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#marvel x reader
runawrites-blog · 2 days
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Late (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
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Summary: When Bucky overhears you telling Natasha about your period being late he immediately knows what this could mean. To ease your mind until you know for sure he tries to subtly show you that he’d be there to care for a potential child. You find yourself surprisingly happy about this possibility. (Female Reader) Word Count: 4,986 Warnings: Mild Pregnancy Scares, Talk of Menstruation, Baby Fever, No Y/N, Petnames (Doll, Sweetheart) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54538210 A/N: Also, quick question, would anyone be interested in a smut fiction with Bucky, containing choking?
---
"I’m really late.”
“How late?”
“My period should have started about seven days ago. I’ve never been this late, normally I’m almost always on time.”
“That really is pretty late.” Natasha mused and turned to face you as you stood next to her on Clint’s porch, overlooking the rainy fields. You were all visiting the Bartons after Clint had gotten injured on a mission, leaving him with a broken femur and you all coming over to try to make the house easier for him to get around with his injury. “Have you talked to Bucky, yet?”
You quieted down for a second, opting to turn back toward the rain rather than look at Natasha’s face, knowing that she would urge you to talk to your partner about this. And you knew that even with such an intimate topic you could always talk to Bucky. Menstruation wasn’t a taboo subject in your relationship, so when you were on your period Bucky was aware of it and when you needed him to comfort you or run to the store to get you supplies he was quick to do so.
The two of you had also talked about the possibility of having children before and you had both agreed that one day you would love to have some of your own but that this day was still in the future. So, you knew he wanted children one day and after being with him for years you also knew that he wouldn’t react negatively to all of this. But you didn’t want to worry him because you thought that your period was late for a whole different reason.
“I was so stressed and busy lately. I even calculated when I should have ovulated and at the time we were flying around the world, trying to take down that crime syndicate.” You explained, not meeting her eyes just yet. “I’m sure it’s just the stress that delayed my ovulation and with that also my period.”
“But have you talked to Bucky about it, yet?”
“Not yet. As I said I’m pretty sure it’s just the stress I’ve been under, so it’s probably not a serious issue and I don’t want to worry him with it. I know that everyone immediately assumes that a late period means someone is pregnant, so I don’t want him jumping to conclusions when it might just be from the stress and will probably resolve itself.” You explained before turning to her. “Can we talk about something else? If I don’t get my period within the next week, I’ll talk to him, alright? But for now, let’s please change the subject.”
“Alright.” Natasha nodded and thought for a second. “How was your date night?”
Before you could answer you heard the screen door open and turned to find Bucky stepping onto the porch. Your eyes locked with his and you smiled brightly, making his face light up as you walked up to embrace him. He pulled you to his side and pressed a kiss to your head.
“Where have you been all day?”
“All around the house really, talking to Steve and Sam, helping Laura and everyone else move things around to make it easier for Clint to get around with his cast on.” Bucky said nonchalantly, leaning over to press his lips to your cheek. “I heard you talking about our date night.”
You looked up at him, worry rising in you for the flash of a second, concerned that he’d heard the previous topic of conversation. But you quickly overplayed your concerns with a bright smile as you nodded and went on to tell Natasha about the museum you’d been to where they were currently showing an exhibition about Captain America. When you started talking about how many children had been there Bucky piped up.
“Sweetheart, do you remember that young girl who recognised me as the man from one of the photos?”
You nodded quickly and turned to Natasha with a bright smile. “He was in the historical photos there and a little girl, no older than maybe five or six years old, recognised him. She was too shy to talk to him at first but we saw her pulling at her father’s sleeve and pointing Bucky out to him.”
“How cute!” Natasha smiled and looked back at Bucky. “Did you go talk to her?”
“He did.” You answered for your partner, a warm smile on your face. “He went up to her and asked her if she could point him to the display of the shields. It was such a good idea because it meant she could be the one to help Bucky.”
“That was exactly why I did it and it did the trick. It put her in charge of the situation and she pointed me to the shields. She tagged along with us as we went there, chatting away with me about how she’d read books about me and Steve, how she wanted to be just like us when she grew up and asking me all sorts of questions. “
Natasha smiled at that, putting her hands on her hips. “Sure you don’t want to switch professions and work in childcare, Buck?”
“No, I’m quite fond of the whole superhero business.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded his head toward you. “I’m also more fond of the idea of having my own children.”
Natasha shot you a pointed look but you remained quiet and simply leaned back into his side, changing the subject of the conversation to an elderly lady who had also approached Bucky after recognising him at the exhibition. Bucky’s hand tensed on your arm for the fraction of a second but before you could even look up he was already talking to Natasha again.
---
It took another hour for the rain to lighten but as soon as it did Clint’s children were outside in the garden, Cooper getting on the tyre swing and pulling out his book, Lila going back to practising her archery which the rain had interrupted her at and Nathaniel running to get his soccer ball to play with. That’s when you heard Clint calling out to all of you, asking for someone to help him get outside onto the porch. Natasha was quick to rush inside to help him while you and Bucky kept an eye on the children.
“Come on, Lila!” Nathaniel complained from down on the field as he approached his sister who put her bow down to look at him. “Why won’t you play with me?”
“I want to practice my archery, Nat.”
Nathanial groaned in annoyance before walking over to his brother. “What about you? Can we play soccer?”
“I just want to finish the chapter first.”
The boy crossed his arms and hung his head in disappointment, kicking his ball to the side and slumping down on a nearby log. You were about to go down into the garden, to try and mediate, comfort Nathaniel or offer to play soccer with him when you felt Bucky’s arm slip off your shoulder. When you turned your head to look at him you saw him giving you a small glance before walking down into the garden, waving at Nathaniel.
“I’ll play with you!”
“Really?” Nathaniel looked up, a smile immediately spreading on his face as he watched Bucky come up to him. “Thank you, Mister Barnes!”
Bucky smiled at his excitement, picking up the ball on the way. “Call me Bucky, alright?”
“Alright!” Nathaniel nodded and then moved across the field, waving Bucky after him. “You be the goalie, alright?”
“Sure, but go easy on me. I’m not a professional soccer player.”
“But you’re a superhero!”
You watched a genuine soft smile spread across Bucky’s face. “Do you think we defeat bad guys by challenging them to a game of soccer?”
Nathaniel shrugged and then grinned up at Bucky. “Have you ever tried?”
“Actually, no. I might have to give your idea a try, buddy.”
Crossing your arms over your chest you watched Bucky play soccer with Nathaniel, a soft smile spreading across your face and a warm feeling engulfing your heart. You still thought that stress was the reason for your late period but you knew that even if you were expecting Bucky would make a great father -- but then again, you had always known that. Nathaniel kept scoring goals and though you could tell that Bucky was letting the ball go in on purpose from time to time, sometimes he looked genuinly surprised at the boy’s aim. Sighing softly, you leaned against one of the wooden support beams of the porch while Natasha helped Clint sit down on a nearby chair and you watched Bucky cheer Nathaniel on.
“Sure you don’t want to talk to him?”
You winced in surprise when Natasha’s voice sounded off just beside your ear and you turned your head to find her standing right next to you. Sighing softly, you shook your head and leaned back against the beam, turning to continue watching Bucky and Nathaniel play.
“I’ll wait a couple more days but I will eventually talk to him about it.” You promised, keeping your voice down so Clint wouldn’t hear your conversation. “But I know that I have nothing to worry about. Even if I were pregnant, I think Bucky would make a great father.”
“Definitely.” Natasha said, her smile evident in her voice as she whispered back to you. “If you want to wait a few more days, do so. But you have nothing to worry about. He’s a good guy and he will stand by you no matter what happens.”
“I never doubted that.”
A clap of thunder made everyone look up at the sky and Clint called out to the children to come back inside. They didn’t have to be told twice. Lila started packing up her things while Cooper got off the swing to head for the porch. Nathaniel clutched the ball to his chest as he looked up at the sky in fear but Bucky was quick to react, crouching down next to him and holding out his metal arm to him.
“Hold on and I’ll carry you inside. We’ll be super fast, I promise.”
Nathaniel turned to look at Bucky and at another encouraging nod from the man he grabbed onto the metal arm’s biceps, holding on tightly as your partner stood up, lifting the boy off the ground and leaving him dangling from the arm. While they set out for the porch, you could hear Nathaniel laughing as he swung back and forth on Bucky’s arm, his hands clasped tightly around his biceps. What stood out to you was the fact that Bucky’s eyes kept flicking over to yours, almost as if to see whether or not you were looking at him. But you couldn’t really think about that observation because you found yourself distracted by a strange sense of longing settling in your chest.
---
It was two days later that you two found yourself in a furniture store, looking for a new dresser and despite your period still being late, you were no longer focused on the worry you felt about that and more thinking about the longing you had felt when watching Bucky play with Nathaniel two days prior. It made you wonder if having a child with Bucky was something that you might want sooner rather than later.
“I cannot believe we broke your dresser.”
You shushed Bucky, heat rising to your cheeks as you remembered how exactly the dresser had broken and how much teasing you had already had to endure from your fellow Avengers. “Will you keep it down?”
“You didn’t tell me that last night.” Bucky grinned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders when he saw you roll your eyes, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. “But then again, that is part of the reason why we’re here.”
Once more you rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help but chuckle as you leaned into him. “Just remind me that we’re only here for a dresser when I will inevitably find twenty other things that might come in handy. I need you to be the voice of reason here and tell me I don’t need every little thing I see.”
Bucky chuckled at that and threw you a playfully wary glance. “I don’t know if I can turn down any of your wishes, Doll.”
The two of you kept walking until you came to the department for children’s furniture beyond which you knew lay the department for regular bedrooms. As you walked past the displays of cribs and bunk beds, the walls behind them decorated in images of stars with stuffed animals and mobiles all around, you felt a strange longing return. You cuddled closer against Bucky’s side, making him turn to you but you didn’t see his facial expression because you kept looking around. He was quiet for a few seconds before he leaned over to press a kiss to your head.
“When we have a kid one day, what theme would you choose for their nursery?”
You blinked in surprise at his question, noticing how the longing feeling lightened just the smallest amount at the first word of the sentence and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the first thing that came to your mind. “When?”
“We spoke about having children one day. Is it a surprise that I use ‘when’ instead of ‘if’?” Bucky gave you a comforting smile. “So tell me, what theme would you choose for our future child?”
“The space theme.” You smiled softly, looking back at the displays. “Imagine our baby sleeping under those glow-in-the-dark stars or under a mobile of the planets. It would also fit so well because our first proper date was to an exhibition about space travel.”
Bucky’s smile was clear in his voice when he spoke up. “I like that idea a lot.”
You leaned closer to him again and his hand came up to squeeze your shoulder lovingly as you two started walking again. But your peace was interrupted when you rounded the corner to find a couple fighting over what sounded like the choice of a crib, making you stop in your tracks. Against your better judgment, you spoke up, directing their attention to you and Bucky.
“What’s wrong? Do you need help?”
The blond woman rolled her eyes and nodded to the redhead next to her. “My wife here thinks we should get the crib with the wooden frame but it’s much more expensive than the metal frame one.”
“Yes, I know that but I think a crib is not the piece of furniture to cut costs at.” The redhead crossed her arms and shook her head. “Our baby is going to sleep in that bed every night. If you want to cut costs anywhere why not on something like the dresser? If that’s a bit cheaper it won’t be as bad!”
“Would you like an outsider’s opinion on it?”
Both women turned to look at Bucky who took his arm off you to approach the two and they gave him a shrug, agreeing in almost perfect unison that someone else’s opinion might be helpful for their situation. You watched with an interested expression as Bucky smiled and inspected the cribs for a few minutes, reading their descriptions and taking a closer look at them before he turned to the two women again.
“I wouldn’t get either of these.”
“Why not?”
Bucky glanced at you as he spoke up again, once again seemingly making sure that you were paying attention before he said anything. “The one with the metal frame may be an inexpensive one but the mattress that comes with it is not tight fitting enough and that’s a safety hazard for the baby.”
The blonde woman quickly distanced herself from the metal frame crib to examine the wooden one once more. “Why can’t we choose the wooden framed one? The mattress fits better than the one in the other crib.”
“It does but it has those cloud-shaped cutouts on the headboard. The baby’s head or limbs could get caught in it and that’s a safety hazard, too.”
“I totally forgot about that. We even looked up crib safety before coming here and I forgot.” The redhead mumbled and sighed, turning to her wife. “And I’m sorry for going off at you like that. I’ve been so stressed lately.”
“I get it, I wasn’t any better. It’s all forgotten, don’t worry.” The blonde sighed and took her wife’s hand into hers before turning to Bucky. “Got any recommendations on what crib to buy?”
Bucky smiled and nodded toward a crib a few metres away. “I’d get this one. I know that it’s a bit more expensive than the other two but it is convertible, so it can be turned into a toddler bed. It will last you two much longer, so I’d say it’s worth the price.”
“It would look great with the changing table we picked out.”
“It would.” The redhead agreed to her wife before smiling at Bucky. “Thanks for the help, we really appreciate it.”
The blonde nodded before turning to smile at you. “You got yourself a very knowledgable baby daddy there. He’s a keeper.”
Bucky smirked proudly as he turned back at you, watching you come over to embrace his arm and look back at the two women. You didn’t correct the first statement and you didn’t even question why as you answered. “He really is a keeper.”
---
After buying a new dresser the two of you had decided to get lunch together and take a walk around the park afterwards. Your hand was in his as you walked down the walkways, passing by the other people in the park until you heard something that made you stop dead in your tracks. Someone was crying and it sounded like a child. Bucky seemed to have also heard it because he looked around for the source of it before his eyes stilled on a spot next to a large patch of shrubbery. You followed his gaze and found a young girl, no older than four years old sitting on the ground, legs drawn up to her chest and face buried in her arms as she hugged her knees. Before Bucky could react you were approaching her, calling out to her so you wouldn’t startle her as you came close.
“Are you alright?”
“I want my Daddy.” The girl sobbed brokenly but she looked up at you and only then could you see the bloody scrapes on her knees. “I-- I saw a kitty and went after it and-- and I got lost and I fell and my knees hurt real bad!”
You felt concern and pity wash over you at seeing the girl so distraught and hearing that she was lost, so you knelt down next to her. “How about my friend and I help you find your way back to your family?”
“You would? But-- But I don’t know where to look and-- and my knees hurt.”
“Let me check to see if I got some bandaids in my purse.” You said softly and began rummaging through your purse as Bucky crouched down next to you. When you found your small first aid kit you held it up triumphantly. “Look at that, we can patch you up and find your family, alright?”
She was still crying but she let you put bandaids on her knees after spraying some wound disinfectant spray on them. The sting of the spray made her cry even harder but when Bucky let her hold his hand, she calmed down a little. You ignored how he was once more eyeing you as you helped the girl.
“You did so well. You were really brave.” You smiled at her before sitting back on your haunches and introducing yourself by name. “And what’s your name?”
“Penny.”
“It’s nice to meet you Penny.” Bucky said softly, smiling at her. “I’m Bucky.”
Penny wiped her eyes and when you got up, offering her a hand to help her stand she accepted it. Once on her feet, she kept her hand firmly in yours as you surveyed the area, hoping to find someone who looked like they were searching for her.
“What is the last thing you remember? Were you at a playground or a picnic area? Do you remember anything like that maybe?”
“We were at a fountain.” Penny mused, her index finger on her chin as she thought. “We were taking a break.”
Bucky looked back at you with a smile. “I know where they might be. There’s a big water fountain not far from here. We should start there.”
Penny looked up at you before pulling at your hand. “Can you carry me, pretty please? My knees really hurt.”
“Of course.” You smiled and bent down to pick her up, letting her wrap her arms around you as you set out with Bucky leading the way. “Let’s get you back to your Daddy.”
The three of you walked for about ten minutes, with Penny telling you all about her day and you listening intently, only interrupting her to ask questions to keep her talking. Bucky kept glancing back at you, a soft smile on his face. When you came to the fountain you were immediately greeted by a panicked-looking man that Penny quickly reached out to.
“You found her! Thank you so much!” He exclaimed as he took her into his arms and held her close. “I looked away for five seconds to talk to my wife and when I turned back Penny was gone.”
“I saw a kitty, Daddy.” Penny explained before pointing at her knees. “And I fell and hurt myself. But the nice couple helped me and gave me bandaids.”
“Again, thank you so much.” Her father said with a smile. “I hope you didn’t have to search for us for too long.”
“Not at all. Penny was really smart and told us you were at a fountain.” You explained, taking Bucky’s hand and nodding to him. “And Bucky knew where the fountain was so it was no trouble finding you.”
“But even if it had been, we wouldn’t have minded. There’s no need to thank us.” Bucky explained, squeezing your hand and smiling at the man. “We’ll be on our way then.”
“Have a good rest of your day. And again thank you.”
Penny smiled at the two of you, waving from her father’s arms. “Bye-bye!”
You two waved back at her, said your goodbyes and then left to head back to the car. On the way, your hand migrated from Bucky’s hand to hold onto his biceps. Your head leaned against his shoulder and he turned his head to look at you with a small smile.
“You would be a great mother.”
The longing was back and by now you knew exactly what it meant. And you wondered if he felt the same, given how many references to having children he’d made during the past few days, from speaking about it to Natasha to asking about potential nursery themes with you to flat-out telling you you would be a great mother. The glances he kept sending your way whenever either of you interacted with a child or talked about anything that had to do with child-rearing made you question if he was doing all this on purpose.
“You think so?”
“Definitely.” He said and then looked back ahead, a gentle smile spreading across his features. “I cannot wait to have a family with you one day.”
You decided to keep the fact that there was a slim chance that day might come sooner rather than later to yourself for the time being, opting to wait a few more days. Yet, you suspected that you wouldn’t even have to tell him about your worries because by now you were sure that he’d heard all you had said to Natasha. It seemed that Bucky was trying to show you that he’d be ready to raise a child with you. And you were surprised at how happy you were about that slim chance that you might have been pregnant.
“I can’t wait, either.”
---
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”
Bucky looked up from where he was putting away the dishes, giving you a confused look. You just leaned against the counter next to him, giving him a warm and thankful smile because now you not only knew what he had been doing but you also had an inkling as to why he’d been doing it.
“What do you mean, Doll?”
“Showing me how good you are with kids, how well prepared you would be for raising a child, talking about how much you want to have a child with me, telling me that I’d be a great mother and always making sure I saw how good you were at everything to do with childcare.” You explained softly, reaching out to take his hand into yours. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“You overheard me talking to Natasha two days ago, didn’t you?”
“How you talked to her about your period being late?” He asked and when you nodded, so did he. “Yes, I overheard it before I came outside.”
“And I assume you thought it meant I might be pregnant.” When he nodded, you gave him a soft smile. “Did you do all of that to show me that you’d be ready to raise a child with me should I be pregnant?”
Bucky nodded and turned to face you fully now, moving so he could take both your hands into his. “I want you to know that should you ever have the suspicion that you’re pregnant you can talk to me and that I’d be willing to step up to be a father in an instant.”
“I love you so much, Bucky.” You said and pressed a small kiss to his cheek before drawing back again. “But we won’t need to worry about that for now. I got my period just after I got out of the shower, so I’m definitely not pregnant.”
Saying it out loud made you feel almost sad or disappointed but you tried your best to overplay these feelings. But Bucky was a very observant person, especially when it came to your emotions, and the frown on his face showed that he’d realised that you weren’t all too happy at the moment.
“Are you happy about it?”
“It would have definitely been a big change and a very sudden, unplanned one at that.”
“That’s not what I asked, Sweetheart. Are you happy about it?”
You swallowed at his question and shook your head. “Not completely, no. I’m obviously happy that nothing unplanned has happened because I know that it-- it would have been a big and sudden change. But these past few days I’ve seen how prepared you truly are for a child and how good you are with children and-- and you got called my baby daddy and you kept talking about how much you were looking forward to us having children. I really started liking the idea of having a child with you, James.”
“Come here, Sweetheart.” Bucky whispered as he heard the sadness in your voice and immediately drew you into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” You protested through the tears in your voice but you held on to him nonetheless. “I just got so-- so excited about possibly being pregnant but I knew from the start that it was likely not the reason why my period was late.”
“Yes, I heard you talk to Natasha about that, too.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that I felt so excited, so happy and so ready for it.”
Bucky gently drew back from you, mustering your face for a few seconds before he spoke up again. “You feel ready to have a baby?”
“Yes.” You nodded after a small pause before you looked up at him again. “But if you’re not ready then please don’t feel forced to do anything you don’t want to just to make me happy. I can wait, I promise.”
“Doll, what about the things I did and said in the last days makes you think I’m not also more than ready to have a child with you?”
“You want to try for a child?”
“I think we should try for a baby if we’re both ready.”
“I like that idea.”
You squeaked in surprise when Bucky all but hoisted you onto the counter behind you, capturing your lips in a kiss as he got between your legs to get closer to your body. The kiss deepened as he tipped you back and pulled you closer, and when he pulled back you gave him a breathless laugh.
“For the record, I didn’t ask you to impregnate me right this instant.”
“Then I think some signals got mixed there.” Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss to your head. “But if we’re going to try, what’s stopping us from starting now?”
“For one, I’m on my period right now.”
Bucky leaned over to gently kiss your jaw. “If you’re uncomfortable with sleeping with me right now then obviously we’re not going to and I respect that. But if you’re worried that I’ll be uncomfortable, let me just tell you that a little blood doesn’t scare me.”
“I think we can wait a few more days to start trying.” You chuckled softly, running your hand up and down his neck. “There’s no need to be in such a hurry.”
“Of course, Doll. Whatever you want.” Bucky said and drew back to give you a warm smile. “I guess I’m simply excited to start a family with you.”
“I am excited to start a family with you, too.”
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𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
「 ✦ bucky barnes ✦ 」
ׂ╰┈➤18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some with have summaries if provided <3
╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮
𓇼 video games by @twoghostsfromeden
𓆉Sam Wilson attempts to teach Bucky how to play video games, but you have a different idea
𓇼 just like dad by @ladyfallonavenger
𓆉 The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.
𓇼 coming in hot by @nexusnyx (ao3 link)
𓆉When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
𓇼wallpaper by @cosmicbucky
𓆉 bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.
𓇼 consequences by @duuhrayliegh
𓇼@ellemj
𓆉 letters to santa pt2
𓆉 need and wants
𓇼 trust by @kgficz
𓆉Set during the end of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. You had been forced to work as a nurse for Hydra’s soldiers, you never expected The Winter Soldier to be one of them. What happens when he starts to care about you?
𓇼 glitter and goo by @welldonebeca
𓆉 When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up
𓇼 accidental pic by @mostlymarvelsstuff
𓆉Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally
𓇼 just friends by @cadaverousnight
𓆉A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder
𓇼 @espinosaurusrexex
𓆉Worlds Collide
🫧 The world is ending. And there are two types of people: The ones that embrace the last pieces of happiness left, and the ones that just don’t bother anymore. When those two clash, there’s no way of knowing what will happen. But maybe, some hopes and dreams aren’t so different after all and the both of them get a chance at becoming more than just acquaintances.
𓆉 refuge
🫧 You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep – lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?
𓆉happy little accidents
🫧 In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.
𓆉serious questions
🫧 Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.
𓆉 bad boys don’t buy flowers
🫧 Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...
𓆉request oneshot
𓇼 @pellucid-constellations
𓆉 unexpected
🫧 With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person you’d find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldn’t make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasn’t a feat you could manage alone
𓆉 i need him like water
🫧 You think Bucky’s having an affair. He thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. But he must notice the living room light is left on. Every night.
𓆉 flowers in the compound
🫧 That girl from the flower shop seems to be taking up a lot of Bucky’s time.
𓆉 request one shot
🫧 You knew Bucky didn't like his arm. You just didn't know how much until he accidentally hurt you with it.
𓆉 counting
🫧 Time heals all wounds. Bucky’d been holding onto that proverb ever since blip. But time had never been particularly kind to him, so he opted to keep track of the sweet girl’s in his apartment building instead, the one that made him banana bread and took him to diners at two in the morning. Sometimes, you didn’t keep the same schedule. That made Bucky panic.
𓇼 everybody talks by @nickfowlerrr
𓇼 @buckyalpine
𓆉come back to you
🫧 What happens when a time travel mission ends up with a version of Bucky from the 40′s standing on the time travel platform. 
𓆉 did you hear
𓆉 40s bucky w/ nurse!reader
𓆉 sunshine
𓆉 spiral
𓆉 pick me
𓆉 untouched
𓆉 tongue twister
𓆉 wait what pt2 pt3 pt4
𓆉 can you not pt2 pt3
𓆉 choices pt2
𓇼 aching by @bbyboybucket
𓆉After Reader gives Bucky a massage, he realizes how much he likes her touch
𓇼 tiny match maker by @jamdoughnutmagician
𓆉 Adjusting to his new life outside of the superhero business, Bucky makes the acquaintance of a very young, inquisitive girl.
𓇼 metal arm brrr by @bombsonboard
𓆉 Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.
𓇼 the cards were dealt by @bucky-fricking-barnes
𓆉Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.
𓇼 @holylulusworld
𓆉 a different kind of valentine pt2
🫧 Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.
𓆉 happy birthday big grump
🫧 Your new neighbor is a professional grump. No reason to not be nice to him on his birthday.
𓇼 siren be bound to me by @darkdemeter
𓆉He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him.
And yet overboard and on the tide you set sail across in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul... a song so familiar yet unknown.
Forgotten. And Bucky reminds you yet again that there no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there
𓇼 to have and to hold harm by @queers-gambit
𓆉after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become
𓇼 @thighs-of-betrayal-blog
𓆉 jealous bucky
𓆉 request oneshot
𓆉 hold the door
🫧 You’ve never met your new neighbor, not until an incident happens involving the apartments elevator. 
𓇼 out of practice by @drabbles-mc
𓆉 reader is a mom, bucky hasn't dated in like 70 years
𓇼 @jobean12-blog
𓆉 next door to love
🫧 When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.
𓆉 this spells love
🫧 Bucky is your best friend and he really is the best but he wants more, he wants everything, but the idea that it could ruin your friendship and he could lose you is too much...
𓇼 meet my family by @skaye44
𓆉Your parents want to meet your boyfriend Bucky which you agree, but the whole family invites itself along for the meeting.
𓇼 my sun my star pt2 pt3 by @cosmos-coma
𓆉 You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you
𓇼 @mrsbarnesblog
𓆉 my everything
🫧 The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before
𓆉 i trust you
🫧 when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help
𓇼 5+1 by @mrs-illyrian-baby
𓆉 Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk
𓇼 just like that by @navybrat817
𓆉Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier.
𓇼 @sergeantbuckybarnes
𓆉 begin again everything i wanted
🫧 When you go to meet your friend at her work you see a cute guy had been stood up, so you’re going to be the best date of his life.
𓆉 amnesia
🫧 During a fight in Madripoor you get hit in the head resulting in forgetting the last ten years of your life. And most important, your boyfriend.
𓇼 diamonds by @angrythingstarlight
𓇼 @literaryavenger
𓆉 not so bad
🫧 It's Bucky's birthday, but doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.
𓆉 happy birthday
🫧 It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you
𓇼 body and soul by @theladybarnes
𓆉 Reader has a conversation with Sam that leaves her a little confused before her date with Bucky. Includes probably the best romance movie quote to ever grace films.
𓇼 you’re my desire pt2 by @marvelouslizzie
𓆉Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.
𓇼 she chose me by @notafunkiller
𓆉Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.
𓇼 bucky has a crush by @assembletheimagines
𓇼 buckyvision by @fictionalmemoirs
𓆉 pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt5.5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10
•masterlist
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
last update march 18, 2024
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m0nsterqzzz · 1 day
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The Three Times Natasha Proposed to You and the One Time You Said Yes
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pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader
summary: your girlfriend has a habit of proposing, and you have a habit of saying no.
a/n: I was gonna do this with katniss but decided it worked better with my favorite spy and also its been way to long since I wrote for herrrrrr ahhhh anyway, I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
The first time Natasha proposed to you, you had only known her for 18 hours.
You were new to the team. So new in fact that you only knew three people’s names at a table with eight people since the other five were too busy all day to introduce themselves. Dinner was awkward, for you at least, as everyone else was busy chatting about their days with each other. They’re laughing, the bond they all share clear as joy feels the air.
You don’t feel that joy.
It’s not like you’re not happy to be here; you’re insanely grateful that Fury was willing to see past your history and allow you to join forces such as the incredible ones around you, but you just don’t feel very welcomed.
You don’t blame the team. After all, it’s only the first day, and Fury already told you about the fact that most of the people on that team aren’t very warm and friendly. It does kind of bug you though, how now the people you’re not familiar with even seem to notice your presence in the group.
It’s just the first day. Things will get better. You repeat for the 100th time, eyes trained on the table as you spoon some more of the food that was in the kitchen when Jarvis called for you into your mouth. It’s chicken over rice, a simple recipe, but the chicken is covered in some type of delicious sauce that you can’t get enough of.
“Is the food okay? It’s my family's recipe.” A girl with brunette hair and jade colored eyes sitting across from you speaks, nervously smiling as she pushes her fork around the food on her plate. She’s young, younger than everyone else on the team, and it makes you feel a bit better about being new as you remember what Fury said about her only joining about half a year ago.
You give a hesitant smile, answering honestly; “Oh…yeah. I love it. It’s delicious.” 
The girl smiles brighter, reaching across the table to hold out her hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Fury’s told me alot about you. I’m Wanda.”
“All good things I hope.” You giggle before introducing yourself, and she laughs along with you before you both go back to eating. The rest of the team slowly introduces themselves, and out of the corner of your eye you go see the way Wanda cringes when they only do it after she gave an example.
Even if they only did it once the girl made them realize, you still feel a bit more comfortable here then you did a while ago.
You notice Wanda eyeing your rings as you guys continue to eat, so you put your hand on the table in between you too. Her eyes shoot up to you in surprise, clearly not knowing that you noticed it. “Sorry for the staring. I just…I really like your rings. I love wearing them myself and I’ve never seen any like that. They’re beautiful.”
That’s how you guys start up in a conversation about rings, and then a few minutes later you’re sliding off one of your rings to give to her. She seems like the nicest person here, and you can already tell you’re going to be great friends. When you get it off, it accidently flies out of your hand, bouncing on the table before it falls off and lands somewhere on the floor. You turn red in embarrassment at the way everyone falls silent, staring at you in amusement before a redheaded woman slides out of her seat and kneels down on one knee to search for the item.
You met her earlier when you went to the gym to train, and she even helped you learn a few awesome fighting moves before she left to let you do your own thing. You can’t deny that Natasha is beautiful.
The woman smiles when she finds it, grasping the metal in her hand before she turns to face you, still on one knee as she holds it out for you to take as if she’s proposing.
If she notices the way it looks, she doesn’t say anything until Tony, the man you met when he blew up a lab earlier, laughs and mumbles under his breath, “I’m not paying for that wedding.”
You giggle, watching as Natasha stands up and turns to glare at him before facing you once again and putting it on the table near your plate. “Shut up Tony.” She mumbles before sitting back down in her own seat, and you say before shoving food into your mouth when the embarrassment sets in, “I’m not ready to settle down. Sorry Nat.”
Everyone just chuckles, and you are left with a small smile and new found happiness.
The second time she’d done it, she’d almost had you fooled that it was real.
You and her had been dating for three months, and you guys were absolutely inseparable. You’ve learned a lot about her in the year you’ve been an Avenger, and she sometimes opens up about her past. Her little sister, the red room, Dreykov.
Anyway, Fury had sent you on a mission with her, your best friend Wanda, and Steve Rogers to go and steal a flash drive from a destroyed hydra base then find some place quickly to look at what's on it. He said to find the nearest place as people would already be on the search for us, so that's why you got Nat to pull over at a mall. Not for clothes or a new pair of shoes, but to go into one of the electronic stores and use one of their computers to read what's on the file.
It was easy until Natasha noticed one of the workers looking at Steve in suspicion as they see him inserting the drive into one of the computers, and you’re about to abort the mission before your girlfriend grabs your hands and tugs you to the middle of the store, dropping into one knee and glancing at Wanda. The witch seems to get the hint even though you don’t understand what's happening, but you do when the young girl uses her magic to make a ring appear in Natashas hand. It’s beautiful, but you can tell it’s just an illusion to fool the people around you as small red whisps surround your best friend's hands.
“I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” The redhead starts, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the store but too loud as to not seem unusual. “I know you’re having my brother's baby,” She continues with that most serious face you’ve ever seen, and you have to try your hardest not to burst out laughing. “But I can treat you better than he ever could.”
The whole crowd of people in the store are now focused on you, even the workers which gives Steve the time he needs to enter the hard drive into one of the computers and read what's on it.
“So what do you say hottie? You wanna do this or not? Marry me?” You stare at her for a few minutes, eyes glancing at the blonde haired man who silently laughs at the scene in front of him before sending you a thumbs up to show he’s done and you guys can go.
“No!” Everyone quietly gasps, all looking away as Natasha fakes offense. “No! What the fuck? What kind of proposal is this? I’m just trying to buy a new phone, Stacy! And you’ve got a huge barbecue stain on that sweater. This is truly the best you could do?”
You're having way too much fun with it as you scoff before gently slapping her, trying your hardest not to laugh at the way everyone gasps even louder while you storm out.
Your friends and girlfriend quickly catch up with you, and you all finally burst out laughing by the time you’re getting in the car and driving away from the mall right as some scary looking military vehicle pulls up to the building. “Did you have to slap me?” Natasha laughs out, the ring box Wanda had magically created is now gone as she sits next to you in the back seat. “I feel like you enjoyed that way too much.”
“I did enjoy it. I’m also just practicing for the day you do propose to me.” She lets out a fake annoyed groan, slinging an arm over your shoulder as she pulls you to lay against her side.
Despite the playful mood, you can’t help but feel a fluttery feeling in your chest and a warm blush coating your face at the thought of being married to this girl. Little did you know, she was feeling the exact same.
When she did it a third time, it almost seemed like it was second nature for her to pull out a ring box and propose to you. 
You had just got back to the Avengers tower after a lunch date, and she froze on the doorstep when she realized you were no longer beside her. She turns in circles, panic filling her when she doesn’t see you. She’s a spy for fuck sakes, how could she have not noticed something happening to you.
 Her panic fades when you pop out from behind a thick tree, a snowball made from the small amount of snow on the grass in hand as you send her a mischievous smile. She doesn’t have any time to move before you’re launching it in her direction, practically falling over with laughter as it hits her forehead and then breaks into pieces.
The redhead still seems a bit shocked, but she quickly gets over it as she groans with a grin and runs over to harshly tackle you to the ground. It knocks the wind out of you, but you’re both still laughing so hard your stomach hurts as she grabs some snow from beside your head and then lets it fall onto you. “You wanna play that fucking game? Oh we can play that game honey.”
You shake your head, but the bright smile on your face tells her that you’re not actually scared. “No. I’m sorry Tasha. We can talk this out.” When she makes a, “tsk…tsk” noise with her mouth, you use all your strength to push her off of you, sprinting towards your home even though you can hear the sound of Natasha’s boots hastily crunching the snow beneath them as she runs after you.
She wraps her arms around your waist, easily picking you up off the ground and spinning you around. As cringy as it is, your laugh makes her laugh, and the moment is so perfect as she slowly lets you down so she can look you in the eyes.
“Wait a second.” Natasha mumbles, before grabbing something from her pocket, telling you to turn around for a minute while she makes you a surprise. You draw shapes in the snow in the meantime, your fingers practically numb but by the time you’re done, every planet is drawn into the frozen canvas. “Alright. Turn around.” She speaks again, and your smile grows- if possible- at the sight.
She’s messily formed a ring with the wrapper from a straw at dinner, and now she’s balanced on one knee in the icy snow as she grins up at you. “Will you marry me, and be mine forever?”
You pretend to think about it for a moment, finally holding at your left hand for her to put the ring on as you yell out, “Of course I’ll marry you!”
The russian girl laughs, once again picking you up to twirl you around before she sets you down to kiss you easier.
From a window high up in the Avengers tour, Wanda watches the interaction while drinking her tea and then closing her curtains. “When is she gonna do it for real?” She whispers to herself, already so done with the fact that Natasha has proposed to you three times, and yet she hasn’t been able to wear a pretty bridesmaid dress in her whole live.
The day Natasha proposed in the privacy of the cabin Tony’s letting you borrow for a weekend, twinkling lights dressing the living room and the dining table decorated with candles, rose petals and fancy wine that’s probably from Pepper, was the time you know she wasn't kidding.
As the sun sets behind the clouds, you and Natasha sit across from each other with your free hands hooked together beside your plates. The setting sun casts gentle rays upon your face from the window, illuminating your features with a golden light. You two share a quiet, comfortable silence for a moment before she looks up from her plate to you, a smile gracing her lips. You look at Natasha, heart beating softly in your chest from the soft, gentle atmosphere of the moment. She lets go of her fork to use that hand to grab ahold of your other hand, your fingertips intertwined gently. Your eyes meet across the table, and for a second it’s just you guys in the world. 
The girl then speaks, her words sincere and clear, as she makes her proposal. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you; I’ve wanted to since the first date we went on. I was scared though…..scared of finding someone I love in a world that could take it away so easily. But now….now I realize. It doesn’t matter. As long as I get to be with you for what time we have left, it’s worth it. So," she says softly, tilting her head to the side and smiling as she grabs a ring box from her pocket and opening it so you can see the diamond ring inside before standing up from her seat so she can get down on one knee next to the table. 
"Will you marry me?" 
The question hangs in the air as you gaze into the girl's eyes and processes the words. Your mind reels from the unexpectedness of it all, but you also can't help the surge of joy welling in her chest.
“Yes. Yes of course I will!” Her grin brightens, and she’s still kneeled as she wraps her arms around your waist to hug you as tight as she can. You join her on your knees so you’re on her level, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a passionate kiss. You would’ve married her the first time she asked, but you’re somehow glad you waited until now to say yes. This is perfect.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
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spider-stark · 1 day
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INFINITELY YOU
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part one // back at the beginning
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion
WORD COUNT - 5.4k
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // playlist // no way home fan fiction //
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The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.  
It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.  
“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”  
God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.
Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”  
Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.  
With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.  
She was dead—Aunt May was dead.  
And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.  
“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”  
You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.  
But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.  
You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…  
Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.  
“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”  
He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this… 
Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.  
“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.  
“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?  
But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”  
You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…  
You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.  
And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her. 
She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.  
“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”  
It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.  
They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.  
And it still made you angry.  
“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.  
“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”  
He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.  
She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”  
Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.  
“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”  
Understand.  
If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.  
Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.  
You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.  
At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”  
“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”  
“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”  
Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.  
You weren’t used to this.  
Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.  
“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”  
It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.  
Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.  
You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.  
Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.  
The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.  
It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.  
You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…  
This was different, somehow.  
It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.  
It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.  
Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.  
But Peter wasn’t like other people.  
Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.  
His eyes couldn't lie, though.
Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.  
They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.  
“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.  
Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.  
His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.  
“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”  
You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”  
You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.  
Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?  
It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.  
It wouldn’t bring May back to life.  
“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”  
Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”  
You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.  
“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”  
You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.  
Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.  
Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.  
But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.  
“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”  
You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”  
He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.  
“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”  
“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.  
Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.  
“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”  
You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”  
“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”  
A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”  
He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”  
His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.  
You knew better than to think he meant it.  
But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.  
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You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.  
Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.  
But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.  
You were good at expressing anger, though.  
You were very good at expressing anger.  
After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.  
And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.  
By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.  
But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.  
There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.  
Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.  
The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.  
Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.  
It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.  
“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.  
The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.  
Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.  
Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”  
“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”  
You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.  
“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”  
You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”  
Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.  
“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.  
His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”  
His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.  
You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.  
The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.  
Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.  
And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.  
“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”  
Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.  
Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.  
And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.  
“I will,” you promised.  
Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”  
You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.  
The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.  
“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”  
He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”  
The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”  
He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”  
“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”  
“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.  
“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”  
“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.  
You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”  
The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.  
“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”  
The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.  
“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”  
Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.  
You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.  
“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”  
“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”  
Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.  
“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”  
“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.  
Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”  
The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.  
“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.  
Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”  
He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.  
“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”  
Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.  
A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.  
Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.  
“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”  
You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”  
Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.  
“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”  
He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.  
“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.  
You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.
He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”  
You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.  
“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.  
There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.  
But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.  
Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”  
This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.  
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a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.
if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!
part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st
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Text
The Lady - 3
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Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader
Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.
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Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , -
Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments.
Thank you for your continued encouragement! ❤️❤️❤️
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You slammed your hands onto the mahogany table, fixing Bucky with a disbelieving glare. "You want me to what?"
Bucky leaned back in his chair, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he looked you up and down. "I want you to put a small bomb into a cake."
You shook your head in disbelief. "This is the most insane thing I've ever heard."
Earlier, 30 minutes ago:
You hadn't anticipated any of this when you decided to pay Bucky a visit. Stepping into the nightclub he owned, you were met with a wave of pulsating music and flashing lights, a stark contrast to the quiet elegance of the estate.
"Your Grace, welcome!" Bucky's voice boomed over the crowd, drawing attention from every corner of the room. Rolling your eyes at his exuberance, you made your way up to the second floor, feeling eyes following your every move.
Bucky left the table where girls surrounded him, their eyes shooting daggers at you as if you were stealing him away.
Your thoughts echoed, 'I don't even want to be in the same room with him.'
As he approached you, Bucky flashed you a charming smile. "What do you think about this place?"
You shrugged nonchalantly. "It's nice, I guess."
He chuckled, leaning in closer. "The Duke's been turning a pretty penny with this joint."
"Really?" you replied, genuinely surprised.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "Let's talk privately. I know you hate being here."
You followed Bucky to a quieter corner, the thumping bass of the music fading into the background as you settled into a booth. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke.
You arrived at Bucky's office, the room exuding an air of power and authority. As he gestured towards a board adorned with photos and plans, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle in.
Pointing your finger towards the board, you narrowed your eyes. "Five photos, five explosions."
Bucky snapped his fingers in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's right."
You studied the images closely, your mind racing with the implications of what Bucky was asking of you.
"What exactly do you do?" you inquired, your voice betraying a hint of apprehension.
Bucky leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. "When the police, lawyers, and bribes don't work, that's where I come in."
Your stomach churned at his words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Private executioner," you muttered, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.
Bucky chuckled, his laughter ringing out in the dimly lit room. "You make it sound scary. But you're right."
Bucky's words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone oozing with confidence and determination.
"But rest assured, Your Grace," he continued his voice smooth yet laced with an undeniable edge. "I won't let you do the dirty work."
As Bucky explained the situation, his hands moved with purpose, punctuating each word. His eyes glinted with determination, a silent challenge in his gaze.
"You see, this Duke owns a nightclub in the same area as me," Bucky began, his voice low but intense. "He feels threatened by my club's success, so he's been causing unnecessary problems for me."
You furrowed your brow, trying to process the gravity of his request. "So it's about business competition," you mused aloud, your arms crossed defensively over your chest.
Bucky caught your hesitation, his jaw clenching slightly as he sensed your reluctance. "Look, I know it's a big ask," he conceded, his tone softening just a fraction. "But this Duke needs to learn that he can't push me around."
As Bucky dropped the bombshell revelation, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes darting around the room to ensure privacy.
"And there's another thing," he began, his tone grave. "This person we're dealing with... he's a predator."
Your stomach churned at the revelation, a surge of anger and revulsion coursing through you. Yet, amidst the darkness of the situation, a glimmer of relief washed over you – knowing that your actions would be directed against someone so vile lessened the weight of your conscience.
"What kind of explosion are we talking about?" you asked, your voice edged with determination, ready to take on the task.
He clapped his hand "Finally, we're speaking at the same language."
Bucky's reply came without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "A cake that could explode."
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his seemingly flippant response. "Stop joking, please," you retorted, your words laced with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity.
Bucky chuckled at your skepticism. "I'm not kidding," he insisted, his expression serious despite the playful tone in his voice.
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he outlined his vision. "I want it to be dramatic. When the cake explodes, I want him to be thrown back, like in those superhero movies where the hero sends the villain flying into a wall."
With a theatrical flourish, he mimicked the sound effect. "Whoosh..."
You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his theatrics. "Whoosh, huh?" you repeated, mimicking a baseball swing with your hand.
Bucky grinned in response, playing along with your jest. "Yeah, whoosh," he affirmed, nodding in agreement.
As you watched Bucky's playful antics, a fleeting thought crossed your mind – if only you could open his head and see what was truly happening inside.
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As the countdown approached its final moments, you and Bucky assumed your roles as waitstaff, blending seamlessly into the crowd gathered for the Duke of Langley's party.
Behind the bar, Bucky expertly mixed drinks while you diligently wiped down glasses, your eyes fixed on the unsuspecting target near the elaborate cake.
You shot him a sharp glance, mentioning your past hitting a nerve. Bucky quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Sensitive topic, I see. Just trying to make conversation," he offered with a shrug, his attention already shifting to his watch.
As the Duke began his speech, the guests gravitated towards him, leaving the bar momentarily deserted. Bucky stood closer to you, his presence looming over you as he leaned in slightly. "I still wonder why you wandered off alone to the U.S."
Bucky asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity, "Was the rumor true that your stepdad kicked you out?"
With a swift tug, he pulled you down to the ground just as the countdown reached its climax. His smirk was unmistakable as he whispered, "5... 4... 3... 2... 1."
And then, the explosion.
A deafening 'BANG' reverberated through the room, followed by startled cries and screams.
The force of the explosion sent a rush of wind through the room, causing glass to shatter and chaos to erupt. In the midst of the commotion, Bucky instinctively shielded you, his protective stance contrasting sharply with the panic unfolding around you.
As screams filled the air and guests scrambled for safety, Bucky couldn't help but chuckle lowly at the scene before him. Through the haze of smoke and confusion, he spotted the Duke of Langley sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
"Hahahaha," Bucky laughed, his amusement evident as he surveyed the aftermath.
But while he found humor in the chaos, you couldn't quite grasp what was so amusing about the situation.
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For the next couple of days, you couldn't shake the memory of the Duke's unfortunate fate. Even as Hugo excitedly dragged you to a tennis tournament – a sport you cared little for, except when it came to Hugo's enthusiasm – you found it hard to muster any interest.
Seated in the VIP area, you watched the players enter the field without much enthusiasm.
"Something bothering you?" A deep voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see Eddie beside you. Dressed sharply in a suit with a polo shirt underneath and sporting sunglasses, he smiled at you, his presence offering a welcome distraction.
You sighed, feeling the weight of recent events. "Yeah, just... recent events, you know?"
Eddie's smile faltered slightly as he picked up on your somber mood. "I heard about the nightclub incident. Quite the news."
Eddie's mention of the "sweet bomb" at Duke Langley's party caught you off guard, and you looked at him with a questioning expression.
He chuckled at your reaction. "That bomb reminded me of the time when you wanted to run away from the dormitory and decided to make a big scene."
You couldn't help but laugh. "You remember that?"
Eddie leaned in closer, his expression curious. "Is this related to Barnes?"
You nodded. "Yup. Seems like I've gotten myself into quite the mess."
Eddie's tone was somber as he addressed you. "Y/N, I didn't expect you to make a bomb for Barnes."
You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "8 million pounds, Eddie. Even if I sold my kidney and heart, it still wouldn't cover it."
He chuckled softly. "If you want, I could make him go away."
But you shook your head, remembering Bucky's enjoyment amidst the chaos at Duke Langley's party. "It's better if you don't get near him. For your own good, for your mental health."
"Duke of Langley had it coming," you added, your voice tinged with resignation and defiance.
Eddie's lips curled into a wry smile, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "That's one way to put it. But you've certainly made a splash."
You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by his cryptic remark. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Eddie's expression turned serious as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You've caught the attention of some dangerous individuals. Now everyone from petty thugs to organized crime bosses sees you as a valuable asset."
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Author Note: Hey friends,
If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.
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amphibiahawks321 · 2 days
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[Wanda walked up to her house door]'
Wanda : Ugh! I swear today is the worst day ever!
Unlocked door
M!Reader : Hey Wanda! I made your favourite! Cholent!
Wanda : .....
Wanda : HOW ARE WE NOT MARRIED YET!
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romanoffshouse · 3 days
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Gamora: You hit me with a rock!
Nebula: You threw a chair at me!
Gamora: I said I was sorry!
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ironstrange1991 · 2 days
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Movie Night
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Paring: Defender!Strange x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Stephen's work on a Friday night leaves you upset, but choosing the right movie can change everything and save the night.
Word Count: 3,1k
Warnings: Small argument and provocation. SMUT: Fingering, umprotected p in v sex, creampie.
A/N: It took me two months to finish this fic and this shows how hard authors block had hit me, but I'm happy to finally have something to post. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading :)
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Movie nights are sacred to you and Stephen knows this very well, yet there he was locked in the meeting room with the Defenders ironing out the final details for the next mission. You shouldn't be mad about the situation because this time Stephen wouldn't participate, on the contrary, he would take the next few days to slow down and spend some time with you. So, it was acceptable for him to waste a few minutes of your Friday night since you’ll have a lot of time to spend together, but it wasn't any less annoying and tonight you didn't want to be understanding. Not at all.
When he finally left the meeting room, you were sitting crisscrossed on the couch, TV control in hand, choosing something to watch alone. You didn't bother to say hi or good night to his friends and they didn't even dare say anything to you because they knew you were mad.
As if that wasn't enough, Stephen still stood for ten minutes talking by the door until finally the Defenders left and he returned to the living room.
"You might as well invite them to live here with you." You snorted. Irritation appearing in the way you distilled each word. "I mean, since they're here all the fucking time and you're always willing to devote all your damn time to them, it would be so much easier and more practical if they didn't even have to leave, wouldn't it?"
Stephen didn't respond, he knew better than to talk back to you when you were angry.
Instead, he walked up behind the couch and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and placing a small kiss on your skin. You felt your entire body tingling with the sensation, but you didn't show any reaction.
"I'm going to take a shower, do you want to come with me?" He asked in your ear, completely ignoring your attempt to start a fight and making a point of rubbing his beard on your neck in an attempt to disarm you.
"In case you haven't noticed, I've already taken a shower, Stephen. I've also had dinner, alone by the way, but you could have called your friends to accompany you. You missed a great opportunity."
He sighed, clearly frustrated, but walked away without saying anything. You knew you were being childish, you knew very well that Stephen did as much as he could to spend more time with you, but sometimes you wanted to ignore everything you knew and focus on the fact that he spent more time with his friends than with you.
You took a long time to choose what to watch and when Stephen came back you were lying on the couch, covered by a fluffy blanket. The night was particularly cold even with the heater on. The first few minutes of the film you had finally chosen were playing on the TV.
"Did you really start without me?" He complained, patting your leg so you would give him a seat.
To be honest, you didn't think he would come down to watch the movie with you after the way you spoke to him, but Defender hated arguments and would do anything to make sure you didn't get into arguments. However, you didn't want to give in.
"Don't make me start, Stephen." You said moving forward and giving him space to lie down behind you. Even though he knew you were angry, he made a point of placing his arm so you could rest your head and wrapped the other around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. He was always so comfortably warm and the delicious smell of his conditioner managed to soften you - just a little - so you explained.
"The movie just started, you didn't miss anything."
He hummed giving you a small kiss on the shoulder "What is it about?"
You shrugged "It's a thriller. It's called Killing me softly. I chose it by the name actually."
"Um" He said snuggling and cupping your hand with his, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I'm not going anywhere in the morning, okay? I'll be all yours."
You sighed but didn't respond, choosing to pay attention to the scenes in front of you that were quickly becoming interesting. Really interesting.
The protagonist had met a stranger on the street - of course the stranger was sexy and mysterious - and had the brilliant idea of ​​going to his house and the scene quickly escalated into a sex scene like those that you would be embarrassed to death if you were watching with your parents, but as you were watching with your husband, the situation was very different.
You've never been one to watch porn, contrary to what should happen, the explicit sex and the constant fake moaning on screen used to be a turn off for you, but the subtlety of sex scenes in Hollywood films used to work much better and you already could feel your body reacting to the images in front of you and the fact that you were cuddling with your man who happened to be so warm and smelling so good and that was definitely sexier than the actor in the movie didn't help much.
The scene ended and then another began and soon after another, and you were surprised by your husband's baritone voice in your ear.
"I think I like this movie." He said, pressing a very obvious erection against your ass and you felt your face blush, but you didn't have time to react because he started to place kisses on your neck, brushing his beard against your skin and his hand let go of yours to sneak inside your blouse and feel your breasts while he pressed his hard on against you again.
By now you weren't exactly paying attention to the movie in front of you, your body was responding to him in all the right ways and the next thing you knew you were pressing your thighs together.
"I thought you were mad at me, but then you chose this movie..." He rasped and bit your earlobe and you felt your entire body tremble.
"I'm mad at you and I didn't know it was this kind of movie." You explained yourself.
He gave you several kisses on your neck and then licked your ear, biting it again and started to grind his erection on your ass without any shame.
"Hm, I guess I'll need to do something to change that then." He pinched your nipple lightly and then lowered his hand into your pajama shorts, caressing your pussy covered in the fabric of your panties, which at that point was completely wet.
An involuntary moan escaped your lips and you gave in to the desire growing quickly inside you, bucking up your hips against his hand for his delight.
"You're so wet baby, is this because of the movie or because of me?"
You bit your lip when his hand reached inside your panties and his trembling fingers circled your clit.
"It's you." You responded amidst groans.
A succession of dialogue scenes that you weren't paying the slightest attention to gave way to another sex scene and your hand searched for Stephen, reaching inside his sweatpants and delighting in the fact that he wasn't wearing underwear. You grabbed his cock and started pumping it up and down slowly which made him moan right in your ear and your whole body tingled.
The moans coming from the TV got louder and Stephen increased the pace of his fingers on your clit and whispered in your ear.
"Do you like the way he does it?" He asked referring to the character in the film.
"Y-yes."
"Do you want me to fuck you like that?"
You moaned loudly when he finally entered you with his fingers, but you needed so much more than his fingers.
"Yes, please." You finally responded.
"Will this make up for the hours I spent in meetings with my friends?" He teased. "You can't be mad at me anymore."
 You nodded in agreement and closed your eyes, indulging in the pleasure his fingers provided going in and out of you.
Stephen sat down and you turned around, laying on your back, your legs hanging open for him to do whatever he wanted with you.
He took his hands to the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties and pulled them off quickly and discarded them on the floor. He had a smug little smile on his lips that wasn't very common for him, but you were too caught up in the pursuit of your pleasure to care.
He stood up for a second and took off his pants and t-shirt, completely undressing for you and knelt between your legs, touching you again, rubbing your clit in circles with two trembling fingers while pumping his delicious hard cock with his other hand.
"You're so beautiful" You murmured between moans as you grabbed your tits, pinching your own nipples and delighting in the pleasure that his fingers gave you. "It's so unfair"
Stephen chuckled collecting your slick with his fingers and spreading it on his cock which by now was rock hard and pulsing in his hand, he gave a couple of jerks and rubbed his tip on your slit teasing you.
"Baby... please don't tease. N-need you."
"Yeah? But you were so mad at me a few minutes ago. What changed?"
He placed the tip at your entrance, but didn't force it in and held your hips down when you threatened to lift them up.
"Come on baby, tell me."
You bit your bottom lip holding back a moan and admitted "I was only mad because I was jealous. Because you weren't paying attention to me."
He sighed heavily, forcing his cock and letting it stretch you slowly and allowing himself a moan of his own.
"And that's why you were so mean? Saying those things to me. Do you think I deserve to be treated like that?"
You knew very well that he was playing games with you, but you didn't care, you needed him inside you, you would say anything, do anything he wanted you to do.
"I'm sorry, baby, please, need you. I am so fucking horny. Please fuck me... punish me."
That completely disarmed him and you could feel his cock throbbing just from your words and you knew he liked the idea. "I was mean to you and you don't deserve it. You're such a good husband."
Stephen entered you with a hard thrust making you squirm with the delicious stretch. That man was so fucking big.
He held both of your knees to keep your legs spread wide for him and began to move slowly at first, keeping his eyes fixed on where the two of you joined together. "So fucking beautiful." He moaned and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation. "Pussy looks so fucking beautiful taking my cock. Promise me you won't get mad at me again because of work. You know I do everything I can to be with you. I love you so much, baby."
You moaned loudly, feeling him go even deeper when he leaned forward laying on top of you, holding his weight with just his forearms. You cupped his face with both hands.
"I promise. I love you so much, Stephen..." You kissed him hard and kept kissing him while begging. "Need you by my side... all the time, need you so much... oh god please... fuck me, punish me, do whatever the fuck you want to me... I just want it so badly."
Stephen rested his hands on the arm of the sofa and began to thrust hard, each thrust harder and faster than the next. You wrapped your arms around him and your nails dug deep into the flesh of his back as you locked your legs around his hips, letting yourself be dominated by him. Your hands went down to his ass, pulling him against you, wanting him to enter you completely. Somehow you knew it would never be enough, you would always want more of him.
Stephen searched for your lips and kissed you again, this time harder, his breathing quickly becoming ragged and you could feel him pulsing inside you.
"Oh my god Stephen... feels so good baby, cock fucking me so good."
He moaned, lowering his lips to your neck and giving small kisses and bites there, his breathing and baritone voice making your whole body tingle.
"And you're taking me so fucking good. You always take it so good. I know you love my cock, tell me how much you love it."
"So much... so so much" You almost purred the words as you tightened your arms around him. "Love you... so much"
He kissed you and you could see him trying hard not to cum yet. He stopped and tapped your thigh for you to unlock your legs around him and pulled out asking gently.
"Turn around baby. Get on your hands and knees for me."
You smiled, quickly obeying him and positioning yourself on all fours for him. Defender didn't usually take control like that, but oh you loved it when he did. In fact, you doubted there was anything your husband could do that you didn't love.
You felt his hands squeezing your waist and positioning your ass the way he wantedyou’re your surprise he kissed one of your cheeks and lightly patted the other. "And you wonder why I love you so much, baby... How could I not love such a sweet, perfect little thing like you?"
You moaned softly at just the words and felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your folds. Teasing you. He positioned it at your entrance and forced it slowly, but not enough to penetrate you the way you needed and you whimpered.
"Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how much you need me."
"More than anything. I need you more than anything. That's why I was so mad, because I wanted you to pay attention to me."
He entered you with a single strong, deep thrust and he moaned loudly.
"Now I'm all your, baby. Enjoy it. I know you love my cock, take it. It's yours."
You moaned when he started thrusting hard and fast. You were definitely not used to Stephen fucking you like that, but you loved the intensity, the way his body forced itself against you, how little by little he lost himself in his own pleasure, placing more and more of the weight of his body on you. You loved being in control, but it was undeniable that being dominated by him was extremely satisfying.
He used one of his hands to hold your shoulder, putting more force into his thrusts, his moans became increasingly louder and more obscene and you loved the sound of them, you loved having Stephen like that.
"Fuck baby, tell me your close, I can't hold back much longer..."
You could feel his cock throbbing inside you and the knot deep in your belly threatening to break.
"Yes, Stephen, please. I am so close. Fuck me harder. Make me cum."
As if possible, Stephen increased the strength of his thrusts, you were both panting and it didn't take long for the two of you to reach the limit together.
Stephen tightened his grip on your shoulder and waist and forced himself against you, emptying himself. "That's it baby. That's what you wanted so much, right? Take it."
He groaned, totally lost in his own release and your legs shook with the intensity of the thrusts and your insides exploded in an orgasm so strong that your entire body began to shake.
Stephen pulled out and allowed you to turn around and flop onto the couch completely undone. He conjured a cloth and gently cleaned you in silence and then cleaned himself as best he could and disappeared with the dirty cloth and got up to put on his pants. He sat back down and you ran to snuggle into his lap. He wrapped the blanket around your naked body and then stared at the TV for a minute and let out a soft chuckle.
"The movie is over." He said "I can't say whether I liked it or not because frankly I didn't pay attention to it for a second."
You chuckled wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling further into the warmth of his chest.
"I chose this movie on purpose." You confessed. "I thought I could make you feel like it and say no, but I'm not strong enough."
He took his hand to your hair and began to gently caress it. "I'm sorry for irritating you. I know how patient you are with my work and for you to be so angry with me I must have crossed a line."
You didn't respond, but a heavy sigh escaped your nostrils and he took it as confirmation of his words.
"We'll have some time for both of us now and I promise I'll try to slow down a little."
You lifted your head to look at him. There was a look of genuine concern on his face and you could leave him like that, but again, you weren't that strong.
"I'm not mad at you anymore, Steph."
He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "No?"
"I should be because you really crossed the line today, but it's hard to stay mad at you when you're the best husband in the world."
A smile played on his lips upon hearing that. "That's always wonderful to hear, you know?"
You caressed his face lightly "It's true. I really don't think there is a better man than you in this world. Even though sometimes you make me angry."
He let out a small laugh "Good to know."
You thought for a moment before making a second confession.
"I liked the way you made love to me tonight." Your face felt completely hot as soon as the words left your mouth.
He caressed her cheeks "And how was that?"
"You know...hard."
He nodded "I always make love hard to you, baby."
"Not like that. It was harder tonight. I liked it. I like it when you take control."
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck "I like it too. I keep it well hidden, but there is a part of me that is extremely controlling, baby."
You smirked, "It's not that hidden."
You smiled, watching him use magic to turn off the TV and standing up, keeping you in his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips. He opened a portal to your shared bedroom.
"Let's go to bed." He said placing a kiss on your forehead.
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Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!
DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
Tag list: @doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @nicoletk @azu21 @captaincarmel416 @harlekin6 @coffedraven @withalittlehoney
@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @whiskeyho @sherlux @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma @sassenach-on-the-rocks
@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief @slytherinqueen4life
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lives-in-midgard · 2 days
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You're her entire world
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Pairing: Yelena Belova x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader (platonic)
Summary: You finally tell Yelena about your feelings for her.
Word Count: 1225
Request: Bucky telling Reader how obvious it is that Yelena likes them but Yelena is a little shy//nervous to say anything to reader so basically Bucky becomes the match maker? [See full request here]
Prompt 5: “Me and.… are just friends. You’re kidding, right? …. looks at you like you’re their entire world.”
A/N: Thank you for requesting this from my 1K celebration I hope you like it!!
Divider made by @firefly-graphics
Masterlist
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In the last few weeks, you and Yelena have become closer to each other. You spent a lot of time together and your crush on her grew because of that. She often visited you at the compound or you drove to her apartment. Spending time together also distracted you from worrying about Natasha and Bucky since they were both on a long and difficult mission. Even though you knew you didn’t have to worry about Bucky, you couldn’t help it because he’s your best friend. And Natasha is also one of the best assassins out there, probably even the best, but since Yelena is her sister, she can’t help it either.
So, for the past few weeks you’ve been watching movies or TV shows, visiting some places in New York that Yelena hasn’t seen yet and wanted to see, and when you found out that Yelena can only cook mac and cheese, you had to change that and asked if she would like to cook something with you. You had a lot of fun and Yelena started to really enjoy cooking with you. Yelena and you also really enjoyed being outside at night and watching the stars. Sometimes Yelena would fall asleep almost cuddling with you and resting her head on your chest. This also happened when you had movie nights together, and you loved when that happened.
You love hanging out with Yelena. You love everything about it. Her silly jokes, her sarcastic comments, her laughter, sitting close to each other and having a deep conversation late into the night.
The other Avengers who weren’t on a mission all noticed how close you were. Wanda always smiling at you both and Clint was also very happy that you were having fun together.
You were currently sitting on the couch in the living room at the compound and were discussing what you wanted to watch this time.
“So, what do you want to watch?” You asked as you opened Netflix.
“What would you suggest?” She asked shyly and you smiled at her.
“Hmm, let me think.” You said, looking at your movie watchlist you had on Netflix.
“What about this one? It’s called ‘Little Women’, and I really liked it the first time I saw it.”
“Okay, let’s watch that.” She said and you started to giggle.
“What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe you should know that there is an actress in this movie who looks a lot like you.”
“Is that why you like this movie?” Yelena said, starting to blush.
“Maybe” You teased.
“Okay...umm, let’s just watch the movie.” Yelena said quietly and you started the movie.
After a while you sat very close to each other, and rested your head on her shoulder while you watched the movie. You were so distracted by the movie that you didn’t even hear the Quinjet land at the compound. You didn’t even notice the elevator door opening behind you.
“Hey you two.” You suddenly heard Natasha say. You both quickly moved away from each other and turned around. You started to smile when you saw Bucky standing there. You got up from the couch and ran to Bucky.
“I’m so glad you’re back safely.”
“I missed you.” Bucky said and wrapped his arms around you. As you hugged him, you heard Yelena walk towards Natasha.
“You’re back sestra! “Yelena said and hugged Natasha.
You decided to let them take a shower, while you finished the movie. After you all had dinner together, Bucky and Natsha told the others about the successful mission. Then Steve suggested to watch a movie. After the movie ended, you went to your room. You had only been there a few minutes when you heard a knock on your door.
“Come in.” You said and Bucky opened the door.
“Hey.” He said with a smile.
“Hey, Buck.” You said, walking up to him with a smile.
“I thought I’d come to you to hear what I missed while I was away.”
“Sure, come on, let’s sit down.” You said and walked over to your bed. Bucky sat down next to you, and you smiled at him.
“So, what do you want to know?”
“Isn’t there something you want to tell me?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Buck?” You said and Bucky chuckled.
“When were you going to tell me that you and Yelena are finally a couple?” Bucky said and you were confused now.
“What no me and Yelena are just friends.”
“You’re kidding right?” Bucky said and you just shook your head, not knowing what to say.
“Yelena looks at you like you’re her entire world.”
“What?” You said nervously.
“It’s so obvious that Yelena likes you too. The way she looks at you tells everything.”
“Are you sure, Buck?”
“Definitely.” You smiled and started telling Bucky everything he missed and how you and Yelena became so close.
“Please promise me that you will tell Yelena about your feelings for her.”
“Okay, I promise, but I don’t know how.”
“Just tell her how you feel and what she means to you.”
“Thanks, Buck. You’re the best.” Bucky started to smile and pulled you closer with his metal arm. You talked for a few more minutes when Bucky decided to look for Steve.
Three days have passed since Bucky and Natasha returned from the mission. You were watching a movie with Bucky, Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Yelena. After the movie ended you talked for a few more minutes until Bucky suddenly said.
“I think I’m heading to my room, I’m already tired.” He said and looked at Steve.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Okay, goodnight, Grandpas.” Natasha said, making the others laugh while Bucky and Steve looked at her annoyed. Before Bucky left the room, he winked at you. Natasha and Wanda stayed for a few minutes and then decided to leave as well. So, now you were alone with Yelena.
“Do you want to watch something?” She asked and you nodded, but then had to think about what Bucky had said. Now was the opportunity to tell Yelena.
“Well, actually there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.”
“Of course, go for it.” She said but sounded a little nervous.
“Well, how do I start…” You took a deep breath and Yelena smiled softly at you.
“Yelena, I like you a lot and not just as a friend. My day always gets better when I see you…you mean so much to me.”
“Oh, Y/n, I can’t believe you’re saying that because I feel the same way about you.” She said, making you smile.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was just too shy to tell you and wasn’t sure if you feel the same way, especially because of my past.” Yelena said, looking away for a second, but then back at you.
“Hey, I know you’ve been through a lot and that doesn’t change anything. I love you for who you are.”
“Thank you for saying that, it means so much to me.”
“So, what are we doing on our first date?” You asked and her smile started to grow, and she spoke, “I think I already have an idea.”
You were so glad that Yelena feels the same way and you can’t wait to see what idea she has for your first date.
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Taglist:
@marvelogic | @yelenasdiary | @youralphawolf72 | @buckys-wintersoldier
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soluswalking · 1 day
Text
Milker (Wanda Maximoff X Fem!Reader)
Warnings: smut, lactation kink, dub-conish, praise kink, minors DNI (let me know if there’s more)
Summary: you wake strapped to your bed and tubes on your...
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Милая = darling
__________
DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE A MINOR
For months you’ve been bound by her magic, confined permanently to her side in an effort for her to create her perfect reality with you by her side. No, you weren’t her’s. You came from another universe distant from hers where your Wanda had perished in a horrific accident which you would later find out was orchestrated by the Wanda before you. 
This Wanda, from whatever universe she originated from, wanted you. 
“Mилая…” she whispered as her long, deft fingers ran along your jawline. You stirred awake to find yourself confined once more. This time tubes were suctioned to your nipples as a warm, milky white liquid left the tubes and into a glass cup not too far from where you’re strapped down. 
Upon instinct you thrashed wildly. 
Yet, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your attempts would be futile. 
A whine escaped your lips making the Scarlet Witch’s lips twitched into a smile. “There, there, милая. No need to struggle. See? The process is painless.” She remarked with her fingers lightly flicking the tube. 
“L-let me go…” You pleaded. 
Eyebrows twitched up in amusement.  “Oh?” She mocked. Her finger that rested on your jaw trailed down your body, sending shivers in its wake before her hand rested over your clothed sex. She brought her lips close to your ear. “I don’t think so, Милая.” 
Her thumb rubbed your slit through your clothing, making your squirm. Your body practically responded on its own. Hips thrusted for her touch, searching and yearning for more. “W-Wanda please…” 
She hummed in approval especially as more liquid seemed to seep from your breasts and into the pump. So she slipped her fingers through your waistband and under your panties before finding your slicked sex. “I love how wet you are for me, Милая.” 
She won. You know that.
“Please…” You begged pathetically. 
Wanda placed a kiss on your cheek. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, my love.” Her pointer and middle finger slipped into your digits. “Hmmm…that’s my good girl.” Her praise caused you to clench around her fingers and without wasting another second, her fingers began thrusting rapidly into you. 
“Scream for me, Милая. I want the universe to know who you belong to…” She growled lowly into your ear. Her pace was ungodly. If you weren’t strapped down to the bed, you most likely would’ve fell off. 
“W-Wanda…I-I’m gonna c-c…” The words don’t escape your lips in time. Wanda sensed what was about to happen as she wrapped an arm around your body to keep you from convulsing wildly that you hurt yourself. “Cum for me…”
A wave of pleasure exploded from your core through your entire body as you cried out her name in a mantra. Your legs shook with fury.
But even as you orgasmed wildly, Wanda’s eyes trailed to your nipples watching as more of that sweet liquid left. 
When you finally stopped shaking, Wanda flicked her wrist, removing the restraints from your arms and legs and the tubes from your breasts, allowing you to collapse completely on the bed. You were too tired to move, to even process what was going on around you. 
Wanda’s fingers that tapped your cheek forces your eyes to open slightly. “You did wonderful, my love.” She smirked. In her hand you could see a glass filled three quarts of the way with white liquid. 
She began chugging the liquid, making sure to maintain eye contact with you, and you watched as she eagerly drank up every last drop. 
“Delicious…” Leaning down, she pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead all before she bean dipped you which caused you to yelp. “Rest, my love. I expect more for dinner.”
__________
Thanks for reading! This was not proofread at all so excuse me for the errors and if this doesn't make sense in the morning. i was drunk writing this
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⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾
「 ✦ Steve Rogers ✦ 」
╰┈➤ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all steve rogers stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!)
╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮
: ̗̀➛ code blue by @bonky-n-steeb
✮ Steve is angry on you for behaving recklessly and you decide to let him take his anger out on you in a very unprofessional way...
: ̗̀➛ oh captain my captain by @starryevermore
✮chris knows how much you enjoy captain america, so he makes sure you live out all of your fantasies. (chris evans pretending to be steve rogers)
: ̗̀➛ it’s you that i lie with by @lipstickbisous
✮pt 1- steve rogers realizes that his love for you is unparalleled, but when he chooses to return to you by the lake, he receives a certain visit from the time variance authority
: ̗̀➛ mr. perfectly fine by @sparkleofpizza
✮Hello, Mr. perfectly fine, how’s your heart after breaking mine?” - Taylor Swift (Mr. Perfectly Fine)
: ̗̀➛ @espinosaurusrexex
☾ forever, of course
✮Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.
☾ watchful eyes
✮When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.
: ̗̀➛ something new by @buckyownsmylife
✮The one where Steve moved onto another woman’s arms after the blip, but now that you’re back…
: ̗̀➛ back to you by @literaryavenger
✮You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted.
: ̗̀➛ hideout by @ronearoundblindly
✮Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.
: ̗̀➛ he’s just not into you by @sergeantbarnessdoll
✮Steve isn’t into Sharon, but he’s in Y/N.
•masterlist
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
last updated march 17, 2024
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faithshouseofchaos · 17 hours
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Not a request lol but I guess you can use it as one-
just found out Bucky Barnes and I share the same birthday 👀
-🍓
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Shared birthdays — Bucky Barnes x reader
Happy late birthday
Tagged - @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @clowngirlsstuff @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @formulas-bitch @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @hrts4scarr @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @kimiracing07 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @norrisleclercf1 @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @vivwritesfics @starkwlkr @scotlynaurora @taylorswifts-cardigan
If there was one thing Bucky hated, it was celebrating his birthday. To him his birthday was a reminder that everyone but Steve was gone and he would never see them again. So when he noticed Starks employees decorating the common area with happy birthday decorations he panicked and ducked into the first room he saw.
“Bucky, what are you doing in here?” You asked as he ran to hide in your room.
“Party decorations” he said
“Party decorations?” You asked confused
“I told Steve I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday and they're still putting up decorations,” Bucky said.
"Why don't you want to celebrate your birthday?" you asked trying to figure out what the deeper reason was for the fact that he didn't want to celebrate his birthday. Because you never knew him to be the type that hated his birthday even before his life changed and the fact that he told Steve that he didn't want to celebrate his birthday could mean he was hiding something that no one else even Steve knew.
"It...it brings up too many memories" he finally said after a few moments of silence. You know Bucky rarely ever talks about his past so you know that for him to admit something even as small as this there must be a bigger reason to it then just it bringing up old memories.
"The old memories of what?" you asked hoping that this would be the conversation that finally makes Bucky open up about his dark past but also afraid of what the answer could be as well at the same time.
"Memories of things that I don't like to recall and would much rather forget about" he replied his voice low and strained. And knowing that there wasn't much else you could do here to get an answer you stopped questioning and the two of you sat in silence for a moment before you spoke again.
"Is there anything I can do for you right now to make you feel comfortable?" you asked knowing that even though you don't know exactly what it is that happened to Bucky you still want to try and help in whatever way you can to ease his pain as much as possible.
"Just don't make me go out there and celebrate my birthday right now that's all I ask" he replies after a pause. He knows that your trying to ease his pain even if he isn't very good at showing it right now so he appreciates the gesture.
"Alright, I won't force you to do anything that you don't want to do." you promise "Just please don't stay in here all day. You need to at least try and go out with everyone for a little while before the party starts" you request wanting to at least try and bring him out of his shell even if its a little.
“After all it is also my birthday” you added you a smile
"I guess that's a good reason to at least try and come out for a little bit." he agreed "Can we make it a very short trip? I don't plan on staying there all night I just need to see everyone and thank them for the decorations and maybe have a slice of cake before making a beeline for the exit" Bucky said as he finally relaxed some and cracked a smile back at you not as bright as you would have liked it to be but still a smile which was better than you thought you would get.
"Alright a short trip it is. But try and stay for a little bit longer than that." you say with a laugh "Even I know that you're not the type to go out and stay out until all hours of the night but I would like for you to at least have a bit of fun during this whole thing" you request.
"I'll see what I can do but I'm not promising anything more than the initial greeting to everyone" Bucky said trying his best not to seem as harsh as he had earlier "and for the record I'm only agreeing to do this because it's also your birthday" he said with another smile that was a little more genuine than before.
"Well, I'll take what I can get from you. But we both know that your gonna cave and end up staying for at least an hour." you said confidently knowing that he is far too caring to leave you alone on your birthday even if he acts all tough.
"Alright fine" Bucky said with another smile as he got up off the bed and made his way towards the door "Just don't make me take pictures or I'm out of here" he joked before walking out of the room closing the door after him.
You sighed and smiled at what was a very small but still a very much welcomed step in the right direction for Bucky knowing that it was probably all he was going to get from him today but still feeling happy that he had agreed to at least come out for a short bit and get his greetings and everything done. Hopefully though in time you can help him open up more but for now you just need to take the little things and enjoy them before trying to push him to go further.
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prismuffin · 1 day
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A/n: Sorry this is a bit specific- I wanted to write smth for myself that I personally relate to and am dealing with. Made the reader gn so anyone at all can read this if they also relate!
Normal
Steven Grant x asexual(spectrum)!gn!reader
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( summary: Steven and you had been together for a few months and he always wondered why you often pulled away from him whenever he tried to get explicitly touchy with you during intimate moments so he decides to ask ) warnings?: angst, pre-established relationship, talks of sex (no actual sex), reader is specifically portrayed to be both placiosexual (meaning they have no problem sexually pleasuring their partner but don't want their partner pleasing them) and cupiosexual ( meaning that the person often wants to experience a sexual relationship but can't for whatever reason) , reader being confronted about their sexual orientation, reader not being completely ok with their sexual orientation! !-!more under the cut!-!
You and Steven had been together for a few months now and everything had been perfect. You knew about Marc, accepted his flaws and quirks, were kind and loving, you were everything he'd needed.
Not too long ago he'd decided to ask you to get a little more intimate, it was clear that you were previously waiting on him to be ready which he appreciated. When the night finally came where you two were intimate it was a bit more one-sided than Steven had thought. It's not like he wasn't satisfied or anything, quite the opposite actually. You'd focused all your attention on him, making him feel good and completely disregarding your own satisfaction. He at first thought it was because it was your first time but now after being intimate with you for a while he realizes how uncomfortable you get with him when he tries to reciprocate any sort of intimate action towards you. Sure things like little love-bites are accepted by you but anything past that you shut down for the most part. It's gotten to a point where he wonders if its just him that you don't want to be intimate with, but the way you treat him, please him contradicts that entirely. So as you sat on the couch in your newly shared apartment he couldn't help but wanna ask.
"Y/n...?"
You hummed as you turned away from the random cooking show that played on the TV to focus on Steven. "Yeah?" You watched Stevens eyes fill with hesitancy as he looked at you. "Uhh, I just- I have a bit of a question.." He stated, speaking a bit quieter as he eyed you cautiously. You nodded, grabbing the remote and turning down the TV. This was obviously important if he's acting this nervous so you decided to give him your full attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?" You turned a bit so that you'd be facing him fully. "Not really, I've just been wondering about something for a while," He fidgeted with his hands before continuing. "I mean, we've been intimate for some time and I love it, I really do, but how come you never really let me..." He trailed off, gesturing between you and him a bit. "Let you...?" You questioned, you had a hunch where this was going but thought it'd be better if he clarified before you jumped to conclusions. "Let me touch you..." Your heart dropped a bit at the question, yup it was what you thought. You suppose that this was gonna come up sooner or later.
You usually only performed oral or manual sex on Steven, never really fully going all the way for your own comfort but you guess it can seem a bit weird after a while to perform only those things. "I...uh..." You hesitated, unsure of just how to go about answering this. You knew you were on the ace spectrum, placiosexual to be specific, but still there was something inside you yearning for a sexual relationship and though you technically have one you want to really feel it. But the thought of letting that happen sickens you. It's been an ongoing battle in your mind for years, you hope you'll eventually "grow out of it" but you haven't had many opportunities to try, anytime you do something in your mind just shuts the whole thing down. "I-I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me- it's ok you don't have to answer-" Steven stuttered out but you were quick to dismiss his worries. "It's fine, it just caught me a bit off guard ya know?" You chuckled dryly, nervously as you swallowed thickly and sighed. "It's uhhh, I'm sorry I'm just a bit...asexual..." Stevens eyes widened at the confession as he inhaled sharply. "Oh bloody hell- I didn't like make you do those things right?"
"No- Steven it's fine I was fine with all of that I swear." You smiled though your eyes held a bit of sadness to them.
"Are you sure? Don't asexuals not like to perform sexual acts like that?" He asked and you nodded. "Some don't sure, but asexuality is a spectrum Steven, I'm not completely uncomfortable with the idea of sex its just uhh it's a bit hard for me to receive any sexual favors." He nodded slowly as he took in your words, not entirely sure on how to respond. "So, how much are you comfortable with?" You hummed at the question, for some reason it made you want to cry though you bit back the thought before anything could show. "Well I'm Placiosexual, which means I'm completely fine with doing sexual acts on my partner, you." He smiled, grabbing your hand as you continued. "But when it comes to receiving those same acts from others I get a bit uncomfortable.." You looked down and he nodded, moving his head lower to catch your eye again. "What's wrong?" "It's nothing I-" "I accept you ya know? This isn't gonna change anything between us I swear." You were silent for a few seconds after that, you'd expect nothing less from Steven but that wasn't entirely the problem. "I know that." "Then what is it?" He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and you sighed, not being able to hold yourself back from tearing up a bit. "I just- Sometimes I really envy you." "Envy me?" "Yeah, you can just be ok with stuff that makes me extremely uncomfortable at times." You paused, trying to decide how you wanted to word this to get your point across. "I don't want to be this way all the time, I want to feel comfortable in those moments, to connect with someone like that but I just can't and I've always hated myself for it." You couldn't help the tear that escaped your eye, deciding to just let it fall. "I just wish I was...normal,"
"You are normal." Steven was quick to shut down your negative thoughts.
Looking at him directly you were shocked to see him tearing up a bit. "Steven..." "You're completely normal Y/n, nothings wrong with you, you just have a harder time getting comfortable with those things and that's ok, everyone's different love," "But I don't want to be different!" You choked out, more tears streaming down your face at the confession and he paused. Moving closer to you, he grabbed your face in his hands using his thumbs to wipe your tears as you shut your eyes. Leaning in he softly placed a kiss to your nose before sighing. "Who you are is completely okay love, and if you really want to we can try and take things slow for you alright? But you can't be mad at yourself for feeling the way you feel about something as futile as this." You sniffled, slowly opening your eyes though not looking at him directly. "What you do for me is enough already, I don't need to have sex with you to love you." That seemed to really hit you as you started crying again, moving to hug Steven. He stroked your back as you cried, whispering comforting words to calm your ragged breathing as you held back sobs. "I just don't wanna feel this way forever." You mumbled and Steven hummed, pulling back from the hug to look at you. You tried to wipe your tears but Steven had beat you to it. The small amount of affection making you smile briefly before you sighed. "Like I said before if you really want to try and change it we can take it slow," "I-I don't really know, I mean I want to try but I don't because I know I'll just feel disappointed." Steven offered you a smile as he continued to caress your face, ready to wipe away any stray tears that still fell. "Then we won't. Not unless you're 100% sure you want to try. And even if that day never comes it'll be alright." You were quiet as you took in his words.
Part of you hoped that one day randomly you'd just start to feel ok with it all but you know that's most likely never going to happen. But with Stevens words on your mind you feel a little less bad for feeling this way. Maybe you're not some weirdo after all, maybe you are just a normal person. Even if you never change the way you feel, Steven will still love you and at the end of the day isn't that all you really need?
----!----
( This was once again quite personal to me so I'm sorry that it's like so specific but I needed some comfort so I decided to make my own comfort fic LMFAO )
Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!
My requests are CLOSED !!
See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!
Masterlist
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aphrcdites · 7 months
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the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object
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amphibiahawks321 · 2 days
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M!Reader : .....
M!Reader : Gwen excuse my words but
[Reveal Y/N and Gwen on top of a tall building]
M!Reader : ARE YOU CRAZY!
Gwen : What? Sounds fun!
M!Reader : Gwen you want me to be carried by you while you Swing from buildings to buildings! How is that not crazy!
Gwen : Spidey sense remember?
Gwen : Also I have enchanted strength y'know? Holding you is basically like holding a couple of grapes ^v^
M!Reader : .....
[Y/N's breath in and breath out]
M!Reader : fine.... But if I somehow fall down I'm not giving you my action figure!
Gwen : Bet!
20 MINUTES LATER
Gwen : Woah! was that fun or what!
[Y/N still being carried by her with his arms wrapped around her neck]
M!Reader : .....
M!Reader : Okay that was actually fun-
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gutsby · 3 months
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Wedded Bliss
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.
Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.
Part 2 | Part 3
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You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.
You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.
Frankly, you were mortified.
And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”
Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.
You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,
“Put it down.”
You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.
Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.
“Are we done?”
Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.
You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.
“Now darling—” he started.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Light of my life—”
“I’ll kill you.”
Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.
Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.
Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.
His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.
“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”
You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.
“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.
“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”
You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,
“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better half of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”
That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.
“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.
“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”
You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.
At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.
“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.
A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.
“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”
It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.
Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.
“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.
At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.
Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.
Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.
The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.
“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.
“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.
“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”
Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.
“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.
You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’
No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.
What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.
“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”
Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.
“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”
“I don’t fuck strangers.”
Bucky smiled at that.
“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.
Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.
“You like skylines?” he asked.
You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.
“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.
Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.
You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.
“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.
Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.
Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.
“James,” you hissed.
Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.
“Yes, dear?”
“Why are you undressing me?”
Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.
“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.
The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.
“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”
You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?
“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”
Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.
The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.
You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.
“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”
You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.
“James!”
Again with that name.
“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”
Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.
“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.
You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.
“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.
Like he’d read your mind.
In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.
“Just let it happen, honey.”
He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.
Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.
Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:
“N-no, Bucky.”
To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.
He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.
“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.
“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”
The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.
Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.
A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.
“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.
His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.
You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.
“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”
His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.
He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.
Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.
And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.
When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.
Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.
He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.
Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.
Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.
“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.
You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.
Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.
“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”
In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.
Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?
It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.
You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.
“Open the fucking door!”
He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.
Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.
One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.
You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.
Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—
“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.
You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.
“What are you doing?!” he roared.
You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.
He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.
“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”
No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.
The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.
“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.
“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:
Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!
Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.
“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.
Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.
“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.
He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.
“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”
That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.
“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”
His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.
You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.
The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.
“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.
“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.
Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.
This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.
Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.
“I’ve never had sex before.”
At last, the tie loosened a little.
Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.
“What?”
You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.
“You’re a virgin?”
You nodded.
“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”
“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”
He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.
“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.
As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.
You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.
You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.
Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.
Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.
He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:
“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”
Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.
“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.
“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.
For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.
While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.
How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.
Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.
Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.
Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.
Any minute now, he thought with some relief.
Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.
A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.
Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.
You barged in and froze.
“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.
Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.
Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.
Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.
He was only met with silence.
Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.
The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.
“James?”
Your voice almost pained.
A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”
Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.
Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.
“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.
Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.
“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”
If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.
Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.
Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.
“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.
Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.
You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.
You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.
“James.”
“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.
At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,
“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”
Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.
“Oh yeah?” he murmured.
You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.
“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.
You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.
You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.
His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.
Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.
“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.
“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.
“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.
Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.
A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.
He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.
Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.
No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.
“Are you sure it’ll fit?”
Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.
“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.
“Okay.”
Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.
You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.
Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.
Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.
His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?
When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.
Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.
You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.
Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.
Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.
Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.
You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.
Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?
Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.
Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.
Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.
You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.
He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.
“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”
He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.
You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.
“Keep going, I’m good.”
Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“N—”
“Don’t lie.”
You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.
“Aw hell.”
The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.
He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.
“I didn’t wanna interrup—”
“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”
“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”
Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.
“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”
Bucky eyed you incredulously.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.
You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.
“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.
“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”
It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.
The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.
When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.
“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”
He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.
When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.
The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?
Bucky paused. Swallowed.
The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.
“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.
Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.
“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.
This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.
Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.
“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.
“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.
He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.
“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.
You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.
“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.
Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.
“Doll, I’m so sorry.”
The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.
When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.
The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.
“Doing so good for me.”
“Stretching so nice for this cock.”
“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”
Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.
Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.
“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”
An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.
“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.
Your cheeks flushed.
“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”
‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.
“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.
You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.
“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”
You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.
“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”
Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.
“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”
You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.
“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.
Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.
Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.
“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.
“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.
“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.
“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”
Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.
Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.
You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.
“One more for me, honey.”
You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?
Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.
“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.
“Sure you can.”
Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.
His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,
“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”
With a command like that, how could you refuse?
You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.
Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.
But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.
It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.
The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.
“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.
You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.
“I love you.”
You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.
“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.
“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.
You would’ve liked to speak.
Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.
In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.
The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.
Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.
“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.
When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.
“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.
“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”
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