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#bucky barnes
simplyholl · 3 days
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Reckless
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Summary: When you act recklessly on a mission, Bucky gets mad at you.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.
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You had really done it now. You made Bucky so mad, he couldn’t even look at you. You were paired together for a mission, and you acted recklessly. You got separated from him and instead of waiting for him, you found the Hydra bunker where they were hiding.
You burst in without a plan and they would have most likely killed you. But Bucky came in and saved you. On the way back, he wouldn’t look at you, speak to you, or even acknowledge your existence.
It took a lot for him to get angry. So you didn’t know how you could fix this. You were such good friends, and he always made time for you. It was going on three days and he ignored every text, call, FaceTime, and knock on his door. You didn’t even know why he was so upset with you. You had done stupid stuff during missions before.
Finally you had enough of the silent treatment, so you waited until it was his normal time to train. He liked to work alone, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone else being there and interrupting you. You made your way to the gym, disappointed that he wasn’t there, nobody was.
You were just about to leave and come up with another plan when you heard someone in the men’s locker room. You hoped it was Bucky as you entered, the smell of soap filled the steamy room. Your sneakers squeaked with every step on the wet tile floor.
You heard Bucky singing some old fashioned song. Following his voice passed the lockers, you step over Thor’s discarded shorts. You shake your head, feeling sorry for the cleaners Tony hired. You see Bucky’s head peaking over the shower door. For a split second, you debate turning around. But you want your friend back more than anything, so you continue all the way to the showers.
“James, we need to talk.” Bucky jumps at the sound of your voice. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.” He rolls his eyes, turning towards the spray of water. “You wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t know when I’d be able to catch you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he picks up the shampoo bottle squirting some into his palm.
“I’m sorry for what I did. I just want you to talk to me.” He reaches up to wash the shampoo out of his hair, eyes closed. “I know you can hear me. Bucky, please?” You beg him but he continues ignoring you. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to. You set your phone down on the bench beside you. You reach down to take off your shoes then your socks.
You grab the handle to the shower door, letting yourself inside. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees you in the shower with him. He makes an awkward attempt to cover his self. “Get out of here!” You walk over to him, “No! This is the only way to get you to pay attention to me!” You walk closer, “Tell me why you’re so mad at me.”
Bucky watches as the water sprays you, making your already tight workout clothes cling to your body. His throat bobs as he finally answers. “I’m not mad, I’m furious. You weren’t thinking. You never do. You went by yourself when you were told to wait, and if I hadn’t been close by, you would be dead.”
“I do stuff like that all the time, Buck. Why did it make you so upset?” Bucky takes a step toward you, removing his hands from his hardening cock. “Because I care about you! If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after that stunt you pulled.”
That was just the answer to send all your worries about crossing boundaries out the window. You press yourself against him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. When his lips met yours, it was like you were the only people in the whole world.
His metal hand makes quick work of your sports bra, ripping it right off you. The warm palm of his flesh hand meets your breast. He groans against your neck as his hands travel lower. He jerks your leggings off in one swift motion, throwing them to the side with a wet thud.
You were never so thankful that you didn’t wear panties as you were today. He reaches between you, long fingers dipping into you. You were so wet just from arguing with him, and he knew it. “All this from fighting with me, doll?” He smirks, knowing the effect it will have on you. You clench around his fingers as he curls them upward, his palm gently brushing your clit. “James” you moan, grasping his shoulders for support.
He removes his fingers from you, turning you around so fast that you don’t have time to register how empty you feel now. Bucky presses his body to your back, trapping you between him and the shower door. The cool door makes your nipples harden against it. You feel Bucky’s hard cock rub against the curve of your ass. You try to move to create some type of friction between you, but you can’t. His big body doesn’t budge. He uses his leg to spread you further.
You gasp as he thrusts into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before he plunges deeper, bottoming out. You claw at the shower door, as his thrusts grow brutal. His metal arm wraps around your waist, holding you where he wants you while his flesh hand grabs your chin. He tilts your face to look at him, “Are you going to do anything that stupid ever again?” He asks, his cock brushing that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.
You can’t form words, it feels too good. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” Your eyes are glossy, you try to answer but you only make sounds. “My pretty baby, she’s too cock drunk to talk. Is that it, doll? Is my cock too much?” You manage to whisper yes, sending his ego into overdrive.
“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel like I do. I’ll never touch you again, if you don’t follow orders. Am I understood?” Visions of his old army days flood your mind, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. “Y-yes sir.” You stutter. He seems satisfied with your answer, holding you closer to him. His fingers dig into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, marking you as his.
He snaps his hips one last time, burying his face into your shoulder as he comes inside you. He stays like that for a minute, catching his breath before turning you around. He checks all over your body, his forehead wrinkling as he notices the multiple marks he left behind. “Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so caught up in the moment-“
“It’s okay. I really liked it.” You confess. Bucky sighs in relief, bringing you back under the water, he starts to wash you. “Hey what about me?” Bucky smirks, “What about you, doll?” He washes down your arms. “I didn’t get off.” You state matter of factly. “Oh, I know. Only good girls get to cum.”
Tags
@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck
623 notes · View notes
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just how rich is mafia bucky
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Filthy rich.
A no limit on his card, spend whatever you want kind of rich.
Laughing and saying he can make more when his wife asked if she had spent too much kind of rich.
Casually buying his wife whatever he thinks will make her happy kind of rich.
Splurging on her interests just to see her smile kind of rich.
248 notes · View notes
purple-babygirl · 2 days
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don't call me daddy V
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader Word count: 4,660 Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails. Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜
~
When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger seat.
Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.
His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.
He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.
Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.
Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.
In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.
It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.
He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.
But something was missing still.
Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.
What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.
She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.
It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.
And to do that, he had to know more.
“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.
“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed, “why?”
“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”
She laughed, “really?”
“Really.”
Oh, this wasn’t a joke?
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.
“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.
He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.
“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.
“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”
“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.
“I’m serious, doll.”
“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.
“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”
“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.
He’s made her feel the same way.
He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.
“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”
Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.
“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”
“I’m so sorry-”
She shook her head, stopping him.
“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.
Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.
“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.
“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.
“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.
“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.
She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”
“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.
“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”
“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”
“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”
“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”
“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”
The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.
“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”
“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”
“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.
~ After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.
She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.
His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.
It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.
“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”
He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.
“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.
~
Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.
She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.
“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.
She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.
But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.
Moments like these definitely required a daddy.
“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.
Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”
“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.
Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”
She tilted her head expectantly.
What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-
“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”
Oh, that was something she could do.
“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.
“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.
“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.
“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.
Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.
~
Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.
Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.
Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.
Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.
Tonight was one of those nights.
It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.
But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.
He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.
He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.
“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.
“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.
“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.
“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.
“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”
“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.
The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.
He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.
“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.
“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.
When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.
“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.
“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.
“But-”
“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.
Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.
“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.
Of course she did!
That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.
This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.
“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”
“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”
“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”
“What would you like then?”
“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”
Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.
“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.
She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”
“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”
Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.
~
Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.
She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.
He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.
She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.
There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.
With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.
One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.
It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.
When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.
He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.
He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.
 “Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.
“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.
Bucky froze.
It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.
“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.
“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.
“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.
“Can I choose Adam, too?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.
She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.
“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.
One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.
~
Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.
But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.
When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.
She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”
Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.
“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.
“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.
“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.
“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”
“Really?” She sniffed.
“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.
“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.
“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.
“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.
“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.
“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.
“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.
He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.
“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.
“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.
“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.
“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.
“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.
And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him. He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.
~
“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.
She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.
“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.
Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he promised.
The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.
Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her gardens were in their soil.
She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.
“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.
“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.
“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.
“D-daddy?”
Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.
“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”
Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.
She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.
~
“What is daddy thinking?” she asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.
Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”
“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.
“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.
“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.
She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”
Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.
“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.
“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”
“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.
“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.
She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.
“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.
“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.
“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.
“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.
“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”
“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.
“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”
“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.
Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?
“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”
“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything more.” Bucky promised.
She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”
“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.
“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.
“Do you like the moon, doll?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.
“You know how our sky only has one moon?”
She nodded.
“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.
“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.
“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.
And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.
He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.
~
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navybrat817 · 12 hours
Text
Sergeant Snuggles
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.
But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.
The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.
“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.
You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.
How was that fair?
“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”
“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”
S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.
“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help
“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.
The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.
Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.
It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?
You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?
“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.
“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”
Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.
“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”
You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.
He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”
You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”
“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”
You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.
He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”
Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.
What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?
“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.
“I know, baby.”
“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.
“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”
“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”
“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.
A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”
It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.
Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.
“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.
Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.
The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.
You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.
In work, in love, and in life.
“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”
“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”
You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”
He hummed as he waited for you to speak.
“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”
He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”
“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.
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I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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ellemj · 13 hours
Text
Off-Limits: Ch. 2
Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU
Read Ch. 1 here.
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Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.
Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.
            James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
            You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.
            If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.
            You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.
            Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.
            3:58 pm.
            Two more minutes, he tells himself.
            “This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.
            “That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.
            3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.
            The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.
            As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.
            You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.
            “You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”
            The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.
            “Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.
            Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.
            The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.
            “Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.
            Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.
            “Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”
            That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.
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Note
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Imagine Alpine waking up you and Bucky cause she’s hungry or she just wants attention from her mommy and daddy🥰🩵🩷
Just Like Her Dad
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PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader
WARNINGS: Extreme fluffiness (pun intended)
WORD COUNT: 364
*not proof-read*
ENJOY!
The afternoon sun shines brightly through the open blinds, indicating the day is nearly half done. Bucky and you sleep in after staying up all night to watch the entire Hobbit series.
You feel Bucky wrapping an arm around your back pulling you close, and you nudge your nose against his chest inhaling his woodsy scent. You just lay in each other's arms, wanting to soak in the presence of the other.
Suddenly, a mass jumps on the bed. Then jumps on your side, and you let out an 'oof'.
Turning around, you see Bucky's white cate, Alpine. She chews on your covers and you start to chuckle.
"Aw, hello there baby," you pick her up and cuddle her close your chest. She purrs and rubs her head against your collarbone.
Bucky clears his throat, and opens his eyes to see the view in front of him. "Mornin' Alps," he rubs her chin, and Alpine moves away from Bucky and closer to you.
You both are in shock.
"Someone has a favourite," he grumbles and rubs his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. You laugh and coo and the little furball. "No she doesn't," you argue playfully, adjusting the little pink bow you tied on a small clump of her fur at the top of her head last night. Bucky looks at you with a look that just says 'are you kidding me?'.
"She doesn't!" You laugh harder and your grin windes, "Buck, I'm serious she doesn't like me more." Bucky turns and lies flat on the bed as he nods sarcastically, "sure."
Alpine purrs loudly and snuggles closer to your body, Bucky laughs and raises a brow at you, "see."
You shake your head and hug the cat closer, "Alpine, do you like me or you're Daddy more?" Alpine meows and licks at your jaw, pronoucing her choice.
You gasp while Bucky laughs, "I told you, she LOVES you more."
You shake your head as you laugh with Bucky, "well it just proves one thing." Bucky looks at you curiously, reaching over and starts to play with your hair lazily, "yeah?"
You hum and nod, "she's just like her dad." You wink at him.
💌💌💌
So fucking mad at Marvel, for not including Alpine in TFATWS.
Like besties, we were ROBBED.😩😩😩
LOVE THIS ASK, ALWAYS ON DECK FOR WRITING ALPINE.
Till' then,
Stay Coquette-y,
Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀
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Note
Hello! It's my first time requesting, I don't know if you will write it or not, but I thought I'll put the idea in, basically when I had this sudden burst of idea for a story where in this story Bucky is sort of a the type of guy who likes to bring girls and ykyk, and unfortunately the reader has a crush on Bucky and they r neighbour so reader would tend to listen to the noises and it would break the reader's heart. One day, she decided to go for a walk when Bucky was *cough* w some random girl, and unfortunately, the reader was attacked from behind, and Steve or Sam found her and brought her to the Medbay, and when Bucky found out his heart broke and he confessed, bc he also has a crush on the reader but don't know how to do handle it so he just go with other girls to push his feelings aside, obv doesn't work. Ending fluff!! Love your work always🫶
You’re The One That I Want » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Female Reader
Summary: Bucky doesn’t want the other girls he has brought home, all he wants is Y/N.
Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of blood, crying, kissing, cuddling, use of pet names
A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
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You covered your ears with your hands and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of the moans coming from Bucky’s apartment next door. You couldn’t help but feel jealous and heartbroken. You’ve had a crush on Bucky since the day you moved in next door to him, but it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t feel the same way about you. He brings a different girl home almost every night. You put on a jacket and grabbed your phone and keys. You decided to take a walk to get your mind off of Bucky having a girl over. The night air felt refreshing. You hadn’t realized how long you were walking when you felt someone grab you from behind and pulled you into a nearby alley. The person covered your mouth to muffle your screams. The next thing you knew, you felt something sharp pierce your left side. Soon your body felt limp and you fell to the ground, everything went dark after that. Steve was walking down the street when something caught his eye in the alley. He cautiously entered the alley and seen a person lying on the ground unconscious. Something about this person seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He crouched down and carefully rolled the person over. His eyes widened when he seen your face.
“Y/N, it’s Steve. Can you hear me?” Steve says.
That’s when he felt something wet. He looked down and seen a pool of blood underneath you. He checked for a pulse. Your pulse was weak, but it was there. Steve picked you up bridal style and took you to the med bay at the Avengers Compound. While the doctors were checking you out, he tried to call and text Bucky, but he didn’t answer.
“Come on, Buck. Answer your damn phone.” Steve says to himself.
Steve was sent to voicemail for what it seems like the hundredth time. He sighed and put his phone in pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Steve knows you’re Bucky’s next door neighbor. He also knows that Bucky would like to know if something bad happened to you.
The next morning, Bucky woke up next to a girl who’s name he didn’t remember. He grabbed his phone and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he seen a lot of miss calls and texts from Steve. He got out of bed to get dressed at the same time the girl woke up. He politely told her that he had to go to work and she left. He then made his way to the Avengers Compound.
“Why did you call and text me so many times last night? Where’s the emergency?” Bucky asks, walking towards Steve.
“It’s Y/N.” Steve says.
“My neighbor Y/N? What’s wrong with her?” He asks.
“I found her with a stab wound and passed out from blood loss in an alley last night.” Steve tells him.
Bucky felt his heart drop and his eyes widened. A bunch of bad scenarios were going through his mind.
“Where is she? Is she awake?” Bucky asks with worry in his voice.
“She’s in the med bay and still hasn’t woke up yet.” Steve says.
Bucky immediately ran to the med bay. His eyes teared up when he seen you in the bed with an IV in your arm and a breathing tube in your nose that’s giving you oxygen. He approached the bed and sat down next to you. Him seeing you in the bed like that almost killed him. He carefully picked up your hand, giving it a kiss and held it. Bucky couldn’t help but feel guilt. If he answered his phone last night, he would’ve been here sooner.
“I’m s-so sorry this happened to you, doll.” His voice cracking. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.” He says with tears rolling down his cheeks.
Bucky sniffles and let out a shaky breath. He thought hooking up with girls who aren’t you would push his feelings away about you, but it didn’t work. You’re on his mind 24/7.
“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but umm…” Bucky paused for a few seconds. “I just want to tell you that I’m in love with you. I thought that seeing girls who aren’t you would push the feelings I have for you away. You’re always on my mind. You’re the one that I want.” He confesses. “If you don’t feel the same way as me, I totally understand.” He says.
He waited a moment, hoping you would wake up after he said that, but you didn’t. Bucky sighed and laid his head on the bed.
“What you said was really sweet.” Natasha says, breaking the silence.
Bucky lifted his head to see Natasha in the doorway. Wanda was standing next to her. They walked in the room and stood next on the opposite side of the bed.
“Thanks, but I doubt that she feels the same way about me.” He says.
“She’ll get through this, Bucky.” Wanda says.
“I hope so.” He says, looking at you.
Something came to Bucky’s mind. He remembered you told him you like red roses. Maybe that’ll help you change your mind about him if you feel differently towards him.
“Can you two do something for me?” Bucky asks, looking at them.
“Of course. Anything.” Natasha says.
“I want to get her roses, but I don’t want to leave her. Can you two get them for me? She likes the red ones.” He says, giving them some money.
“That’s so sweet of you. Of course we’ll do that for you.” Wanda says, taking the money from him.
After they left, Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He lifted one of his hands and moved your hair from your face, admiring your beautiful features. He gently caressed your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin. Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from tearing up. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than for you to wake you up.
“Don’t leave me. Please wake up, doll.” Bucky says, letting his tears free fall.
Bucky laid his head against the bed. You could hear his voice. You also felt his hand holding yours. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting them to adjust to the light. It took you a moment to gather your surroundings. You looked to your right to see Bucky sitting next to the bed.
“B-Bucky?” You say weakly.
Bucky’s head shot up when he heard your voice. A smile grew on his face. Relief washed over him, knowing that you’re alive.
“Oh thank god!” Bucky says, hugging you tightly.
You whimpered in pain when his arm accidentally bumped your wound.
“Shit, sorry.” He apologizes, letting go of you.
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why your left side is in pain. You lifted your shirt just enough to see bandages on your left side.
“Wh-What happened and where am I?” You asked, looking at him.
“Steve said you were attacked from behind. You’re in the med bay in the Avengers Compound.” Bucky explains.
“Did you find me?” You asked.
“No. Steve found you.” You could hear the sadness in Bucky’s voice. “What’s the last thing you remember?” He asks.
“Uhh…” That’s when it came to you. “You and the girl you brought home last night were- umm enjoying yourselves…” You tried not to sound awkward. “And I didn’t want to hear it so I went on a walk and someone grabbed me from behind. I’m assuming that’s how I got this.” You explained, lifting your shirt to show him the bandages.
Bucky felt even more guilty. He felt like this is his fault. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky apologizes. “I should’ve been there for you.” He says.
You lifted your hand weakly and caressed his cheek, your thumb rubbing across his stubble.
“This isn’t your fault, Bucky.” You say softly.
You looked in his teary blue eyes. Bucky leaned in, kissing you passionately. Steve, Natasha, and Wanda walked in at the same time you two were kissing. Bucky slowly pulled away from you, glancing over to the doorway to see the three of them standing there.
“You have company, doll.” Bucky says.
You looked at the door, smiling when you seen Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda had a vase of red roses in her hands.
“Bucky told me and Nat to get these for you.” Wanda says, placing the roses on the table next to the bed.
“We’ll leave you two alone. We’re happy that you’re awake.” Natasha says, walking out of the room with Wanda following her.
“Steve…” You stopped him in his tracks. “Thank you for saving me.” You say.
“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I found you and got you help.” Steve says with a smile before leaving the room.
You turned your head to admired the roses for a moment before turning to face Bucky.
“I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier or not, but I mean every word. If you don’t feel the same way about me, I completely understand. We can go back to being neighbors and-” You silenced Bucky with a kiss.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day I moved in next door to you.” You confessed.
Bucky smiles widely and kissed you sweetly and passionately.
“When you’re fully recovered, do you want to go on a date with me?” Bucky asks.
“I’d love that.” You say in almost a whisper.
You scooted over in the bed, whimpering in pain when you moved the wrong way.
“Doll, what are you doing?” Bucky asks.
“Lay down next to me.” You say, patting the bed next to you.
Bucky happily laid down next to you, wrapped his arms around you protectively and being careful not to touch your wound.
“You’re staying with me till you’re fully recovered and then I’m going to help you move your stuff to my apartment.” Bucky says.
“We’re not even dating yet and you want me to move in with you.” You say, looking up at him.
“You’re my girl now and that means I want you to live with me.” He says.
You smiled and kissed his stubbly cheek. You laid your head on his chest, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Bucky kissed the top of your head, smiling to himself when the two of you finally got each other to yourselves.
🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
-Bucky’s Doll
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mickisnotclever · 11 hours
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First name-ing him as if I know him personally (he's fictional)
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thesecretwriter · 3 days
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bucky making you ride his hand while he keeps you quiet by kissing you (minors/ageless blogs dni).
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he had you pinned against the wall with his body keeping you in place, he enjoyed the way you squirmed against him as he kissed you.
it was a simple enough gesture, kissing, but to you, it meant everything and more. especially when it was his.
“you gonna let me touch your pussy, baby?” he asked pulling away from the kiss and meeting your eyes.
the intensity in his made you nod yes before registering what you were agreeing with, but its not like you would’ve said no.
his hand made its way to between your legs, where you needed him the most. he started off gently with teasing your clit. his fingers getting soaked from your arousal, letting him know just how much you wanted him – which is why he slid his fingers into you.
endless moans escaped you at the feeling of his touch.
“you gonna be a good girl and ride my hand? go ahead, make yourself feel good,”
and like the good girl that you are, you did as you were told.
you tried to keep your moans between yourself and bucky, but it was difficult when he would trail kisses along your neck and tease your clit ever so often.
“we gonna have to do something to make you quiet, baby. i wouldn’t want anyone but me to hear those pretty moans,”
you pouted at his words, to which he began kissing you again. your hips moved on their own accord against his hand. it felt so good having his in you.
you could feel his ever-hardening cock against you, which only seemed to make you more eager to reach your high. he watched you carefully and could tell you were getting close, which is why he let his free hand make its way to your neck and force your lips against his once again.
the slight tightening of his fingers against your neck and the motion of his fingers inside you made you cum for him. a smile made its way to his face as he watched you come down from your orgasm.
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a/n: thank you to my actual mans who put this idea into my head and made me think about it all day!!
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redwing4life · 2 days
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Forgotten Alarms
CHAPTER 1 | ASHES TO EMBERS
PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS: Mentions of night terrors, trapped in small spaces, brief mention of reader being worried about bucky holding her weight, nothing else other than bucky being cute af
SUMMARY: When you get stuck in an elevator with your neighbour (who also happens to be your crush), you discover your interest in the firefighter isn’t as one-sided as you thought.
WORD COUNT: 2736
NEXT CHAPTER
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“You’re late, doll.”
The teasing voice of your neighbour catches you off guard when you open your front door; your hand slaps over your heart as you jump from shock.
“Says you” you smirk as you come down from the surprise. You step out of your door fully, turning and pulling it shut behind you.
Bucky chuckles, locking his own door while you do the same. He can’t help but sneak another glance your way - a light blush creeping up your neck under his gaze.
You think you’d be used to him by now, have your little crush under control seeing as you find yourselves leaving for work at the same time regularly. And yet here you are, heart beating faster than you’d like while you fumble with your keys.
Despite being late for work, Bucky waits for you to finish locking up before falling into step beside you as you walk down the hallway to the elevator.
“So let me guess, you slept through your alarm again?” The firefighter raises a brow, amused by your flushed appearance - unsure if that’s his effect on you or the fact your shift started five minutes ago.
“Worse,” you wince, “didn’t even set the damn thing.”
If you didn’t love it so much so much, you’d be inclined to be offended at the snort of a laugh he lets out. “Oh, doll.” Bucky shakes his head with a grin still left on his lips.
“What ‘bout you, Barnes? Spend too much time doing your hair?”
One unamused glare your way and now you’re the one giggling. Walking up to the elevator, you press the button to go down before stepping back to face Bucky.
“I’ll have you know, I woke up looking this good” He winks at you, hoping you’ll accept his non-answer for an answer. But you both know why he woke up late.
He barely even fell asleep, now that his nightmares are back.
His screams travel through the thin walls at night, falling on concerned ears. You pretend as though you don’t hear his night terrors but he sees the slight tug at your brows the next morning, the way you’re desperate to ask if he’s okay. But you never do; you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You offered your help once, and you’re not sure you have the right to ask again.
“Who said you look good?” You tease, hoping to lighten the mood.
The elevator dings and the doors open. “Well the old lady whose cat we saved yesterday said I was the most handsome man in town” He smirks as you both step inside.
“Oh that’s high praise, Barnes” You reply, watching as he presses the ground floor button.
A comfortable silence falls upon the elevator as it roars back to life. Pulling out your phone, you fire a quick text to your boss to apologise for being late before shoving it back into your back pocket.
Bucky turns to you, “What time do you fin-“
A loud clunk sounds from above the lift and it stops moving, dropping a couple inches before coming to a halt again.
“Oh, shit” You all but whisper, almost afraid of speaking too loudly in case it sends you tumbling down.
“Well,” Bucky’s eyes are on the ceiling, “that didn’t sound great”
If you weren’t so nervous, you might slap him for stating the fucking obvious. Your eyes fall to your hand that’s grabbed his, not even realising you’d reached for him when the lift stopped.
Your cheeks burn crimson before you release the death grip you had on his wrist, ignoring the sparks resting beneath your fingertips.
“You okay, doll?” His voice softens when he sees the fear in your eyes.
“Umm..” You stutter, voice as shaky as your hands are.
“Hey, hey,” Bucky’s hands are on your shoulders now, “you’re shaking, Y/n. What’s wrong? What do you need me to do?”
Clenching your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “Tell me we’re not about to fall to our deaths, please”
Your neighbour lets out a breathy ‘Oh, doll’ and strokes his thumbs over your shoulders. When you open your eyes, his blue ones bear into yours reassuringly, “We’re not gonna fall to our deaths.”
“This hunk of junk hasn’t been serviced in years but i’m pretty sure it’s just jammed or the powers cut out. Either way, we’re gonna be just fine” He continues.
You let out a wavering breath and nod slowly. “Okay. So what now?” You ask.
Bucky drops one of his hands to get his phone (much to your dismay), “I’m gonna call for the crew to come get us”
“Wait,” You frown, “why not press the help button?”
Bringing his phone to his ear, Bucky replies as it starts ringing. “Well, after Mr Garvey lugs his ass outta bed, he’d be calling them anyways. Might as well avoid being stuck here longer than we have to”
Ahh, Mr Garvey; the landlord to the whole building who also happens to be the laziest fucker around.
You mumble and ‘okay’ and roll your bottom lip between your teeth - completely unaware of the admiring eyes on you.
Eventually, a voice sounds from the other side of the phone and Bucky explains the situation, rambling off the information they need to find you. With a quick thank you, the call is over and you’re left with nothing but time to waste.
Your eyes follow the man before you as he approaches the far wall, sliding down it till he’s sat with one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee where he rests his elbow.
“It’s alright, doll. You can sit down, it won’t break anything” He cocks his head to side, eyeing up your hesitant features.
You choose to trust him; after all, he is the one best qualified to know what will and won’t make this obnoxiously small lift crash to the ground.
Letting yourself drop to the floor, you sit with your knees up due to the lack of space to stretch your legs. Bucky is right in front of you, the tight squeeze seemingly not bothering him.
“Great day to be late, huh” You scoff lightly.
“Yeah well, at least we’re together”
A laugh escapes you, drawing a confused expression from your neighbour. “Let’s not pretend as though you need me here. If it weren’t for me you’d probably be climbing outta this thing”
“You overestimate my abilities, sweets. I’m no spider-man” He replies. Those damn pet names make you blush every time.
“You know,” you tilt your head a little to the left, “I can’t think of anyone who still uses ‘doll’ or ‘sweets’ aside from you”
You swear there’s a glint in Bucky’s eye when he replies, “Do you blush when someone calls you ‘baby’ as much as you do when I call you ‘doll’?”
Thinking for a moment, you shyly shake your head in response; he raises his brows at you, as though your answer proves his point. You wonder if he’s old fashioned in other ways. If he’s one to buy his girl flowers or open a car door for them. Maybe he’s just as polite in bed, though you find yourself disappointed at the thought. God, you need to stop thinking of him like that, no matter how hot he would look between your-
“You seeing that fella from last week again?”
Bucky’s question brings you out of your day dreams and you’re surprised by it, unaware he had any interest in your love life.
“Peter?” He nods. “No, I don’t think so. We weren’t really one the same page, if that makes sense”
“How so?”
You shrug slightly, “He’s fresh out of college and looking for a fuck buddy, not a genuine relationship.” You look away from Bucky as you continue. “And even if I wanted that, he’s hardly mature enough to know what he’s doing”
With your gaze settled on your hands, you miss the way Bucky starts biting his lip as he wonders what type of man would fulfil your needs. He shakes his head clear of those thoughts, not wanting to make a fool of himself.
“What about you? Haven’t heard any visitors at yours for a little while” You comment, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve been spying on him.
He lets out a dry laugh, “Lets just say I prefer my nights off with a beer and listening to you play the piano.”
“Oh god, you hear that?” You cover your face with your hands when he nods. “I hope I don’t disturb you. I didn’t think it-“
“It’s fine, doll,” he nudges your thigh with his boot, “I like it”
Your cheeks burn yet again as you drop your hands. “You do?”
“How could I not? You play beautifully. I’ve thought of slipping a request under your door but I didn’t wanna be the creep next door”
You giggle, “You couldn’t be creepy if you tried, Barnes”
“In that case, you should know my cat loves your music too”
With a gasp, you lean closer to Bucky till you’re sat cross legged barely a foot away from him. “James Barnes, the firefighter, has a cat!?”
You revel in his hearty laugh, eyes dancing across his face. From the crinkles at the corners of his eyes to the deep smile lines framing his mouth, you can’t help but be drawn to his beauty.
He sobers up. “Her name’s Alpine.” He says, “She was left at the firehouse a couple of years ago so I took her home with me. She’s probably the only thing that loves your music more than me”
A grin tugs at your lips as you enjoy the thought of your neighbour cuddled up with a little cat.
“If we make it outta here alive, I wanna meet her”
“We’ll be fine, doll. The crew’ll be here any minute now”
You hum and silence consumes the air once more. The soft dim glow of the overhead lights falls gracefully on your features and Bucky can’t pull his eyes away. He knows you’re not too fond of the situation you’re both in and yet he can’t help but thank whatever beings made this happen; to finally have an excuse to talk to you longer than your usual small talk, to tell you how much he’s in awe your piano playing.
He’s not ready to tell you that he’s rather in awe of you, too. Maybe next time you’re stuck in a lift together.
With the silence so heavy on your ears, your mind drifts to the reason you’re here in the first place. The reason he is here.
The nightmares.
You know he hasn’t slept properly in weeks; the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a glimpse of his exhaustion. And as much as you’re scared of pushing him away, the weight on your chest is growing too heavy to bear.
“I know you’re having nightmares again.”
Bucky stills.
“Those screams, James, I-“
“It’s nothing” He cuts you off with stern words. Your brows pull together, eyes laced with worry.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. I thought they got better.“
His head falls back against the wall behind him, “Well you thought wrong.”
You curse yourself beneath your breath as you run your hands through your hair, searching for the right thing to say.
“I’m worried about you, James.” You breathe, eyes fluttering shut. You’re scared that if you look at him, you’ll cave in and promise to never ask about it again. “I get that i’m just your neighbour but I can’t keep acting like I can’t see there’s something wrong.“
“There is nothing wrong!” Bucky’s tone is sharp, not quite shouting but no longer calm.
Your eyes snap open, training on the clench of his jaw, the sole hint of any emotion on his face.
“I’m dealing with it. So you need to stop acting like you know me because you don’t.”
And there it goes. The worry in your chest morphs into regret. Regret for bringing it up, regret for thinking you could help, regret for hearing his screams in the first place.
“Okay”
Bucky hates how timid your voice is, barely loud enough over the ringing of his own heartbeat. That and the voice in his head telling him he’s a piece of shit. He wishes he could take it all back but he doesn’t know how to, so he decides that silence is better than opening his damn mouth and making things worse.
The pair of you sit there in silence, one that’s far less comfortable than before, and stare at the ceiling, waiting for help to arrive.
When it does, you count your lucky stars that the lift stopped just at the doors to the second floor. Bucky helps the crew pull the doors open enough for you both to climb through. You feel his blue eyes on you as you wait for them to stabilise the lift, avoiding his gaze at all costs.
“Okay, Ma’am,” One of the firefighters calls, the name ‘Rogers’ written on his jacket, “we need you guys to climb up here and we’ll pull you out.”
Your eyes widen at the thought of pulling yourself up there, suddenly very aware of your frankly appalling upper body strength.
Rogers catches the hesitation on your face. “Don’t worry, Buck will help you up so you can get out first”
Turning to look at your neighbour, you lock eyes for the first time in ten minutes. His lips are turned into an awkward half smile, changing his entire demeanour from one of a brooding firefighter to a sheepish kid.
You don’t know how long the pair of you stand there staring at each other, but it’s long enough for Roger’s to clear his throat in attempt to regain your attention.
Bucky steps closer to you while the crew get ready above you. “You okay with this, doll?”
You nod, “As long as this thing doesn’t fall while i’m half way through and snap my body in half, i’m good”
That heartwarming laugh fills your ears and the firefighter shakes his head in amusement. At least he doesn’t hate you enough to leave you to get out on your own.
“Well lucky for you, that ain’t gonna happen”
You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Okay, how is this gonna work?”
Bucky moves to stand below the gap, facing you. He lowers himself down to one knee before reaching for your hand.
His skin is warm but rough, gentle but strong as he pulls you closer to him. The unexpected tug on your hand sends you tumbling toward him, your right hand bracing yourself on his shoulder to regain your balance while his free hand lands on your hip.
You mumble an apology, flustered at the intense heat beneath his hands and the way Bucky is looking up at you.
“You good?” He asks, voice dripping with awe, though you’re oblivious to the admiration, still plagued by the way he shut you down earlier.
When you nod, Bucky removes his hand from your hip and taps his knee. “You’re gonna step on my knee, then on my shoulder and you then should be close enough for Steve to grab you and pull you out”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” You admit, nervous at the thought of letting Bucky take your body weight on his shoulders.
He looks up at you through his lashes “Do you trust me, sweets?”
“Yes” You reply, not even having to think about it. There may be some walls between you, but you know he’s on the other side, waiting.
“Good, then get up here”
Bucky shouts up to the crew that he’s giving you a boost now and after hearing them shout back that they’re ready, you place your foot on Bucky’s knee and push yourself up.
“Don’t drop me” You warn, reaching up to the gap in preparation.
“Wouldn’t dream of it”
And with that, you climb onto your neighbours shoulders and stretch up for Steve to grab your hands.
Along with Bucky pushing your feet up, Steve pulls you out and you slide through the gap until you’re free of that god forsaken elevator.
“Well thank fuck for that” You groan, spread across the floor on your back, making the crew laugh.
You barely have time to recover before Bucky is stood above you, having lugged himself out with ease.
“Guess you won’t be forgetting to set your alarm again, ay?”
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a/n: first chapterrrrrr! hope you enjoyed, if you have any questions dm me or drop an ask <3
new chapter will be out soon, thanks to everyone to voted on the poll i put out, i hope it’s as good as you wished it would be :)
comment if you’d like to be added to my ashes to embers taglist 🧡
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yourbuckies · 2 days
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@catws-anniversary | Steve Rogers - Guilt
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saber-monet · 2 days
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STEVE RODGERS x BUCKY BARNES x reader
It’s just straight up smut. penetration, breeding, tiny bit of cnc.
Context : Steve and Bucky have been your closest guy friends since high school . And one night and you all go drinking out together …
All three of us were tipsy and laughing together, and they invited me to their place nearby to keep our buzz going. We put on music while we flirted, danced, and got handsy. After a couple hours, Steve started kissing me and stroking my clit through my panties as we lounged on the couch. My pussy spread for his fingers as soon as he slid the panties aside. Bucky watched, stroking himself. Dizzy with desire and drink, it was only moments before Bucky was holding my thighs open and Steve was thrusting gently inside me. Nervous and unbelievably wet, I moaned as he fucked me with a bare cock. “Fuck, you feel so good… but we shouldn’t be doing this…”’’
“Don’t worry.” Bucky pinned my shoulders down, and Steve leaned forward and pushed gently, but firmly, into my bare cunt. “It’s okay, I’m gonna cum soon…”
“You’re so deep… please, not inside,” I begged. My mind raced at the thought, but I didn’t move to stop him.
“Yes, I’m gonna cum inside you. I always wanted to. Fuck, yeah… cumming in your pussy feels so fucking good…” His cock throbbed inside and he continued to gently fuck his load in. I groaned in pleasure, spread wide in front of him, Bucky still holding me down, cum spilling out as Steve caught his breath. When he pulled away, Bucky rolled me face down on the sofa, kneeling behind my spread legs. His cock slid in my pussy easily and I cried out again, “Oh god, wait… I can’t do this…” Steve began jerking off to the sight of his cum dripping down my legs as Bucky fucked his friend’s load in and out of me.
“We’re not done.” Bucky held onto my shoulders as he fucked hard into me. The euphoria of being taken made my heart pound. “We’re gonna fill up your pussy over and over,” he groaned, as his cock pulsed and began to fill me again.
“No… you can’t,” I moaned weakly, pussy holding on tight as he emptied into me. “Don’t cum in me, I’m fertile right now…” I heard them both laugh.
“Fuck, yeah, you’re gonna get pregnant with us tonight.” One more deep push, and his load oozed out around his cock buried in me. I shuddered, tingling inside, scared I would cum and yet desperate for it. Bucky pulled away and again Steve turned me around and sat me down in his lap. His cock slid in all at once, and we groaned in unison. Forehead to forehead, my clit rubbed against his thrusts and I knew I didn’t have long. He saw it too.
“Are you gonna cum for us?” All I could do was nod, holding onto him for stability as he forced me toward orgasm. “Good girl. That’s so fucking good. Open up that womb for us…” I was shaking and moaning as I came, a mixture of cum dripping out of me. “Are you ready for another load? Nice and deep inside your sweet pussy…” With my cunt tightening down, he slid to the deepest part of me and poured himself inside me again. My sloppy pussy milked him while he held my hips tight against his, kissing me as he tried to impregnate me. They kept passing me back and forth all night, making me cum and then filling my pussy with their loads, watching it spill out of me and then fucking it back inside me.
“Such a pretty little pussy full of our cum.”
“You’re gonna have our baby, aren’t you?”
“That’s the third time you’ve made me cum, baby.”
“Can you feel us inside your womb?”
“Good girl, cumming while we breed you.”
“Of course I’m gonna fill you up, that’s why you’re here.”
“I almost fucked you in high school, now I’m knocking you up.”
“You’re gonna stay with us and give us your pussy everyday.”
“You’d make such a good wife for us.”
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inkedbybarnes · 11 hours
Text
his baby
bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: bucky won't call you by your name.
word count: 400+
warnings: 18+ minors dni. established relationship. tooth rotting fluff, or worse... allusions to smut. a whole lot of usage of petnames mainly being baby, bucky being obsessed with the reader (that's a warning, i say), lowercase writing.
i have no idea what this is (okay, maybe i do) but it happened. really cheesy, but i guess i'm into that sometimes. hope you like this one!
dividers by @cafekitsune!
comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡
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“where's my baby?”
those three words kept echoing all throughout the compound this morning. most of the team were up and awake to welcome bucky, steve, and sam who just arrived home from their week long mission.
but his baby was missing.
“oh, god. here he goes again.” sam shook his head, fatigue written all over his face, but a bit of amusement from bucky's behaviour still shining through. he couldn't deny how admirable bucky's adoration for you was.
“calm down, punk." steve pat his shoulder reassuringly. “i'm sure she's here somewhere.”
“yeah, but where?” bucky asks again. “i haven't seen her for a week. i miss her.”
“you think he remembers her name?" clint jokingly asked.
“she has multiple names, remember?” tony answered. “baby, sweetheart, love, sweets, and.. what's the other one? i swear, there's another, or maybe two?”
before one of them could find the answer, bucky popped right in front of them to ask another question.
“is my baby okay?” his brows were all scrunched up, genuinely worried about you. “did you tell her i was coming home? i told her before we took off. why isn't she here? she's always—”
“okay, lover boy. your baby is alright, she's still sleeping in your room, i think.” tony answered him, finally calming him down. “and can you call her by her name when it's just us around? we're starting to think that you forgot what her actual name is."
“what? she's my only baby, it's not that hard to figure it out." bucky shrugged, causing at least three of the avengers to run their hands through their face at his answer. “and why is she still asleep? is she sick?"
natasha raised her hand, a guilty smile on her face. “i'm the reason for that. i made her stay up late with me last night to watch five seasons of a show we discovered accidentally,” she explained, a proud smile now replacing her guilty one. “she might be a little cranky from the lack of sleep, so you better have something for her when she wakes up.”
“oh, i do.” bucky grinned like he already knew what to give her and was prepared for it. “all of you might want to leave the tower for the entire day if you don't want to hear me giving it to her.”
what used to be the shouts of bucky looking for you were now replaced with the grunts and complaints of the team because of bucky's answer.
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if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌
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missmorwen · 2 days
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\o/
Thunderbolts 2023 #4
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gutsby · 6 hours
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Benign
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
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Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
“Gentle?” he mumbled.
“Rough,” you countered.
“Baby—”
“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”
You turned onto your side.
“You still don’t remember what happened?”
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
“This Winter Soldier—”
“He isn’t me.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something new—and really, really stupid:
“Zhelaniye.”
“What?”
Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.
“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Wait—”
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
“Baby, baby, stop—”
“—pech, devyat—”
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.
“Don’t—”
“—adin—”
No time at all.
“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
“—dobroserdechniy—”
‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
“Soldat.”
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
“...Bucky?”
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
“Who the hell is Bucky?”
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.
“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
“James—”
“Zhena.”
The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
“Zhena,” he repeated.
You blinked.
“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—
“Stop!” you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
“Honey?”
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
“Bucky?”
The man looked up at you and blinked.
“Yeah, honey?”
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing—”
“My baby okay?”
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
“No, let me—”
“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
“Bucky.”
The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
“Bucky.”
He blinked.
And slowed.
“Bucky,” he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
“Years,” he answered.
“Years?”
Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”
“Since what?”
The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
“Close now?” he muttered.
Ignoring the question you’d asked.
“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
“I can’t lose you again.”
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’
You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
“James?” you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didn’t respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didn’t.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
“Baby, it’s just—”
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
“Stay.”
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.
And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.
If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Bucky’s stuck and he’s
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
“Bucky!”
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
“STEVE!”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:
“This is Mrs. Barnes?”
“Yes,” you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”
“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”
“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”
Another pause.
“Prenatals.”
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.
You hung up.
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ivuhe · 1 day
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Me when a character looks like they're one push towards the light
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