,” he purrs, thumb brushing over your cheekbone and you can’t help but lean into his touch because fuck, you’ve missed him too. So goddamn much. 
He stays like that before his thumb moves to your lower lip, brushing over it. Your eyes are locked on his, afraid that if you look away, he’ll disappear like a figment of your imagination. Perhaps you’re still dreaming. 
When he pulls away, it feels like he’s taken a piece of you. You crave him, need to be near him, want his touch. He exudes confidence, watching you with a curious gaze. 
“What’s wrong, Darling?” He asks, though not concerned. He’s amused by your lack of anything. 
You shake your head, quickly standing up and reaching out for him, “I just, I didn’t think you were really here.” 
He smiles, tugging you into his body by your waist until you’re flush with him. He smells exactly the same, a rich woodsy, earthy scent as you smooth your hands over his chest. You know that the man who’s got you in his arms is dangerous, beyond that, even, but you can’t seem to care. 
They always warned you not to make deals with the devil, but they never warned you about how handsome he’d be. 
“I can’t stay away from my girl for long,” he hums. “Not when you’re bound to me.” 
That’s when it hits you, that you’re not only bound to him in this lifetime, but in all others. That no matter what, you’re his and only his. You may not have picked him, but he picked you and that was enough. 
“Did you break into my apartment?” You blurt suddenly, watching the smile erupt on his face along with the sound of his deep laughter. 
“Of course I did.” He replies casually, “What did you expect from the King of the Underworld? Or the Devil as you call it.” 
Something in your chest flutters at the sound of the word, how macabre it really is to be in the arms of the Devil. Yet, in some fucked up way, it excites you. It makes you feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop of mundanity. 
He’s still got you in his arms, fingers running up and down your back as you feel the distinct and heavy weight of the prosthetic one. It sends a chill down your spine and sometimes you wonder if he does that on purpose. 
“Now,” he leans down closer to you. “Are you going to tell me that you’ve missed me too or are you just going to assume I know because of how wet you are already?”
You inhale sharply at his words, curling your toes into the hardwood floors as you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. His dark eyes don’t waver, steady and trained on you and it makes you squirm. 
“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper, barely audible but you know he’s heard you loud and clear. 
He chuckles deeply, his chest vibrating against your own. In an instant, he’s maneuvered you both so he’s on the couch and you’re perched nicely on his lap. 
“I figured as much, I could smell you from across town, Darling.” He rasps, cupping your jaw once again to hold you close to him. 
It’s these moments that you crave and dream about. Constantly wishing it could be the two of you forever. It’s the silly little fantasy that keeps you going, knowing that he needs you just as bad as you need him. 
“Do you remember last time?” He muses, pulling you closer so your core is nestled right above his. You simply nod your head, too aware of his growing length as he rocks you over him gently. 
“I couldn’t get enough of you, Darling. You have any idea how sweet you are?” He whispers against your cheek, fingers digging into your hips as you grind over him. 
“I dream about you, about how you say my name when I’m at home between your thighs.” His voice has become deeper, more gravelly as you let your head fall back and mouth open. 
His lips are soft and warm against your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your flesh. He’s just as addicting as you remember, and his words leave you dizzy for me. 
“Say my name for me, Darling. Or do you want me to get on my knees and beg you?” He asks and you a moan escapes you. 
Your eyes meet his, dark and hungry, but playful. 
“Beg.” 
He licks his lips as you nod and say again. 
“I want to hear you beg.” 
You’re not sure what’s going to come of this, you’re almost certain you’ll regret it, but right now, you don’t fucking care. The mere idea of seeing him on his knees for you is driving you wild and the throbbing between your legs needs to be dealt with. 
“My girl wants to hear me beg, huh?” He smirks, his sharp canines shining under the moonlight. 
You can only nod your head again, fisting the collar of his shirt before you’re moving with him. Your back hits the cool wall, both of his palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. 
He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your head upwards just to meet his eyes. He’s menacing, truly evil and yet, you’ve asked him to beg for you. Maybe you’re just as evil, maybe he’s influenced you enough. 
You watch him drop to his knees in slow motion, the floorboards creaking under his weight. You immediately steady yourself on his broad shoulders as he inches your sweater up to expose your stomach. 
“I have never,” he places a kiss to your skin. “In my life,” another hot kiss, “begged for anything.” 
A shudder runs down your body when his fingers trace the outline of your cotton panties, but his words are the true cause of the sensation. To see him on his knees for you is something you’ll never forget. It may be the only thing you’ll ever think about. 
“But for you, my Darling, I’d do just about anything.” He says, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. 
They’re discarded quickly, your breathing rapid as he hooks a single leg over his shoulder, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his shoulders. He hisses in pleasure, taking a moment to catch his breath. 
When he looks up at you, his eyes have been entirely consumed by darkness. There is no more light to them and you know there’s no going back. He’s got you pinned against the wall, hot breath against your core as he gives you a sinister smile. 
“My Darling,” he purrs, “I beg you, scream my name so loud everyone knows that you are mine.” 
He doesn’t give you any other warning before his tongue is flat against your pussy. Your head hits the wall so hard you think you’ve dented one or the other, but you don’t care. Not when he’s on his knees eating you out like a God. 
“Oh fuck,” you gasp, grasping onto him even tighter. 
You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking, “that’s not what I begged for.” 
Your head is spinning and you feel dizzy already when two thick fingers slip into your entrance, curling so deep inside of you that you lose your breath. His name is on the tip of your tongue, it’s just too bad that he’s stolen your breath. 
“If you want to come, scream my name, Darling.” He says in a tone so soft you could barely tell it was a threat. 
And he’s true to his word, teasing you with slow but meticulous flicks of his tongue in combination with his fingers until you’re on the verge of tears And you think that this must be your purgatory. 
“You can do it, Darling. Say my name and I’ll let you come.” He whispers against your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin. 
“Please,” you’re begging him now, but it doesn’t seem to work. 
A tear slips down your cheek and you’re biting your lip so hard you’ve drawn blood. He’s holding you against the wall with his free arm so squirming is impossible. You’re absolutely stuck.
“Please,” the plea escapes you again. “Please, Bucky.” 
When his name finally leaves your lips, it’s like a bomb goes off. White hot pleasure seeps through every bone in your body and if it wasn’t for Bucky, you’d have collapsed into a pile on the floor. 
He keeps you upright, body pressed firmly against yours as he swallows your cries with his lips against your own. The kiss brings you back to reality, threading your arms around his neck to keep him close. 
“I only ever want to hear my name on your lips, my Darling. No one else’s.” He confesses, breathing just as wildly as you. 
His erection digs against your hip and you’re wild and hungry for him. You’re convinced he can read minds because the next sound you hear is the sound of his belt hitting the floor. 
“Jump,” he commands. 
You do as he catches you, your legs tight around his waist. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly together as he watches you with pure concentration. 
“When I was younger, my mother told me a tale. A tale that I never believed until I met you.” Bucky rasps as your chests meet each others. 
“It was about a fallen angel who fell only to be with a mortal woman. It was said she was so beautiful that he couldn’t stand to be away from her. I always thought it was stupid.” He says with a low growl. 
“Giving up everything for a mortal. I could never understand it.” You feel like your heart is about to burst, Bucky’s dark shadow growing bigger under the moving moon. 
“And then I met you and my world collapsed. I understood the angel then and why he decided to fall. Because if that was the only way I could be with you, well, I’d fall a thousand times, Darling.” 
He fills you in that moment, barely giving you time to adjust. 
“I want to be inside you, filling you up, every goddamn night.” Bucky groans as he fucks you deeply against the wall. 
The wall is shaking, along with all of your decorations with each powerful thrust. You feel secure in his arms, his cock driving against your sweet spot as you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. 
“I want to be worshipping you every night, Darling. My face between your thighs or buried so deep inside of you that you forget your own fucking name. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” 
Something gives behind your back, but you don’t pay it much attention, too focused on the way Bucky is driving into you like his life depends on it. 
“You’re no longer in my dreams, you haunt me.” He growls before you hear another crack and something splinters. 
And splinters further before you’ve realized that there’s a human sized dent in the wall, that Bucky’s fucked you so hard he’s broken the wall and he’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. 
“I need to feel you squeeze me, baby. Come for me, I’m begging you, put me out of my misery.” Bucky grunts before you’re falling over the edge again, this time, wrapped in him. 
You feel him twitching inside of you, finishing before dropping his forehead onto your shoulder to catch his breath. He looks so human in these moments you wonder if he ever misses it. You hope he doesn’t. 
“We broke the wall. My landlord is going to kill me,” you chuckle breathlessly as Bucky smiles lazily. 
“No he won’t.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he gently sets you down on your feet. 
You’re wobbly, shaking even, but you manage to find your bearings as you straighten your sweater and let it fall to your thighs, no longer as exposed as you were just seconds ago. Bucky then steps closer, arm around your waist as he tilts your chin up with a finger.
“Come home, my Darling. Come home to me and let me get on my knees for you whenever you please.” 
6K notes · View notes
Text
Thot?
Bucky Barnes worshipping your breasts.
Pulling your robe open, yanking your bra down, he doesn't care. If he wants his mouth and hands on your tits, let him. Let him suck on and pinch your nipples. Let him groan and smirk when he adds a little bit of teeth. Let him tie one of your hands to the bed so you can't scramble away, but keep the other free for you to grip his hair.
"Don't know why you don't just walk around topless. They're too pretty to cover up. Just like you cunt."
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wintersoldierwhore · 2 days
Text
BREAKING: NEW BUCKY SERIES!
so, in the past i've written small imagines based on ariana grande songs, and i want to start it back up!!! send me song recs and i will write something for ya!
<3
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buckyysdoll · 11 months
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— 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐜𝐬 | 𝐩𝟏/𝟐, 𝐩𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 —
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જ⁀➴ — summary: self explanatory; a/n: just had to purge this from my heart <3; cw: none, but i am about to cry because i love him and it’s making me spiral !; pairing: fatws! bucky x f!reader
MAIN MASTERLIST
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• bucky will always want to touch you in some way, whether in public or the privacy of the apartment you two share
• you’ll often lay just flush against him, all your weight atop his own, as you watch the telly at night or you both just need the warmth of the other
• close enough that you’re sharing breathing space, can bury your face in the crook of his neck and just breathe in his scent, feel his warmth, feel his body.
• and when his arms rove up and down your back in soothing strokes, and he’s whispering words of praise with kisses to your temple, to your forehead as he does? this man is more than your home; he’s more than any love that you’d known your whole life.
• basically, just think of the gif set that i reblogged earlier today — bucky making grab hands as he opens up his arms, waiting for you to come in to the softness of his sweater, and to the man that you would die just to grow old with (makes no sense but is poetic??)
• he fucking adored it when you fell asleep in his arms on that couch; even as husband and wife, those date nights never get old when they end with his arms close around you, both sleepy
• the sound of your breathing just grounds him, so he tries to wait until you fall asleep before he does
• but there are times after a mission where he’s deliriously tired, and mumbles something intelligible about how he’s “gotta wait…can’t sleep yet.”
• but then he promptly does, bless his heart — so you watch him.
• because typically while you succumb to your rest, he would’ve pulled you in to him so he could feel you in his arms
• just the feel of skin on skin, your scent — it’s home to him, his comfort
• because though the world still sees him as the deadly Winter Soldier, he’s really just a man who’s starved of touch — or was till you. He’s only his girl’s husband who plainly adores her, loves sleeping beside her
• because now you do just that with your head to his heartbeat, your favourite sound. and his unchanged hand will card its way through your hair, and play with the strands as he talks. he’ll tell you stories of life in the 40s in a voice growing lower and more husked with fatigue, knowing that you love to hear of his life just as much as his voice.
• because truly it calms you, grounds you, and carves out a safe space you wish you could live in.
• in this though, he won’t ever use his other arm, because the feel of you is all the craves to know — that skin on skin
• he wonders at the way that your body softens under his touch as though you truly so feel safe despite his past, the blood on his hands.
• the hands that after all this time still don’t feel worthy to touch you
• but god, your love is just so soft that you’ll both be all whispers and laughter. sweet nothings are voiced in your ear with his breath just so warm, just so close, and you love him. he’s so teasing and just so comfortable with you, that his nights with you like this are all he could wish for
• you’re his reason for waking each day
• and it’s that kind of love where you wake up in the night and he’ll still be touching you somehow, and no matter how your joint positions shift in throes of sleep, he’s always still holding you by the time you both wake up — a hand held, or an arm around you somewhere
• and so the way he wakes you up is divine.
• it’s him tracing your skin with his fingertips, and marvelling in silence at you as his wife. bonus points for your first night together as a married couple after your wedding, if on the morning after he presses soft kisses your body and says in that low sleep-fogged voice, “good morning, mrs. barnes.”
• because he loves to wake you up like that, with soft touches tracing shapes or brushing hair back from your face. with your upper body bare from the night before’s lovemaking, and your back to his chest with his arm around your waist, bucky’ll lean up on an elbow and press slow kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder; peppering your neck and face with those light little touches, until your eyelids part on his contented, lazy smile against your skin
• the very smile you’d both live and die for
• bucky is definitely that type of husband that instantly stirs awake when you shift in bed, and he’s whining into the crook of your neck with a groan, saying “love, where are you going?”
• and even when you say laugh and say “to the toilet”, he’ll still try to pull you back.
• which he also does in the morning. an alarm goes off and you think of getting up? that vibranium arm around your waist isn’t letting you anywhere — but where else would you want to be, anyway?
• and god, it’s just so warm in his arms. especially on those dark autumn mornings when it’s cold? lazy sundays spent in bed all day with him make your past somehow worth it
• even though he’s a super soldier and has an very high tolerance to alcohol, that doesn’t mean that date nights where you’re both wine drunk don’t leave you all giggly in bed. and god, it’s just like you’re teenagers in love, and not adults who’ve been through hell and back to find each other now.
• bucky definitely does the cold feet on your leg thing in bed, cos your squeal of dismay and surprise makes him laugh so damn hard, even as you lightly swat him
• bucky wakes up in the morning and reaches across the bed for you instantly, that is if you’re not already in his arms. it’s like the first instinct within him.
• and if he wakes up first like he usually does his eyes will threaten tears as he just looks at you. as he sees you — you his wife. You who are the absolute love of his life, and his best friend in one. and try though he may to be stoic to the world, these mornings bring a lump to his throat cos he loves you more than any other person in the world
• he’s just very touchy and clingy, and so are you for him; you love it, you just love him — you live for his sleep-drunk, tired touches
• even if he knows with those super soldier senses that you often are faking still being asleep just to feel those small early affections
• will add more if i think of more? or will make a part two (linked at top) <;3
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kikixreverie · 1 year
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Sweeter mornings
Roommate!Bucky x Female reader
Summary - After an intense night with your roommate, Bucky Barnes, you wake in his arms with the promise he had made to you only hours before playing on your mind, he definitely intends to keep it. Part 2 of sleepless nights.
Word count - 2.8k
Warnings - (18+) smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, friends to lovers, fluff.
A/N - Part 2 of sleepless nights is finally here! After many sleepless nights of my own I might add. Hopefully you all enjoy and it can live amongst it's famed sibling (my most liked/rebloged fic ever). Also this fic could probably be read alone if you haven't read part 1 but I still would recommend reading it for full context.
Sleepless nights (part 1)
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It was almost afternoon when you woke up. No loud alarm to jolt you awake, no rushing to get yourself dressed for work, it was still and calm, something you hadn't experienced much living in an apartment in Brooklyn.
You eyes fluttered open and closed, feeling rested for the first time in a long time, you'd finally slept longer than 5 hours in weeks, though well into the late morning as you could tell.
Thank god for weekends... and thank god for Bucky.
You peaked your eyes open at the reminder of him, and the reminder of what had occurred between you last night, and despite the soothing warmth that surrounded you, for a moment, you worried he would have already fled, but with a gentle tug of an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, your worries were mere worries.
Bucky had stayed.
You didn't let yourself dwell on what that could mean for the both of you, instead you snuggled into his warmth, resting your own hand on the metal one he had on your stomach, pushing away any insecurities and letting yourself enjoy this while you had it.
His legs were entangled with yours under the duvet, nose pressed against the nape of your neck, his other arm under the pillow you rested your head on. You were surrounded by him in the best possible way, that touch-starved part of you basking in the affection of his embrace.
Your eyes fluttered closed again, sinking into the bed when Bucky shifted behind you, his nose pressing against that sensitive spot below your ear, nuzzling slightly before kissing he kisses you there, soft and slow.
You couldn't help but release a pleased sigh, biting your lip when he continued his kissing, trailing his lips down your neck, then kissing your shoulder. You turned in his arms, facing him, and Bucky squeezed your hip in appreciation when you didn't waste any time with kissing him properly, placing your hand on his cheek to rub your thumb across his cheekbone.
Bucky shifted his hand to your thigh, grabbing above your knee to hitch your leg over his, effectively pressing your body against his, and you could already feel his arousal.
You almost felt guilty as you recalled last night, remembering that you had gone to sleep before returning the favour, leaving Bucky to deal with himself.
You wondered if he had managed to get himself off, but considering he had cuddled up to you last night in the same position you woke in, you doubt he had the chance. Which is why you didn't hesitate to push him onto his back, straddling his stomach as you kissed him harder.
You were both out of breath, lips kiss bitten and cheeks heated when Bucky pulled away from you, panting with his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.
You were in a similar state, though you tried to force down a smile when you realised that you had somehow managed to get a super solider out of breath, something you knew didn't happen often.
"I should get you some food, it's the afternoon." Bucky said in a raspy, unbelievably sexy, morning voice, the first words spoken since last night. He opened his eyes to look up at you, and you instantly recalled the image of his head between your legs last night, and huffed a laugh at the almost shy look he had on his face now.
"I'm not hungry." You replied, pouting slightly, shifting yourself backwards to sit further on his hips, your ass brushing against his hard cock still confined to his boxers, and a rush of air slipped past Bucky's lips, quickly reaching for your waist and holding you in place.
"Honey, I-" He stopped himself, getting distracted by the sight of your bare chest above him, before dragging his eyes back to yours again, his cheeks pinker. He licked his lips as he failed to regain his focus, furrowing his brows to try to seem more stern, "You need to eat."
"And I will, after you fulfil that promise you made to me last night." You reminded him, kissing his soft lips again, watching how his eyes fluttered closed and he lifted his head to follow your lips when you pulled back, desperate for it to continue. His hips lifted of the own accord from the mattress when you crawled down his body, trailing kisses as you went, just as Bucky had to you last night. You thought it only fair for you to torture him the same sweet way he did you.
You looked up at him when you reached his boxers, watching as he wet his lips with his tongue while you lowered yourself to kiss the dip between his abs, biting your lip in appreciation of the sight of the happy trail that led from his navel, down to where his boxers covered him.
You smiled up at him when Bucky finally lifted his hips slightly to let you slide them off.
God was he a pretty sight.
His cock was desperately hard, already leaking and a deep flush of red from the tip down, Bucky hissed at the sensation of the cool air alone against him, you could only imagine how sensitive he'd be for your tongue.
You gently took his cock in your hand, watching Bucky's face the entire time, not wanting to take your eyes away from him.
As you pumped him from base to tip, he instantly lifted his hips, whispering curses under his breath, you wondered how long it had been since he last came, by the sight of him, it was a while.
"You okay, Buck?" You asked sweetly, continuing to pump your hand on his length slowly, before rubbing your thumb across the slit at the tip, spreading his desire down his cock, using it to make the soft glide of your hand smoother.
He nodded, his lips parted, watching you with bated breath. You lowered your head closer to him, and Bucky fought with that desperate urge to lift his hips again, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth when you kissed the tip of him, and again, and again and again. Kisses peppered across his cock until he was practically begging.
"Please, honey."
You throbbed between your legs at the sound of him begging you, calling you honey with a voice sweeter than the stuff. You squeezed them together to relieve the ache before you gave him what he needed. How couldn't you?
He moaned when you finally took him into your mouth, teasing the tip of him with your tongue before taking him deeper and hollowing your cheeks around him, your own moan vibrating around his cock when his flesh hand found its way to your head, not forcing any movement, only encouraging you at your own pace.
His body seemed to be out of his control, and Bucky never expected that feeling not to fill him with fear, though in this moment, all he could focus on was the feeling of your hot, wet tongue against his cock, that lust in your eyes when you looked up at him through your lashes.
He didn't think much before he said it, just suddenly filled with the desperation to be as close to you as possible, to be inside of you, make up on that promise.
"Can I fuck you, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice still rough and his breath uneven. He let out another sweet sound when you swirled your tongue around him before pulling your mouth away, nodding in agreement as you quickly crawled back up his body and crashed your lips to his, Bucky's hand cupping your face as he leant up on his elbow, meeting you halfway, kissing you senseless as you situated yourself above his cock and reached between you to sink down onto him, already wet and throbbing with need.
Bucky's eyes rolled back as you slowly sank onto him, tight and wet and fucking perfect. His hand slid between your thighs to gently rub your clit, not wanting you to experience any discomfort, and you moaned against his lips, pressing your forehead to his when you were finally seated, Bucky's cock buried deep inside you.
"Fuck." He breathed, waiting patiently for you to start moving, and when you started rocking your hips, grinding yourself down against him, he smiled as he bit his lip, before he used his other hand to grip your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, guiding your open mouth to his.
"Bucky-" You rasped, moaning as he teased his tongue into your mouth, his flesh hand still focused on rubbing your clit, his cock barely moving inside you, only keeping you nice and full.
"You close already, sweetheart?" He joked, though the words held no judgement, he was smitten with himself, pulling back to watch your face contort as you edged closer and closer to an orgasm, his fingers moving faster, your hips bucking against him, which only made his cock nudge a spot deep inside you that made you see stars. You were clenching around him and Bucky groaned as you did so. "C'mon honey, cum on my cock."
Your head tipped back as you fell over the edge, your orgasm washing over you in intense waves as Bucky guided you through it, rubbing your clit until it had passed.
"Good girl. You're so perfect, doll." Said Bucky, giving you a few more seconds to recuperate as he kissed down your neck.
When he pulled back to look at you again, that devious smile you had seen a glimpse of last night had returned to his face, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, his metal hand moving to your thigh, dimpling your flesh with the gentlest of squeezes. You almost asked him to squeeze harder.
You bit your lip at his words, huffing a laugh at the state of yourself as you came down from your high, though you were still incredibly hyper-aware of Bucky's cock still inside you, throbbing with need, along with your heart racing in your chest.
You were taken by surprise when he flipped you over, your back hitting the bed with him looming over you, pure, wanton lust in his blue eyes.
You moaned when the movement made the tip of his cock nudge against a spot inside of you that brought a jolt of pleasure, and Bucky seemed to appreciate the sound, watching you as he rolled his hips forward, so perfectly deep inside you.
"C'mon, Buck." You begged, that need for him to finally take you rising steadily in your core.
His eyes darkened and he took your wrists in his hands, pressing them into the mattress above your head with his right hand, as his left travelled to your chest, slowly rubbing your nipple with his thumb.
"You can ask me nicer than that, honey. C'mon pretty baby, say it again. Ask me better. Tell me what you want." He practically purred, his voice liquid honey. His head dipped to lick the nipple he hadn't yet paid attention too, looking up at you when he took it into his mouth, and you arched into his touch, every word that comes out of his mouth only building your desire.
With a mouth like that, you would do virtually anything he asked you to.
"Please, James. I need you to fuck me. God, please, I need it so bad." You whispered breathily, not even comprehending that you had called him by his first name, something you had never done, and he all but growled.
His lips were on yours instantly, tongue dipping past your lips as he finally released your hands and used his arm to wrap around your thighs, just about bending you in half as he finally began to thrust into you, starting slower than you knew he wanted to.
When you threw your head back and cried out at the satisfaction of it, Bucky knew he would be okay to fuck you harder, and before you knew it, his hips were slamming into yours hard, the friction of his cock rubbing against your walls and finding home deep inside you had you arching your body into him, your hands grasping his back, nails scratching into his skin, you almost felt like you would cum again already.
Bucky was just as much of a mess as you, sinful noises escaping past his parted lips, his eyebrows furrowed tightly as he chased his pleasure, dizzy with need, and enraptured with the feel of your hot, wet cunt clenching around him, a perfect fucking fit.
He couldn't help but watch you, your teeth holding your bottom lip, eyes closed.
He released your legs so that he could kiss you again, moaning into your mouth when your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling gently.
Holding himself up with his right arm, his left hand drifted to your chest again, cupping your breast as he tugged at your lip with his teeth, before gliding his thumb across your nipple, the gentle stimulation a perfect contrast to the way he fucked you harder than you ever knew you desperately needed.
You could barely keep yourself quiet, the experience of having sex with your roommate, whom you've been obsessing over for months, was beyond your comprehension. You knew Bucky had already ruined any prospect of another man, not that you would ever want another man anyway.
It was rough and needy, a sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies, almost feral but god knows the both of you needed it. There was still somehow a softness at the same time, the subtle touches felt just as intense as everything else.
Neither of you wanted it to end, but neither of you had much hope of holding out for much longer.
Bucky was already surprised he'd lasted this long, having technically accidentally edged himself last night, and with the way your mouth was on him earlier, he was absolutely intoxicated with your body.
"Fuck, you feel so good." Bucky husked, resting his forehead on yours so that you could both breath once you'd run out of air. You opened your eyes to meet his as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, your second orgasm creeping closer and closer. "Do you feel good, sweet girl? Look how good you take me, fucking perfect."
Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning at every sensation, gasping at his words, seconds away from coming undone, "James, please."
"Fuck, sweetheart, open your eyes. That's it, look at me, baby. Are you gonna cum?" He asked, though he knew the answer, your legs had wrapped themselves around his waist, your pussy clenching down on him perfectly. He certainly wouldn't be far behind.
You nodded, staring into those blue eyes with your own half lidded, your lips parted and kiss bitten, his metal hand held your jaw gently, only inches away from where he could be holding your throat instead, though you fought the urge you had to move his hand, knowing it might cross a line for him. That didn't stop you from imagining him doing it anyway, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to not be uncomfortable, but still make your heart beat faster in your chest.
Your orgasm hit you then, washing over you with an intensity you were learning apparently came with Bucky's touch. Your hips lifted to meet his, his cock so deep inside you as you clenched down on him.
Bucky came with a broken moan, rolling his hips into yours with deep, shallow thrusts, painting your walls with his cum.
It soothed a burning heat deep inside him, the both of you completely blissed out in the afterglow as you came down, catching your breath as his head dipped to rest on your collarbone.
Your hands were in his hair as he relaxed on top of you, though he still held most of his own weight as to not completely squish you.
"Fuck, Bucky." You breathed, smiling and shaking your head as you played with his hair.
He lifted his head and looked at you, that puppy dog look returning as though he hadn't just fucked you like his life depended on it only minutes ago.
"You okay?" He asked, chiding himself mentally that he hadn't checked up on you already, too lost in the ongoing sensations, and the fact that he was still inside of you.
You nodded, smiling, your fingers drifting to dust across his cheeks, tracing his features gently with your fingertips, the soft touches soothing not only Bucky but yourself too. He closed his eyes at the gentle touch, then kissed you, softer, but somehow more intense, and with something in his eyes when he pulled back that made you blush like you weren't naked beneath him.
"You're the best roommate ever." You joked, raising your eyebrows at him and holding his face in your hands, Bucky laughed softly.
"Well, I was hoping I could be something more than that?" He replied, tilting his head at you, smiling when you nudged your nose against his.
A part of you was still insecure, worried that he didn't like you in the way you did him, but another part of you told you to look at the way he was looking back at you, soft, sweet eyes, and his hands hadn't left your skin all morning, unable to tear them away. You'd both talk properly soon, and you were hopeful of how that conversation would go.
"Hm, I think that could be a good idea, Mr Barnes." You kissed him again, though he pulled away before you were done.
A smirk grew on his lips and the sight made your stomach flutter. He shifted impossibly closer to you. "You keep talking like that, sweetheart, and I'm gonna have to fuck you again."
His ability to switch between puppy dog and cocky bastard was definitely going to be something you were gonna have to get used to, but it wasn't something you didn't appreciate, you smirked all the same, fingers brushing through his soft hair, "You'd be more than welcome to... Mr Barnes."
He laughed quietly, "Oh I will, darling. Still gotta get some food into you first though."
You rolled your eyes playfully, though didn't disagree with him, your light dinner last night did not account for the intense cardio you did not expect yourself to be doing this morning. Nodding along to his words, you kissed him again, wrapping your limbs around his body to pull him as close as possible. You just couldn't get enough.
The kiss ended but Bucky stayed close, whispering against your lips, "If you're a good girl, I'll take you on the kitchen counter."
You couldn't have gotten out of bed and into the kitchen quicker, leaving Bucky smiling to himself in your bed.
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hey murphy!! i saw that you’re still accepting or going forth with your 3k celebration, so curiosity struck me…
could i order a rum with bucky barnes?
(i wanna hear some headcannons you got for this man. i can’t help but ask! but ofc if you’re too busy with honey girl chapter 5 i totally get it, i hope all is well and take care of yourself darling ❤️)
Bucky Barnes Headcanons.
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warnings - sexual content.
my love, thank you for this!! if anyone agrees/disagrees or has any thoughts on these, please feel free to discuss/send them to my inbox. <3
3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.
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- I think Bucky wants a simple life. Definitely appreciates the little things. I think he'd thrive in a 'regular' job - working weekdays, weekends off, probably something physical/manual. Maybe a small town, away from the city. The man needs a break.
- The most observant lover/partner. Because he's always kind of 'on guard', he notices everything. Can and will read you like a book.
- Would definitely use/benefit from therapy eventually. I know he didn't like it in TFATWS, but I think after those events, his eyes open a little. Learns the importance of communication and tries his best.
- Doesn't want children. Between the whole super soldier age thing and the trauma, I don't believe he's ever going to want kids. Marriage is definitely on the cards, though. He'd look handsome in a tux.
- He'd definitely benefit from a pet of some kind. I know he has Alpine in the comics, but I do think a dog would benefit him. Not a puppy, but a rescue. Something he can focus his attention on, it offers comfort, gets him out the house a couple of times a day.
- It'd take some time, but once he lets his guard down again, his love language is touch. Touches you all the damn time. His hand on your back, your hips, in your back pocket. Linking his fingers with yours whenever you're close enough. Fiddling with your hair. Kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth whenever you give him the chance.
and now onto the sexy stuff...
- I have a firm belief that this man is filthy. Fucks like he's feral. Sweaty, dirty, we're-definitely-going-to-hell type sex.
- I think after he's worked through some of his trauma, he's using that metal arm. The temperature play? He's into it. He likes to watch you gasp. Shiver. Shake.
- He's a grabber. He's so strong, he's leaving bruises wherever he's got a hold of you. Hips, ass, wrists. He'll apologise, at first. Later, he won't.
- Likes his hair pulled. Hard. Likes to toe the line between pain and pleasure. He likes that edge. Likes it when you bite him. Loves when you scratch your nails down his skin.
- Thrives on intimacy. Loves to be skin to skin with you. Wants every part of himself to be plastered to every part of you. Presses your foreheads together, swallows your moans straight into his mouth. Puts his mouth next to your ear so you get a front row seat to the delicious sounds he makes.
in conclusion, he's perfect, your honour.
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please feel free to send me any opinions on these!! agree, disagree, expand.. if you send me a thought (feel free to get dirty ;)) I'll always expand and maybe write a little for it... <3
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cherrypickertheory · 2 years
Text
Test Drive (Oneshot)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Bucky has a breeding kink.
Words: 2.8k
Warnings: smut (18+), female receiving oral, penetrative sex
A/N: LOL HEY EVERYBODY! this one has been in my drafts for over a year and I rewatched civil war yesterday so I’m mentally prepared to write about bucky barnes again. hope everyone is well love u all xoxoxoxo GIF IS NOT MINE
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“I don’t understand. Is this gift for Pepper, or for their kid?” Bucky raised up a set of booties meant for a toddler, sticking one of his fingers inside the tiny shoe. “Don’t tell me it’s for Stark.”
“I have no clue,” you answered honestly. “It’s a baby shower, but the baby isn’t even out of the womb yet, so I don’t understand why we are giving things to it.”
Bucky chuckled at your words. “I mean, it’ll be out soon.”
“I’m just saying, I like Pepper way more than I like that thing, and she’s doing all the work. So we’re supposed to just give it all the credit?”
Your super-soldier boyfriend laughed harder now, walking around you to another aisle in the baby store. “I feel like giving the baby a gift is the same thing as giving Pepper a gift. Less money for them to spend.”
You had to give him that one. “Fair enough.”
“I had no idea you had this side to you,” Bucky picked up a onesie, holding it up to his chest. It was baby blue with an elephant printed on the chest.
“‘This side’?” You walked over to him and looked through the baby clothing. You found a tiny onesie that read I just traveled through a birth canal and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.
“A baby-hating side.”
You gasped. “I don’t hate babies!”
Your boyfriend raised his eyebrows skeptically and walked around you. “Suuuuure, Y/N.”
“I don’t!” You defended, following after him, taking that onesie with you. It’ll have to do. “I mean, I don’t hate their kid, I just think the parents—especially Pepper—deserve more credit than something that can’t even take care of itself when it comes out. Giraffes run the second they’re out of the womb.”
Bucky shook his head, laughing lightly. 
“You don’t agree?” You stepped through the narrow aisles to get in front of him. 
“Weirdo. What do we do, then? Wait till the kid can hunt? Give it a gift then?” 
You pondered that. “Ugh, no. We have to give it something, even though all it has done for the past nine months is sit around in Pepper. Lazy bastard.”
Bucky wrapped his hands around your hips and brought him close to you. “What would you want for your baby shower?”
“An air fryer,” you answered immediately.
He rolled his eyes playfully at your answer. “You wouldn’t want a stroller or something?”
You looked over to your left, where a fancy looking stroller was parked. “Babies should be able to hunt and gather within a week of exiting the womb.”
“That’s my girl.” Bucky planted a kiss on your forehead. “We’ll complain about it to Tony. He’ll come up with something to fix that. So what’re we getting them?”
“This.” You held up the onesie. 
“Is that enough?”
You shrugged. “He’s a billionaire. They’ll be fine.”
Bucky nodded in agreement, holding up his wrist to check the time. “We gotta go, we’re going to be late.”
“We have to stop shopping for things the day of,” you walked toward the cash register, Bucky right behind you.
“Never,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.
Bucky parked himself with the rest of the boys in the kitchen of Tony and Pepper’s apartment. All of the women were in the living room, watching Pepper open her gifts. 
“Are you happy it’s almost over?” Bruce asked Tony, taking a long sip of his beer. 
“Yes and no,” Stark answered honestly. “I’m really excited to have kids with her, I’ve wanted to for a while.” Tony’s eyes were filled with love and admiration for Pepper as he gazed at her from across the room. It was heartwarming. 
“So why the ‘no’?” Steve asked. He was sitting right next to Bucky, drinking some cocktail Tony came up with. He had called it the Optimus Prime, words that meant nothing in Bucky’s brain. Tony had tried to explain the reference, but Bucky made him stop talking after he mentioned it was about cars coming to life. Further proof technology has come way too far. Everything should have stopped evolving after the iPod. 
“Because the sex I’ve had in the past few months has been the best I’ve ever had.” 
“Really?” Bucky questioned. He wasn’t sure why, but this surprised him. 
Tony nodded, eyes focused on Pepper. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe because it’s my kid in her, I dunno. I just know that it’s been a major turn-on. So it’s a bummer that that’s over.”
Bucky’s imagination was immediately filled with images of you through the stages of pregnancy, carrying his kid. You, getting rounder and fuller, filled with him.
His eyes flashed over to you. You were sitting on the same chair as Natasha, holding a glass of wine. Bucky tried to get that picture out of his head and focus on you instead, because it was making him feel a little animalistic. He shifted his weight in his seat.
His staring and fidgeting did not go unnoticed. “Bucko’s already thinking about it,” Tony laughed.
Bucky turned back over to his friends, ears red. “Shut up, man.”
“Would you guys want kids?” Banner asked him, and Bucky looked back over at you.
“Haven’t talked or thought about it,” Bucky answered honestly. You were whispering something in Natasha’s ear that was making her laugh. Bucky would put his money on guessing you were making fun of babies again. “We’re not ready for that. Not right now, anyway.” 
“You’ve got a lot of time,” Steve remarked. 
Bucky nodded, trying to get his mind off of imagining you pregnant. Heavier. With him.
Day had slipped into night by the time you two left the Stark baby shower. Because all of you lived in Avengers Tower, the walk back to the apartment you and Bucky shared was short. 
Bucky was thankful. He could only go so many hours trying to fight off every thought he had of you pregnant with his child.
Neither of you talked. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but was thick. Words were unsaid.
Once you got to your door, you stopped and waited for Bucky to unlock it. 
“You okay?” Your brow furrowed. He looked… not angry, but like something was on his mind.
He didn’t answer, just focused on unlocking the door. An image of him rubbing your pregnant belly while you rode him flashed in his brain, and he dropped the key.
You laughed lightly. That was unlike him. “Bucky,” you squatted down with him when he bent over to grab the keys.
“Y/N,” he countered, mirroring your tone. He stood up, trying to get the door open for a second time. He felt like something feral had been awakened inside of him. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to focus, and got the door open.
Bucky walked inside immediately. Normally he would wait and let you go first, but he had no time for civility, no time for manners, not now.
“After you,” you said under your breath, sarcastically. As you walked inside, you thought about what happened at the baby shower, trying to figure out what had annoyed Bucky so much. He had grumbled something earlier about how cars shouldn’t be able to become human, but this didn’t seem like that. If it was, he was turning into an old man faster than you thought. “Look, I know baby showers aren’t exactly a rager, but I thought it was a nice get toget—”
He caught you off guard by slamming you into the wall behind you, his hands cupping your cheeks. Bucky’s teeth clashed and clamored with yours, his tongue slicked in and out of your mouth. 
You pushed his shoulders back gently, and while he pulled away, his hands still held onto your face. Bucky’s hot breath fanned your skin, and his thumb lightly traced your bottom lip. The energy had shifted from primal to caring in a matter of seconds—you couldn’t keep up with Bucky, you never have. 
“Are you okay?” You whispered.
He nodded, a light smile spreading across his lips. “Are you?”
“Yes. But I’m confused.”
The pad of his thumb tugged lightly at your bottom lip, opening your mouth slightly. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead said, “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you leaned backwards. “Oh, are you now?”
“Yep. If you’ll let me.”
“Now? Now, now?” Your hands attached to his wrists, and you lifted his hands from your face.
“Doesn’t have to be now, I know you’re on the pill. Just eventually. I want you to know that I want that with you.”
“Oh,” you squeaked. You weren’t sure what to say to that. No one had ever told you they were going to put a baby in you before. “Maybe you should buy me dinner first,” you joked.
He ignored it. “Maybe we can… I dunno,” Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, and his hands clasped around the softness of your hips. He squeezed gently. “Take it for a test drive?”
“What is up with you and cars today?”
He smiled lightly, and moved his hands to your ass. He cupped it and brought him closer to you. “Yes or no?”
“To you breeding me?”
You had said the word jokingly, but a dark fire lit in his eyes. The way he was looking back at you made your heart skip. Real eloquently, you stammered: “O—Oh.”
Bucky started crouching in front of you, planting kisses down your neck and onto your clothed chest. After he kissed your lower stomach, he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “You have to say yes, sweetheart.”
All you could do was nod as his hands, still cupping your ass, squeezed again. 
“No, Y/N. You have to say it.”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Test drive.”
“Test drive,” he agreed. Then, he stood up, and threw you over his shoulder, fireman-style.
You reached down and spanked him as he took both of you to the bedroom, which he promptly returned. “What brought this on, exactly?”
“Pepper.”
Your brow furrowed. “Pepper?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, put me down.” 
Bucky sighed and kept walking, keeping you over his shoulder. Once you got to the bedroom, he threw you—gently—onto the bed. “I need you to explain this a little bit more to me.”
He sat down next to you, hands rubbing up and down his thick thighs. He was nervous, you could tell. Nervous, and incredibly turned on by the looks of his crotch. 
When he didn’t respond, you pressed further. “You want to get me pregnant because you like how Pepper looks when she’s pregnant?”
“What?” His gaze snapped towards yours. He laughed lightly. “No. Pepper is a good-looking girl, but no.”
“Then… what?”
He sighed. “Tony was saying how he’s had the best sex of his life the past few months with her, while she was pregnant,” he glanced over at you again, eyes flashing towards your midsection. “He made a commen—look, are we doing this, or no?”
“What comment?” You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. You wanted to know exactly what was turning Bucky on so much about this. “You can tell me, you know. Future father of my children.”
Bucky swallowed. “My kid in you. Me, doing that, to you.”
Your mouth went dry. You hadn’t really thought of it like that before. 
“You,” he continued, gently pushing you onto your back on the bed. “Growing because of me. Growing with me. With us.” Bucky had propped himself as lightly as he could on top of your hips, sitting on you. The weight of him felt good on top of you.
His fingers grazed your face, holding your head in his hands. “Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly. It was all you could manage. 
He grabbed both of your hands from off of his muscular thighs and pinned them above your head. “‘S all I can think about. Going fucking crazy imagining touching you, looking like that.”
You moaned unabashedly. You could see just why this was driving Bucky so fucking feral earlier.
“Let me, honey.” Bucky pleaded, even though he already had your permission. “Let me make you mine.”
“Yes,” you repeated. “Bucky, yes.”
“Test drive,” he promised, kissing your forehead. Bucky pulled your jeans off, and then your panties. He left a trail of kisses down your torso, all the way down your core. 
“Bucky, I can’t wait—” you begged him to begin. You felt animalistic. 
“You can, and you will,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, the bastard. Then, his tone changed as he kissed the inside of your thighs: “Not long, sweetheart.”
You whined again, which just turned him on even more. 
Bucky’s strong hands squeezed the sides of your hips, quite possibly his favorite part of your body. He thought about how your body would change while you carried his child: your skin would glow, your torso would get rounder, heavier, your tits—
Bucky almost finished right then and there.
His tongue swirled around your core, sucking and focusing on your clit. Your hands were tangled in his hair. Once, when Bucky hit your spot, you yanked the hardest you ever have. Your heart stopped, worrying you hurt him.
He could read your mind, you swore it. “You can’t hurt me, baby. Now let go.”
And you did, right under his tongue. Your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t open your eyes if you tried.
Without wasting any time, Bucky wrapped his arms around your limp body, lifting you onto his lap, kissing your face, neck, ears, hair. You felt him slip himself inside you, and you gasped.
“This is my favorite,” he whispered in your ear. He had you pulled close to him, facing him. When he kissed you, all you could manage was a sloppy kiss back. “Overstimulated.”
You agreed with him, but didn’t have the oxygen to tell him. Bucky could feel you pulse around him, still reeling from your last orgasm. That feeling alone was enough to send him over the edge, but he forced himself to maintain composure. If only for a few seconds, at least.
“Bucky,” all you could manage was to hold his face in your hands. You looked him in the eyes, and gasped again once you saw his pupils were totally dilated. 
“Y/N, honey,” his voice was thick and raspy with desire. He thrust himself into you, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Just a few more moments, Bucky thought to himself, and flipped the both of you over, still holding you close to him. Now, on your back, your neck buried itself in a pillow behind you. You had grabbed fistfuls of his ass, squeezing every time he pounded into you. 
You were both close. 
You. Full of him.
You weren’t sure if you screamed, or you just felt like you did. Either way, you had the strongest orgasm of your life right under his touch. Bucky soon followed, and let himself fill you up. Just with him.
He collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Both of your bodies were sticking together with sweat. You were shaking, and he hadn’t gotten control of his breathing.
A few minutes went by. Bucky had tried to roll off of you, so as not to suffocate you, but you held on tighter. “No.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Finally, you sat up. Bucky turned so he was laying on his back, and sighed softly as you started tracing his chest and stomach with your finger. “So…”
“So….?” He copied your tone.
“Whe—” You blushed, and put your head in your hands.
Bucky couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He just ate you out and got you off to the idea of breeding you, but now you’re shy? Bucky grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and lowered them from your face. “Tell me, baby.”
You rolled your eyes and laid on top of him. You couldn’t look him in the eye, and Bucky knew it. 
He loved you so much.
“When are we doing that for real?” You whispered.
Bucky gently cupped your chin and made you hold eye contact. “Whenever you want.”
“Well, I definitely want to.”
“I can tell,” he smirked.
You hit his chest lightly. “Shut up. That was the most turned on I’ve ever seen you.”
“Oh, completely. I had a hard on the entire fucking baby shower.”
You covered your face, laughing. He joined you, giggling right with you. “I feel so unashamed when it comes to you.”
You looked up at him once more. “I want you, everyday.” 
A smile grew on his face. “Let’s buy this car, then.”
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