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navybrat817 · 2 months

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Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky 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. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 days

Text

just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always.

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing.

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side.

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow.

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking.

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips.

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.”

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late.

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you.

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you.

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit.

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep.

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed.

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form.

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut.

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed.

Barely an hour passed before you woke.

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain.

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath.

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times.

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug.

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you.

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.”

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.”

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door.

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine.

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer.

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back.

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.”

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips.

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen.

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks.

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features.

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly.

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin.

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone.

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core.

“To what, huh?”

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth.

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you.

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks.

“I want you to fuck me, please!”

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra.

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well.

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off.

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours.

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle.

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff.

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch.

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy.

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit.

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch.

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.”

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess.

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper.

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity.

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him.

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him.

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you.

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up.

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic.

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free.

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal.

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?”

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.”

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh.

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.”

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…”

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times.

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach.

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets.

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately.

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside.

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him.

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open.

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him.

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach.

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up.

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable.

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth.

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below.

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit.

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own.

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace.

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back.

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half.

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.”

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own.

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table.

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south.

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?”

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t-lostinworlds · 24 days

Text

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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purple-babygirl · 2 months

Text

don't call me daddy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,826

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is mean, a couple of insults, mistreatment of age regressed reader, crying, mentions of hot liquid getting on skin, crying, mentions of the r-word, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares

A/N: so this is an idea I've had for forever and I finally mustered up enough courage to share it with you guys. Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you have anything you'd like to suggest for the upcoming parts. I love you 💜

“This sounds stupid,” Bucky grumbled when Sam suggested the program.

“It's not stupid, Buck and it works!”

“If it worked for you doesn't mean it's gonna work for me, Sam. You have patience and it's in your nature to want to take care of people.”

“Says the one who looked out for Steve all his life!”

“Steve was one person and he was actually dumb, he wasn’t acting like he can't fucking feed himself!”

“They're not acting. They're age regressed.” Sam tried to remain calm.

“What does that even mean!”

“It means-”

“You know what? I don't care because I'm not doing it.” Bucky smiled before leaving Sam's house and going back to hide in his own.

But Sam was persistent. He was determined to get Bucky help that would actually help. So he suggested the program to Bucky's therapist and before Bucky could punch him, she was having him sign the contract.

“Sam, I don't wanna meet anyone. It's not gonna work anyway so let's just pick any of them.”

“They're not service dogs, Bucky!”

“Really? Because that's exactly what it sounds like they are to me.”

Sam glared at him, elbowing his side as a short lady with a kind smile approached them.

Bucky didn't pay her much attention. He didn't want to be here and he didn't care what she was reciting.

Only thing that caught his attention was when she asked him what age he would prefer so she could introduce him to a group of littles.

He was dreading this. It was stupid.

“…what are you looking for?” Bucky caught the end of her talk with Sam.

“I don't know, someone who can talk like they're not retarded,” he answered the lady rudely and she smiled in understanding when Sam apologized.

“They're not retarded. All of them are perfectly healthy and okay. They're age regressed,” she told Bucky and he rolled his eyes so hard he felt they might never return from the back of his head.

He hated those two words. Age regressed, what the fuck did that even mean?

“Maybe we can meet some of the littles who are not so young, like 6 year olds?” Sam suggested and she nodded, leading them to a building with long corridors and lots of doors.

Bucky could see adult women and men playing with dolls, sleeping with pacifiers and some of them even had other people feeding them.

What the hell was this place? Did they expect him to do that? With a person perfectly capable of handling his or her own self but chooses not to?! Was this the 21st century? Because he didn’t like it very much.

The lady led them inside her office and got a group of files out of some organized drawer. She'd barely laid them out on the table before Bucky was slamming his finger on one.

“We'll take this one,” he said, staring at the lady in disinterest.

“But you haven't even seen them,” Sam said between his teeth, kicking his leg under the table. He wished Bucky cared enough to do this right.

“I've seen enough. I pick this file and I wanna leave,” Bucky seethed back.

“This is Doll. She's one of the softest littles I've ever met and I think you've made a great choice, Mr. Barnes.”

“You call her Doll?”

“Yes, real names aren't revealed for the privacy of our littles unless they decide otherwise and she chose the name herself when she joined us.” The lady smiled kindly, making Bucky even madder.

“Whatever, let's get this over with. Tell her to come so we could leave.”

“Mr. Barnes, I have to admit your attitude towards this is very concerning and I fear I cannot risk the peace of our littles who confide in us to find them safe partners! Like I said she's one of the gentlest and I need to know you're going to treat her right before I even let you meet her!” The woman voiced her concerns and Bucky sighed.

He couldn't blow this now. He's come far enough with this whole process and if he went back to his therapist like that she was definitely going to get out her dreadful notebook.

He had to take this girl home tonight or else they would make him go through this same process over and over again.

“I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused, I guess.” Bucky scratched his beard.

“That's okay.” She smiled again, “most of our visitors are, but you can always ask.”

“Well- what is wrong with them?!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands in the air. Sam kicked him again and glared.

“What? She said I could ask!”

“It's okay,” she told Sam with a chuckle.

“Nothing is wrong with them. Them regressing in age is their way to cope and relieve anxiety or deal with other mental illnesses such as traumatic experiences, or even just stress. It's a freer, calmer state of mind for them to return to when it's no longer easy for them to be big.”

Her calm, kind manner while explaining this made Bucky even angrier inside. This wasn’t normal and they should all stop acting like it was.

“So they're supposed to be helping me with my issues but they're dealing with their own issues?”

Like he originally thought, this was stupid.

“Yes, it's a mutual helping program.” The lady confirmed.

“Oh. And what's this Doll's issue?”

“Doll reverts to age regression as a coping mechanism for her depression and PTSD. She's been doing great lately actually!”

“Is she suddenly gonna go grownup or-?” Bucky continued, involuntarily asking every question on his mind.

“No, like I said, Doll reverts to little space for the comfort and safety of it and while she can coax herself out of her headspace, she rarely ever chooses to.”

“But she can?”

“Yes. But I need to tell you, Mr. Barnes, that this is not why you're here.” She reminded, wanting to ensure the safety of self expression for the little one.

“I know.”

“I also need you to promise me to be a good caregiver for her. She's a sweet girl and I can guarantee she will be good for you.”

“I promise.” Bucky knew he was lying but he couldn’t care less about his honesty at the moment.

“And it’s never acceptable to make fun of her or try to force her into a more grownup headspace. That only makes it worse and her mind regresses further.”

“So what she becomes younger?!” he was trying so hard not to get frustrated, why make him!

“That's correct.” She nodded.

“How young?” Sam asked.

“The youngest she's ever been is 4.”

“Oh.” Great. Just great.

“She can still talk just fine,” she reassured them, knowing Bucky didn't want anyone who couldn't talk or seemed 'retarded'.

“Okay, good.” Bucky nodded, wanting to get out of the place as soon as possible.

“Would you like to meet Doll now or do you wanna take a look at the rest of the files?”

“I'll meet her.” Bucky stood up, hand already at the doorknob.

The meeting thing went relatively well and Bucky was surprised the girl wasn't intimidated by his frown or intense stare. She was mesmerized by the metal arm even.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he still thought this whole thing was dumb but he needed to convince his therapist and everyone that he was okay again so they'd leave him alone.

She didn’t ask him any questions or have any conditions. She just stared at him with wide, sparkly eyes.

A minute later he heard the girl whisper her agreement to the short lady.

Apparently, she was big enough to make the decision to leave with a strange man she didn't know but not enough to properly dress herself or sleep without a damn toy.

Bucky was relieved anyway; glad she was idiotic enough to choose him so he wouldn't have to meet with any other 'littles'. And she wasn't ugly to look at either.

The old lady had a word with her privately before she was packing a bag and they were on their way to Bucky’s place.

“Where do I stay, daddy?”

Bucky hasn’t said a word to her since they’d left the institution. He made her carry her bag from the car to the elevator and from the elevator inside the apartment. He wasn’t going to be nobody’s maid.

She was physically capable and that didn’t need a professional to see it.

“I don’t know, figure it out.” Bucky shrugged, kicking his shoes off by the door and stepping inside.

She followed his lead and neatly placed her shoes at the corner by the door as well.

“Where do you want me to stay, daddy?” she asked politely, wanting to make him comfortable, seeing he was the owner of the house.

He was making her a little nervous.

This wasn’t his energy back at the institution and she tried her best not to get scared.

“I don't want you. I never did,” Bucky told her the minute she sat on his couch, throwing his keys on the wooden coffee table, “We're just gonna pretend your presence here is changing something and then I'm gonna return you.”

I don't want you.

She's definitely heard that before.

Return her. Like she was some sort of item. She wasn't what he wanted and it cracked her trained-to-love heart.

“Yes, daddy,” she replied brokenly, tears threatening to spill over the rims of her eyes.

Nothing was worse than feeling unwanted.

“Don't call me that.” Bucky snapped.

“B-But you're my daddy.” She was seriously confused now. Why would he pick her if he didn’t want this?

“I'm not your anything and stop acting so small, you look grown up enough to me.”

Why did he take her home if he didn’t like her and didn’t want to be her Daddy?

“I'm not acting.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt more insecure than ever.

“Yeah, yeah, you're age regressed. Whatever, just don't call me that. I'm no one's daddy.” Bucky took his shirt off throwing it on the couch beside her, making her flinch.

“But what should I call you if not-”

“Call me Mr. Barnes, if you're so keen on being polite.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She sniffled.

“And stop crying.” He huffed.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly wiped at her face, holding the rest of her tears inside and forcing the lump in her throat further down.

Bucky muttered something under his breath before snatching his shirt and leaving to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as she flinched again.

He didn't say she was a good girl for calling him what he wanted, or for stopping her crying when she was told to. He didn't like her and he wanted to return her.

What was she supposed to do until he sent her back? He didn't want her help even if they said he needed it.

Was it going to be like this for the next 3 months? How was she going to do all of the grown up stuff if Daddy Mr. Barnes didn't help her? How was she going to live? And why did she still care to try her best to be good for the harsh, blue-eyed man?

She didn’t know what to do so she sloppily changed her clothes by herself, putting her socks in the hamper to be washed like a good girl.

She washed her hands and feet by herself, unknowingly making Bucky think he was right all along about letting her do things on her own as she should.

That was until he put a hot cup of instant noodles before her for dinner though. He refused to help her eat and she accidentally spilled hot soup over her hand and the wooden table. It was chaos.

Bucky cursed out loud and she started crying in pain.

He had enough pity on her to drag her to the bathroom and put her hand under the cold water. If his hold on her arm hurt, she didn’t say anything.

“Keep it there, don’t you dare move.”

“Mr. Barnes, don’t leave,” she sniffled, eyes red and in pain.

“I’m not leaving you in the Sahara desert.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “I gotta go clean the mess you made.” He left her in the bathroom and she kept her hand under the water, not daring to move like she was told.

“How hard is it to eat fucking noodles! It’s not quantum physics!”

Bucky muttered angrily as he wiped the soup off the table with a cloth.

“Fuck that age regression shit I am done!” he took their noodle cups to the kitchen and dumped both in the bin.

“What are you still doing in there! It’s not like you got burnt by lava!” Bucky shouted to her, walking to the bathroom.

“I- I- Mr. Barnes, you told me not to move.” She began crying again at his angry demeanor.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky groaned, “do you ever stop crying?!”

“I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped. She didn’t know what to say or how to please him she just wanted him to stop glaring at her. She was scared.

“Get out of there and dry your hands,” Bucky told her, sitting on the couch with a sigh.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Came her chocked whisper.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked when she came out of the bathroom, tears drying on her cheeks.

The question surprised her. Maybe he did care after all.

“Burns a little,” she told him, pointing to the back of her hand where the skin got burnt.

“I might have a cream here somewhere,” he said, trying his best to keep an unconcerned expression on.

She took a look around when Bucky stood up to look in the kitchen. It was a cozy place and she wasn’t too needy but she couldn’t help but wonder about where she was going to sleep.

There didn’t seem to be enough furniture in here.

“Try not to touch it and you should be fine in the morning,” Bucky instructed after applying the burns cream to the sensitive area of skin.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered before absentmindedly pecking Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her guts. He certainly didn’t see that coming. It was her first night here how was she so bold!

His breath stuttered out of his lungs but he quickly recomposed himself.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he gave her a dark stare.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“N-No.” She quickly shook her head.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“No.” She shook her head again, sort of knowing where this was going. She was going to get punished.

“Then why’d you do it?” Bucky sneered through his teeth.

“To th-thank Mr. Barnes.” He made her so nervous she could barely hear herself answer him.

Bucky hated her. She had no sense of boundaries. He hated the way she cried all the time. He hated the way she referred to him in third person.

He hated her.

“You already said that, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Don’t do it again.” Was all Bucky said and she was relieved.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky scoffed and stood up to put the cream back where he found it.

Turned out, Bucky had no bed. He slept on the floor and he didn’t need one.

“But where do I sleep, Mr. Barnes?” She asked in a small voice.

“Anywhere that is not next to me,” Bucky replied, not even sparing her a glance.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked, patting the couch.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She gave a shy smile.

“I didn’t make the damn couch. Just go to sleep.”

“Bad word again,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” She slammed a hand on her mouth.

“Repeat what you just said if you know what’s good for you.” Bucky glared.

“I- Mr. Barnes said a bad word,” she whispered shakily.

“Yeah, well, it’s my house! I’ll talk however I want!” Bucky raised his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She nodded, not even thinking about arguing that he shouldn’t curse in front of a little.

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly plopped on the couch, covering herself with a blanket, and burying her face in a cushion.

Bucky almost chuckled; almost thought it was cute but he shook the smile off his face quickly and sighed, taking his shirt off and getting himself on the hard floor, easily falling asleep.

He always falls asleep so fast because nightmares usually wake him up few hours after; he be waiting for bed time all day.

She peeked from under the blanket when she heard Bucky snore, carefully tiptoeing to her bag to get her stuffie. She took one look at shirtless Bucky, her cheeks heating up, before sliding back under the covers on the couch.

Her Daddy that didn’t like to be called Daddy was beautiful.

It has started again. He’s chasing a person, he corners them to where they could not run anymore, his left hand wraps around their throat, they struggle and beg and then snap. He kills them.

Bucky startled awake, having a hard time taking his breath only to find her on the floor next to him.

Her eyes were full of worry and maybe even sympathy as she clutched a stuffed animal. Bucky didn’t like it.

“It’s okay, Daddy- Mr. Barnes. ‘T was just a bad dream.” She whispered, dropping her stuffie to wrap her short arms around Bucky.

He wouldn’t admit it but it felt nice to be held. Something inside him wanted to succumb to the gentleness of her gesture. But Bucky shut that down at once.

“Get off,” Bucky huffed tiredly as the girl clung to him and rubbed his sweaty back.

“But-”

“Get. Off.” He repeated, grinding his teeth and she reluctantly slipped off his lap and went back to her spot on the floor.

She stared at him as he panted and frowned for a second before leaving the room.

Bucky scoffed, rubbing a hand down his hot face. She probably went to cry in the bathroom again; such a crybaby.

Except she didn’t.

She returned with a relatively cool glass of water, only half full. She didn't want to be bad and spill.

“I got you water, Mr. Barnes.” She carefully got on her knees and offered him the cup.

“Stop saying my name so much.” Bucky snatched the cup out of her hand, gulping down the water without showing an ounce of gratitude.

She pouted, crawling to her bag to get him tissues because she didn’t see any around.

“So you do know how to act around liquids after all.” Bucky taunted, still not over the fact that she spilled soup over his table before taking the tissues from her to wipe his forehead.

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby, Mr. Barnes? It helps me after bad dreams.” She suggested, desperately hoping he would let her help.

“Not all of us act like kids to flee our nightmares.”

“Mr. Barnes.” Her eyes filled with tears and it was the last thing Bucky wanted to deal with, “I’m not acting.”

She was hurt but he didn’t care. He said what he said.

“Get back on the couch, I wanna go to sleep.” Bucky dismissed, pushing the empty glass against the wall.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered dejectedly, taking her friend and crawling back to the couch.

The same thing happened every night for another four nights. At this point she was really worried about the man she started singing lullabies anyway, not waiting for his permission.

“Hey, you!”

“Doll,” she corrected.

“Whatever! Shut up already. I told you I don’t need your stupid singing.” Bucky growled into his pillow.

He was lying. He hated admitting it but he was. Her voice was actually angelic. He never went back to sleep again after a nightmare but that changed when she ignored his wishes and started singing. Bucky could drift off again to her soft voice.

He could get more hours of nightmareless sleep because of her lullabies. But he was too stubborn to admit anything that came from her was working for him.

It must be a coincidence. He probably fell asleep again because he was exhausted from being mad at her all day.

“I know Mr. Barnes doesn’t need it. It’s for me.” She lied as well. She knew lying wasn’t good girl like but she was helping Mr. Barnes; it was for good reason.

“Mr. Barnes,” her small voice called to him but Bucky was ignoring her.

He was pretending he couldn’t hear her and continued staring at the TV because she talked too much for his liking.

“Mr. Barnes.” She ever so lightly touched Bucky’s arm.

“What!” he spit suddenly, making her jump.

“We- We need to go shopping. Mrs. Morrison will visit tomorrow.”

She knew the process and for some reason didn’t want to be taken away from Bucky.

If Mrs. Morrison came and saw the way the apartment was or the way Bucky treated Doll, she was definitely going to make her leave with her.

“What?!”

“It’s day five.” She reminded, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah, so?” Bucky’s body fully turned to face her.

“It’s visit day. We have to go shopping.”

“How do I know you’re not lying just to get me to buy you things?”

“I don’t lie, Mr. Barnes.” She assured him, looking hurt at even the suggestion.

“It’s in the papers,” she told him, referring to the contract he’s signed as well as the guide he was provided with her file before leaving the institution.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, but stood up to look at the papers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer in the kitchen a few days ago.

“Shit,” he muttered when he saw she wasn’t lying. He heard her whisper bad word but chose to ignore it.

There were scheduled visits listed with different time intervals between each visit for the next three months.

Bucky groaned, throwing the paper sheet back in the drawer and slamming it shut.

“Put your clothes on, we’re going fucking shopping.”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t even-” she ran to the bathroom to change before Bucky could get angrier.

What has Sam gotten him into?

“Why’s your hair so messy!” Bucky asked, shoving her out of his way to grab a jar of peanut butter and put in the cart.

“I don’t know how to do it on my own an’ Mr. Barnes kept telling me to hurry up.”

Her voice was so small and if Bucky wasn’t so infuriated by the situation he would’ve felt bad for how he spoke to her.

“You’d think you’d actually look decent enough after taking forever to get ready.” Bucky huffed.

She remained silent, looking down and closing in on herself.

“Do you eat this?” Bucky asked, waving a box of corn flakes in front of her.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky nodded, throwing the box in the cart.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop saying my name so much?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barn-” Bucky’s cold stare stopped the word on her tongue.

“Call me Bucky.”

He didn’t want her to call him Bucky. But if that Mrs. Morrison was visiting tomorrow she couldn’t know he made her speak to him formally.

“Bucky?”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Bucky.” She smiled shyly, feeling one step closer to the man.

Bucky didn’t know his life would turn upside down so fast.

He never cared about grocery shopping because he didn’t need that much stuff and he mostly ate at restaurants or diners or bought take out. He mainly just had beer filling his fridge.

But with her tied to him now he was buying all kinds of food: fresh vegetables and fruits, juice boxes, snack bars and way too many Oreos. Not to mention the toiletries he had to pay for because aside from her tooth and hair brushes, she came with nothing.

“Bucky, can we please get this?” she asked, pointing to a stuffed white wolf.

“No, you already have one at home. I see it every night.”

“Please, Bucky, please. Pretty please,” she begged, giving puppy eyes and pressing her palms together even.

“Okay, fine, shut up. God!” Bucky grumpily put the toy in the cart and got them to the nearest cashier before she could pick anything else.

She was so happy and was going to cherish her new stuffie more than ever.

Bucky was pacing back and forth in the living room. He needed to find a way to convince her not to tell Mrs. Morrison or whatever her name was how he treated her.

He didn’t want her to know she had any type of power over him because of the situation.

Bucky definitely wasn’t going to say please, but he also knew he couldn’t scare her into saying what he wanted.

“Bucky, please go to bed. Wolfie can’t sleep.” She whined, hugging her newest stuffie to her heart.

Bucky gave her yet another hard glare. She made him so angry that sometimes he forgot how to function. She was so spoiled and oblivious.

“I won’t say anything to Mrs. Morrison,” she whispered.

“You think I care what you have to say?! They could take you right now for all I care!” Bucky replied angrily.

“I know…” she mumbled, “I don’t want them to.”

Her words left Bucky without a reply. He was confused. She didn’t want to leave? Why not? Bucky hasn’t said one kind word to her since she’s been entrusted to him.

Was she some type of masochist?

“I wanna stay with Bucky. Sing him lullabies and eat noodles with him,” she said, her voice soft and heavy with sleep, before her eyes shut as she drifted off.

Her words put Bucky at ease for now and he got on the floor to finally try to get some sleep. He tried to ignore the way they affected him though.

“Bucky,” she called gently.

“Hmm.”

“I need to shower,” came her timid whisper.

“Do you see me using the bathroom?! Help yourself.” Bucky huffed, stirring the sugar in his mug.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?!” he snapped, throwing the spoon in the sink.

“I need Bucky’s help.” Her face was on fire with embarrassment of having to say this out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing his mug aside before grabbing her arm and pushing her to the bathroom.

She whimpered as they stood before the glass door of the shower.

“This, because you’re not stupid you’re just age regressed, opens the hot water.” Bucky pointed to the tap handle on the right. “This opens the cold water. And this-”

“Bucky, that’s not what I need help with.” She shook her head, biting down on her lip.

“What do you want from me then?!” Bucky had no patience and her bashfulness wasn’t helping.

She raised her arms up before whispering, “I need Bucky to gimme a shower.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t start now! You don’t know how to shower?!”

She shook her head, pouting as her eyes got teary again, “not when little.”

“This is bullshit. I didn’t even wanna do this. Damn you, Sam Wilson!” Bucky said, walking out of the bathroom angrily as she trailed behind him like the lost puppy she was.

“Bad word.”

“Stop!” Bucky boomed and she put her hands behind her back timidly.

“Please, Bucky,” she begged, getting hold of his hand.

“No! On my dead body!”

“Stand straight or I swear I’m gonna leave you here and go!”

“Yes, Bucky,” she giggled, the water trickling down her spine tickling her.

“Now what?” he huffed, trying not to stare at her naked chest.

“Now, this.” She held up the bottle of conditioner for him and Bucky sighed before taking it and squeezing some on his hand.

He was about to smooth it down her scalp when she moved away.

“No, no! This goes on the ends or else it gives you dandruff,” She said and Bucky would’ve facepalmed so hard if it wasn’t for the slippery matter covering his palms.

This was going to be long.

She was fast asleep on Bucky’s couch after her shower, so peaceful and without a care in the world.

Bucky envied her as he got in place on the floor. He really wished he had enough flexibility in him to accept help and care from someone.

But no, he didn't need her. He didn't need any of this. He just had to go through tomorrow and the rest will figure itself out.

Yeah, yeah just tomorrow for now, Bucky thought as he drifted off.

part II

• Tag List:

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heavysoldat · 2 years

Text

lemonade

neighbor!bucky barnes x housewife!reader

devastated by the spreading talk of your husband’s affair, you’re desperate to find a way to get back at him— and who to do it with.

warnings: smut (cunnilingus, unprotected sex, dirty talk, manhandling, praise & light degradation, creampie, breeding) mutual cheating, insecurities, hints to abusive relationships

(highly inspired by this song)

“How is it?”

The incessant whirring of the washing machine is tunneling in your head, adding to the stress induced migraine you’ve already received. But the man in front of you is more than chipper, smiling as he takes in more of the pie you’ve prepared.

“Amazing.” James compliments, mouth full of cherries and crust.

You give him a smile; weak, barely breaching your smile lines- but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You just seemed hungry.” You muse. “Working outside all morning has gotta make you starved.”

“Well, I won’t turn down a fresh pie, that’s for sure.” He says, washing his mouth down with the lemonade you generously whipped up.

“Your husbands gonna be one happy man, comin’ home to this.” James wipes his face down with a patterned napkin, leaning back into the oakwood dining chair.

You stare ahead blankly, trying to push away the anxiety that’s eating into your stomach like termites— but nothing goes. You can’t explain what you’re feeling, what you’ve been hearing. The secret your husband has been keeping of his affair had no longer been kept, revealed to you by your best friend in town.

She told you about how she saw him, heard him with one of his female colleagues, noticed how much time they spend together daily. How often they both seem to be working late.

The pain you had felt had eaten at you rabidly. You spent days festering, barely able to clean the house without breaking down in sobs, thankful that your husband worked a nine to five and didn’t see the way he made you ache.

You couldn’t give him that. You wouldn’t.

“He’s working late today.” You say, smile deteriorating. “Probably won’t be home until I’m asleep. He’s not that big of a fan of my cooking, anyway.”

James’ eyebrows furrow, “Does he not have tastebuds? You’re a genius in the kitchen, I swear.”

That makes your cheeks heat up, adding to the warmth of the summer weather. “Well, thank you, James.”

“Friends call me Bucky.” He winks, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Bucky it is.” You say.

Bucky is a well-dressed, hard working man from across the street, always tending to his yard or making the exterior of his house fresh. You had always found him attractive. From the day he moved in a few months back he had been in the back of your mind, swirling.

You kept pushing it back, determined to be a faithful doting wife— but it seems that ideal was one-sided.

That gave you an excuse, and excuse to make your vaulted desires come forward. You won’t let your husband see you suffer, but you will let him see you thrive.

You even put on your nicest dress.

“You don’t work?” Bucky asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, no.” You say, “I’m a homemaker.”

“You should be a chef.” He jokes, picking at his plate with a fork.

You giggle, “I don’t have the time.”

“Eh, well,” He says, cleaning off the rest of his dish, “Guess I’ll have to be your pie test subject, then.”

That makes you smile, but more genuine- a spread of butterflies flowing inside your stomach.

You stand up to grab his plate, picking it up and carrying it to the sink to wash.

“Oh, I would’ve gotten that.” Bucky says, sitting up.

“No, no, it’s fine!” You say. “You’ve been working. I got it.”

You bend down to get dish soap, making a show of letting your dress skirt ride up to air your white, lace panties. You linger for just a second too long, before coming back up and actually washing his plate.

As you head back, you wipe off your skirt, dusting off anything that had gotten on it. You don’t miss the way he stares at your thighs, nor the way his eyes drift to your chest as you lean forward.

“I should probably go. Gotta lot to work on.”

As he stands, you grasp his arm, stopping him. “So soon? I could make you some more lemonade.”

You watch as he eyes your hand on his arm, thumbing his flannel with rubbed circles, then gazing back at you.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m pretty behind. I’ll definitely be back, sweets.”

You smile, reaching to paw at his other arm. “I like your company. It gets lonely here, without my husband… having you around is nice.”

“I’m glad.” Bucky says, staring down at you. “I like your company, too, doll.”

You bite down on your lip, playing at the strings of his flannel. “Then why don’t you stay? Just for a little while longer?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, taking a long, considerate pause.

“If I didn’t know any better-“ He notes, speaking slowly, “I’d say you had ulterior motives for invitin’ me over.”

You give him your best doe-eyed look, letting him sit in the silence.

Of course you did. You got up early, dawned on your nicest matching lingerie set and prettiest dress- just to bake a pie and lemonade for him. It’s pathetic, it’s desperate, but you haven’t felt this giddy since you first started dating your husband.

Bucky’s eyes widen just enough to expose the whites of it. He doesn’t know what to say, really, eyes flickering from to every point he can, debating every option that’s being presented to him on fucking porcelain.

“Your husband…” He trails.

“He’s not here.” You note. “He won’t be for a while. I told you he’s working late.”

“Doll…”

“Yeah?”

“What are you playin’ at here, exactly?”

You contemplate what to say, how to say it. You’re unsure if it’s even a good idea, if you’re more motivated by revenge or desire— but both are clouding your head.

“I want you to fuck me like he never could.”

Bucky can’t help the way his mouth opens. He can feel his cock throb in his jeans, already half hard since he saw you in that godforsaken dress. You’re like the devil.

“I don’t wanna be the guy who ruins a marriage.” He objects, despite his own desires.

“Trust me,” Your hand rises up to grip his face, “It’s already been ruined.”

Bucky’s hands move almost against his will. Sliding down your back, hovering over your ass under your dress, his breathing shaky.

“He doesn’t fuck you right? That it?”

“He doesn’t fuck me at all, cause he’s too busy fucking another woman.”

That settles it for him.

His mouth practically swallows yours, hands grabbing your ass with force while his tongue invades your mouth. You can do nothing but moan, whining into his throat as you hold onto him.

He turns, picking you up and placing you on the kitchen table. You clatter against silverware, but he pushes them off before they stab into your skin- letting them clammer onto the tiled floor.

He moves to press open mouth kisses on your neck, already pulling the cups of your dress down, followed by your bra to reveal your breasts. He wraps a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking as he massages the other one, reveling in the way you moan above him.

Bucky’s pushing up your skirt, pressing kisses down your stomach and your legs. He mouths around your inner thighs, teasing to where you need him most.

“Please,” You pant, pinching at your own nipples.

Bucky sliiiiides your panties down your legs, letting them fall to the ground beneath you. He lets out a grunt at the sight of your pussy, glistening and wet. Just for him.

“Your husband make you this wet?”

“Mm-mm,” You hum, “Never.”

That makes him grin. A shit-eating, cocky, son-of-a-bitch grin, but god, is it sexy.

He presses kisses to your mound, before licking a broad stripe up your folds. That has you moaning, legs squirming- but he’s quick to hold you back down.

You’re gasping while he sucks around your clit, fingers catching in your wet hole and sliding in and out. He’s moaning at your taste, sending vibrations against your clit that have you reeling.

He’s practically buried himself inside your cunt, devouring you like cherry pie. His mouth moves to suck down, before his tongue slides into your hole, his fingers replacing his tongues previous placement at your clit.

“I’m- I’m close,” You whine, pulling at his dark hair.

You feel his movements get faster, urging you to teeter off that edge. The high he’s building is unlike one you’ve felt— it’s cold, lighting inside your legs and stomach, building up so tight you can feel it about to snap.

And when it finally does, Bucky has to hold you still. He’s moaning with you, letting you ride out your orgasm by using his face.

When you come down, you’re panting, watching as he comes back up with a glistening mouth. He wipes off the sides, sucking around his fingers to get the last of your taste.

You reach out for him, which he gladly accepts. He brings you in for another kiss, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Mhm,” You moan, legs still tingling with a post-orgasmic haze.

“Say it, honey.” Bucky grunts, pulling down his boxers and stroking at his cock. You whimper at the sight— it’s thick, bigger than your husband’s, tip practically weeping.

“I need you to fuck me, please, I want it so fucking bad.” You beg, watching as he slides the head of his cock around your folds. “Please.”

Bucky’s cock catches in your hole, sliding into your wet heat with ease. You both whine at the feeling of him bottoming out, pressing kisses around every piece of skin on the other you can reach.

“Fuck,” He moans. “So fuckin’ tight, honey— he really doesn’t fuck ya, does he? This was all you needed, a good fuck, someone to make you cum hard, treat ya like the little slut you are. Well I’m here, honey, and I’m fuckin’- shit, I’m not leaving.”

He starts to fuck into you, balls slapping against your ass with the furious pace he’s already set. He’s grunting, groaning at the feeling of your warm cunt, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Yeah,” You moan, whining at the feeling of him using your pussy, “Fuck, just like that, please!”

“Yeah? You like that?” He moans, “Like me fuckin’ using your pussy?”

You can’t reply- too fucked out. You just moan, mumbling incoherently, pussy clenching around his moving length.

Bucky slaps at one of your tits; making you yelp, but then he sucks the nipple into his mouth with a groan. You tug at his hair, reveling in how it makes him borderline whimper.

You rub circles around your clit, desperate to get off, despite already coming so recently. He grunts at the sight, pulling off your nipple with a pop—

“Fuck, you gonna cum again?” Bucky groans, grabbing your hips to fuck into you harder, “It feels that good? Fuck, Wanna see you cream on my cock, be a good girl. C’mon.”

Another orgasm washes over you. It’s not as intense as the first one, but still leg twitching, making you curl into yourself.

“Oh god, that’s fuckin’ it,” Bucky groans, gasping, “Feels so good, baby, you have no idea.”

You whine in overstimulation as he keeps fucking you, whimpering when he reaches down to start rubbing your clit again.

“Need you to give me one more.”

“I can’t,” You whine.

“You can.” He rasps, “You fuckin’ will. Be a good girl, doll, gimme one more. Fuck, I need it.”

You’re clawing at his back, wetness practically drenching his cock. You know you’re leaving scratch marks, probably even drawing blood- but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it spurs him on.

“I’m coming,” You whine, “Oh god, I can’t-“

Your third orgasm rips through you sharper than the others, leaving you trembling under his hold. All you can hear his harsh groans and grunts, praising you for how good you did for him.

“Shit,” Bucky grunts, sweat dripping down his face, “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him in closer and locking him inside.

“Fuck, honey-“ He stutters, “I gotta pull out, I can’t- you gotta let go, I can’t pull out.”

You shake your head, whining, “Cum in me, please.”

That makes him whine. “You want me to come in you? Fill up that slutty pussy?”

You nod rapidly, clenching your legs around him tighter. You can tell he’s close by how his thrusts stutter, cock throbbing inside your cunt.

“Your husbands gonna come home today, not knowing his pretty little wife has a pussy full of another man’s cum,” Bucky taunts, “But you love that, don’t you?”

“Yeah- yes, I love it.” You moan, grabbing onto him.

“Oh god- beg me for it.”

“Please cum inside me.”

“Fuck, you can do better than that,”

“Please!” You shout, “Cum inside me, I want it- I want it so fucking bad. I need you to fill up my pussy, please, Bucky.”

With one last, loud, bellowing groan, he stills above you, pumping you full of every last drop he has. He almost fully collapses, both of you left panting and spent.

After a moment, he stands up, wiping the sweat off his forehead before helping you correct your clothing malfunctions.

“Hey, uh,” Bucky says, pushing your hair back out of your face. “You ever make another pie that needs testing, you know where to find me.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #my writing #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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duuhrayliegh · 6 days

Text

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

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idy-ll-ique · 1 year

Text

mr grumpy man

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: smut, mentions of abuse and wounds, adultery

requested: nope

word count: ~4.3k

summary: bucky kidnaps y/n because her husband owes him money. what happens when he finds out her husband is abusive?

author's note: hi guys! i crossed 1450 followers today, plus my masterlist is about to reach 1000 notes, and ngl i'm kinda excited for that, so i wanted to post. i have been writing fanfiction even though i stopped posting weekly (it's a great stress reliever). so yeah... enjoy! (also lmk if you want me to write and post a part 2, since the ending to this imo feels kind of incomplete) also ik i am reusing names but go with it, it's difficult to come up with names :(

masterlist

The sound of her gasp echoed around the garage as the blindfold was lifted off her eyes. Y/N blinked in the dim light, her hand trying to reach up to soothe her aching head, but— She struggled to free her tied hands, to no avail. Finally collapsing against the chair, she looked around the room as her eyes adjusted to the lights. Or the lack thereof.

A bunch of men stood ahead of her. In the centre was a tall, brunet man, his blue eyes glistening with… mirth. He seemed happy, even though his face didn’t betray an emotion. “S-Sir… Who…” Y/N choked out, thanking the Gods that her mouth was still usable. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re awake,” the man crooned, walking up to her. She peered up at him, a little scared and a lot confused.

Bucky blinked at her. Why… Why was she looking at him like that? There wasn’t an ounce of fear he could see on her face, just— perplexion. “Mrs Silverstein,” he began. “Yeah?” He internally heaved a sigh of relief. At least he had the right person. But then why wasn’t she scared? Surely, being married to a mob boss meant she knew the danger mob bosses posed. “I’m James Barnes.” Y/N cocked her head to the side. “M-Mr Barnes, have you— kidnapped me?”

“If you know that, why aren’t you scared?!” Bucky burst out impatiently. This woman was starting to get on his nerves with her nonchalance. “...ooh, ah, save me…” Y/N mumbled a couple seconds later, pursing her lips to keep herself from smiling. She never thought she would be, but here she was now! Kidnapped! Meaning, away from her husband! Bucky growled in annoyance. “Are you fucking mocking me or something?”

She hurriedly shook her head, lowering it in shame. “Sorry.” He huffed. “Your husband—” Y/N nearly flinched at the mention. “—has stolen a huge sum of money from me. So now, my dear, you’re going to live with me until he returns the money.” Bucky wasn’t a monster. As annoyed as the woman was making him, he had no intentions of hurting her. He simply wanted to lure Edmund, her husband, to him by using Y/N as bait.

“Wait, seriously?” Y/N realised she might have come off a little excited because Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, his men exchanging glances in shock. “You’re— happy about that?” Bucky asked, bewildered. “No I’m not,” she muttered, clearly lying. Bucky shook his head, deciding to let it go. Surely she was so… scared and traumatised that she was acting bizarrely. It had to be that. “Okay… um, untie her, I’m taking her to her room.”

Two of his men stepped forward and untied her hands and legs. Bucky expected her to kick and scream upon being untied but instead, she simply stood up, dusting her clothes. “My room, sir?” Bucky stammered incoherently. “Uh, sure,” he ended up mumbling, leading her into the mansion whose garage they were in. He kept alert; maybe once away from the guards she would act up. “Intelligent,” he thought.

But even when they were away from all the guards, just the two of them, Y/N kept demurely following him, looking up at the mansion. “Wow,” she whistled, “This is your house? It’s pretty solid, dude.” Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. “Okay, what stupid fucking game are you playing with me right now?! You really think I’m that dumb, Mrs Silverstein? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?! Playing nice until you get a chance to run back to your husband?!”

This time, she did end up flinching at Edmund’s mention. Bucky noticed and paused, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “I don’t— I’m not playing any games. Look—” She rummaged through all her clothing. “I don’t have any weapons on me and plus my hands are recovering from injuries, so I’m not even strong enough to kill someone like you. Have you looked at yourself? You think I will be able to hurt you?” Bucky released a breath.

An awkward silence fell between them. “What are your hands recovering from?” he finally ended up asking as they commenced their walk. “Broke my bones in both hands, just a little accident, heh,” Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. A few more minutes passed. He glanced at her. She was looking at the decoration around the house, lips pursed, as if she was about to burst into tears.

And without thinking, he asked the one question a kidnapper never asks their victim.

“Are you okay?”

A teardrop leaked down Y/N’s eye and she hurriedly wiped it off, clearing her throat. “Yeah.” What the fuck was her deal? They soon stopped outside a bedroom; Bucky opened the door, revealing— “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen!” Y/N gasped, awed. The colour scheme was pretty, there was an attached bathroom and also a balcony! "This makes my architect heart really happy."

"You're an architect?" Bucky couldn't help but ask again. "I was, before I got married. Edmund didn't like that I worked, he then started keeping me at home," she revealed. Bucky found himself getting annoyed again but this time not by Y/N, by Edmund. "Well, uh, you've seen everything. Spare clothes are in the wardrobe, um, the shower has clean water if you want to clean up… there's facewash and body wash in the bathroom and also toothpaste and a toothbrush."

"Aren't you, like, my kidnapper? Why such nice treatment?" Y/N wondered. "I have no personal vendetta against you, I'm after your husband. And I'm using you as bait. So don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. That's how my mob functions." A smile bloomed on her face. "That's a nice way to function. Uh, I'll see you then, Mr Barnes." Bucky licked his dry lips. "Yeah, s-see you."

He left her room, closing the door behind him. But he simply stood there, his thoughts racing. The way she wasn't upset that she was kidnapped, the way she flinched earlier when he mentioned her husband, and how sad she looked when she told him her husband didn't allow her to work after they got married. All the proof was there— She disliked him. Y/N disliked Edmund. But was there more to it?

Was she only upset about her job, or maybe something more? Bucky shook his head, heading to his own room. Now that he knew, her previous behaviour didn't seem so… annoying anymore.

The next morning, Bucky woke up with Y/N on his mind. Immediately upon getting out of bed, he rushed to Y/N's room, pausing before knocking. When she didn't open the door, his nose scrunched and he pushed the door open, freezing when he saw her naked in the middle of the room, a pair of his shorts in her hands. The spare clothes he'd given her. Y/N froze as well, the water from her wet hair dripping on the floor. She had just finished taking a shower. 5 uncomfortable minutes later, both of them snapped out of it.

Bucky was staring at her body. "My men didn't raise a finger on you," he whispered as she hurriedly covered herself with her towel. "Mr Barnes—" He entered the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he closed the distance between them. "I told them not to. Then what is this?" Her body was covered in scars big and small, and also healing bruises. Some that looked an angry red, some black and blue, while the almost healed ones looked yellow-green.

Her arms, her legs, her torso… except her face. Every body part was injured. "Y-Your men didn't do it," Y/N quietly assured him, avoiding eye contact. Bucky's chest heaved with anger. "Then who?" Y/N gulped in fear. "E-Edmund did." Bucky was hoping it wouldn't be the answer. "I fucking knew it," he growled, "I suspected it last night—" He stopped when Y/N touched his arm. "L-Let me get ready?" He left the room on her insistence.

Blood boiling, he stormed into the dining room, startling the housekeeping staff as he sat on a chair, glaring at the innocent table in front of him. He didn't think Edmund would be able to anger him more than when he stole Bucky’s money but apparently knowing that he abused his wife too did the trick. Maybe it was the way Edmund’s behaviour reminded him of his own father— that was a can of worms for another day.

He turned towards the door when he heard footsteps behind him. Y/N had just walked in, wearing a grey t-shirt that was too big on her as well the pair of shorts he’d seen previously. She silently sat in front of him, her head hanging low. “The broken bones, that was him, no?” A beat passed and she nodded. Bucky was so furious now he couldn’t speak; they ended up having breakfast without speaking to one another. Afterwards, Bucky sent Y/N back to her room.

The hours began passing. When Y/N noticed that the sun was about to set, her stomach hungrily growling being the thing that snapped her out of her trance, she wondered if she would be let out of the room and given some food. Turns out she didn’t have to wait for an answer— just as the thought passed through her head, the door opened and Bucky walked in, tongue in cheek.

“I’m back home.” Y/N didn’t know he’d left. “Did you… did you have lunch? I forgot to remind the housekeeping staff to give you lunch.” She shook her head no. “I’ve been here the whole day.” His face showed… remorse? An apologetic look crossed his face. “C-Come downstairs to eat something now.” Without a complaint, she got off the bed and followed him towards the dining room. On the dining table was a big plate of cut-up fruits.

Bucky beckoned her to have the first bite. Like in the morning, they sat quiet, until Bucky spoke first. “I called… Edmund today.” Her gaze lifted from the fruits to his face. “What did he say?” she whispered, somewhat dreading the answer. “I asked for a huge ransom, basically something along the lines of what he stole from me. He said… It'll take time. He also threatened me.” This time a chuckle escaped his lips. “If you do anything to my wife, I swear,” he mimicked, causing Y/N to laugh as well.

“Bold coming from him,” she sighed, a tiny smile showing on her face. The mood dimmed again— as “fun” as the conversation was, they weren’t… friends. Y/N was still his victim, Bucky still her kidnapper. There were boundaries they knew they couldn’t cross. But still, there was something…

After finishing the fruit, Bucky took her back to her room. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he cleared his throat, poking his tongue in his cheek again. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, clasping her hands as she swayed back and forth on her toes and heels. She was about to speak when Bucky began walking away, thinking the conversation was done.

She only stared after him.

The days began passing quicker. In what felt like a mere minute, a week passed since Y/N's kidnapping. There was still no sign of Edmund, and Bucky was getting impatient. Impatient not because of money, impatient because Y/N was growing on him. He’d started finding her and her mannerisms tolerable and dare he say it— cute. He had started finding her adorable.

Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her lips, her figure— the figure he’d seen all of before. Y/N was pretty, no doubt, but Bucky mentally hit himself with an imaginary stick every time she was around. He couldn’t possibly think his victim, another man’s wife, was beautiful. But there was no doubt about the fact. Bucky was steadily falling.

Unbeknownst to him, so was she. As little time as they spent with each other, Y/N found herself eagerly awaiting the next time she could see him. She found herself admiring his looks when he wasn’t looking. His steely blue eyes, his long brown hair, his stubble, his physique— the upper part of which she had managed to catch a glimpse of one time— him. She admired him.

Not to mention the fact he treated her way, way better than Edmund ever did. Always gave her food and water, checked on her from time to time, and gave her good living conditions. This was much less a kidnapping and much more a vacation of sorts. The only difference being? While Bucky actively hated himself for falling for her, Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest.

If anything, she had subconsciously begun to pamper herself, as well as she could, so Bucky would notice. He gave her a reason to distance her thoughts from her husband; when they got married, and when the abuse began, she used to think no one else could like her, and the fact that Edmund was still willing to keep her as his wife— she should accept that. But the previous week, she hardly ever thought of him.

She was staring out the window of her room when there was a knock on her door. Her hands flew up to flatten her hair as the door opened. Like she hoped, Bucky stood on the other side, wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants. She blinked owlishly at him. “Come with me.” Y/N hurriedly got off the bed and waddled behind him. To her surprise, he began leading her out of the mansion.

Y/N hadn’t been out of the house since the first night. Dread filled her mind— was Edmund here to pick her up? Instinctively she stopped in her tracks, her eyes filling with tears as she grabbed Bucky’s arm, stopping him as well. He whirled around, startled to see her crying. “Wh-What happened, why are you crying?” A choked sob escaped her lips as she shook her head.

“He’s here, isn’t he? P-Please don’t hand me over to him, please,” she croaked. Before Bucky could speak she piped up again. “Just kill me— I b-beg, Mr Barnes, please!” Another sob left her lips and Bucky felt his resolve breaking. Somehow freeing his arm from her grasp, he walked towards her and hugged her tight, holding her close to his chest. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing her back.

Y/N slowly stopped crying, her fists clutching the back of his tank top. Bucky rested his chin on her head, one arm wrapped tight around her waist as the other continued to rub her back, helping to even out her breathing. His resolve cracked fully— no, Edmund was not getting her back. “He’s not here,” he assured her quietly, “I promise.” She finally calmed down.

“Then where are you taking me?” The way her voice had become so tiny suddenly… Bucky wanted to hit himself for unnecessarily scaring her. “For a walk. I-I thought we— I mean you, should take a walk in the garden for some… fresh air. And I’ll come along… to keep an eye on you,” he stammered. A second passed and she nodded. “I’d like that.” He internally heaved a sigh of relief and they began walking to the mansion’s garden again— this time holding hands.

Y/N was so shaken up and frightened that she refused to let go of Bucky’s hand. Each time he tried pulling away, she whined and held his hand tighter. “Y/N.” Hearing his stern tone, she reluctantly let go of his hand, only to be surprised as he draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. They fell quiet. After spending an hour outside, Bucky noticed it was dinnertime.

They had dinner. And then it was time for Y/N to go to her room again. Try as she might to fall asleep, she couldn’t. Each time she closed her eyes, Edmund’s face appeared in front of her, scaring her awake. Quivering, Y/N stood up, walking out of the room. She wanted to see Bucky. But she didn’t know where his room was. Sighing in defeat, she slid down in front of the door, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. The bedroom felt too unsafe.

What she didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t in his room. He was in the living room, having a glass of whiskey. An hour would pass before he made his way upstairs; since Y/N’s room was nearer to the staircase than his own, he had to pass by in front of her room to go to his. And he was shocked to see her sitting outside, rather than inside. “Y/N?!” She looked up at him, pressing her lips shut to keep herself from crying in front of him again.

Also sighing in defeat and throwing his morals and ethics aside, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. A gasp left her lips as Bucky pinned her against the wall. Her hands were held over her head, Bucky holding her wrists with one hand as the other rested on the wall right next to her waist. “Fuck you for being so adorable and perfect, honestly,” he mirthlessly laughed before pressing his lips to hers in a noisy, wet kiss.

Y/N involuntarily moaned as the kiss got too overwhelming. Bucky, hearing that, grabbed her waist with his free hand and shifted closer to her, grinding his steadily hardening cock against her most sensitive area. “Mmh,” she breathed out. “Liking that, princess?” His hand let go of her wrists to take off the t-shirt she wore. When her breasts came into view, Bucky groaned.

“Ungh, M-Mr Barnes, ah,” she whimpered when he bent forward, taking a nipple between his teeth as his hand toyed with the other one. “Fuck,” he hissed when she rolled her hips against his. Not wasting more time, he knelt in front of her and yanked her shorts down, the cool night air colliding with her wet cunt making her moan. Bucky smirked as he smeared some of her juices around with his fingers.

“So fucking wet for me,” he hummed, grabbing the back of her thighs before burying his face between them, lapping greedily at the juices. His nose rubbed against her clit; Y/N’s fingers curled in his hair, gently pulling him closer. Bucky didn’t even feel like coming up for air. She had the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen, and she tasted sweet, just like her personality. “Bu-Bucky, I’m gonna cum!” When he heard that he finally stopped and looked up at her.

Her face was flushed and her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she rested her head against the wall, her chest heaving. That picture drilled itself into his head; he would never forget that look, how ethereal she looked as he made her fall apart on his tongue. “Cum for me, my love, you won’t be doing so for anyone else for a long, long time.” Hearing those words Y/N let go.

Bucky drank everything she offered. It was like an elixir to him. “So gorgeous, so delicious,” he whispered and stood up, holding her by the hips when her knees buckled. That orgasm had been her most powerful yet. Bucky definitely knew what he was doing. “Come.” He gently carried her in his arms bridal style, allowing her to rest as he took her to his room, kicking open the door with his foot.

Y/N passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Bucky suspected she’d fallen asleep earlier than that, in his arms, rather. His cock was throbbing hard; lying down next to her, he lowered his pants and took his length in his hand, leisurely stroking it as he thought of Y/N— the look on her face. No matter if he got or didn’t get the money from Edmund, he wasn’t giving up on Y/N. She was his now, his to care for. His to fall for.

He felt his orgasm coming. With a whisper of her name he let go, spurting hot, white liquid onto his thighs and hand. Bucky then cleaned himself and pulled his sweatpants up over his limp cock, turning on his side to envelope Y/N in his arms. She, still asleep, turned into him too, burying her face in his chest, curling into him.

For the first time since forever, a genuine smile bloomed on his face.

The next morning couldn't arrive sooner. Bucky woke up before Y/N, and when the previous night's memories resurfaced, one more smile tugged on his lips as he turned to look at the woman asleep next to him. Her lips were turned upwards, and he wondered what kind of a dream she was having. "Oh, Bucky," she suddenly whispered, humming as she turned to lay on her back, facing away from him. Bucky didn't contain his chuckle; the noise woke Y/N up and she blinked her eyes open.

"What was I doing in your dream?" he asked her in a whisper as soon as she gained her senses. "We were in a park eating ice-cream together," she sleepily whispered back, accepting his invite to snuggle closer to him. "But you moaned my name," he cheekily pointed out, "So what was I doing exactly?" At that her cheeks heated up. "I— I had some ice-cream on my lips and you—" She couldn't finish her sentence out of embarrassment. Bucky laughed quietly, trying not to ruin the serenity of the morning.

He leaned in and gave her a peck on the corner of her mouth. "I did that?" Squealing a little, she hit his shoulder and buried her face in his chest, hands covering her eyes. By then Bucky was smiling so wide, he thought his mouth was going to tear open. He wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her impossibly close as they simply lay there, basking in the quietness and bliss of the early morning sun's rays coming in through the closed, white curtains of the window.

Alas the bliss didn't last long; Bucky's phone began ringing, snapping them both out of their trance. Bucky reached for the night stand and grimaced when the Caller ID came into view. "Why him?" Y/N groaned as well, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yes, Silverstein? Do you finally have my money ready?" Bucky drawled, his arm snaking around Y/N's waist. "How is my wife? Is she alright? Let me talk to her!" Bucky glanced at Y/N.

"He wants to talk to you," he whispered to her and her eyes went wide. She tried saying no but Bucky had to be convincing one way or another. So she decided to help him.

Taking the phone from his hand, Y/N held it to her ear. "Hello?" She heard Edmund's sighs of relief. Fake. "My love, are you okay? He hasn't hurt you, has he?" If by hurt you mean making me pass out by giving me a strong orgasm then yes, yes he hurt me. Badly. "No he hasn't." Edmund mumbled something on the other end. "Listen, I have the money ready, okay? I'm getting you back, I promise! You're mine, my wife, and I'll never let anyone hurt you."

"Then why are you the one hurting her, asshole?" Bucky muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Y/N cracked a half-smile at his tone before clearing her throat. "Y-Yeah. So when are you… coming to pick me up?" Bucky snatched the phone from her hand. "I'll be there this evening, my love. I'll assure him that I've come alone, but I will bring some of my men— once I have you back, I'll have them attack him and we'll walk away with the money. You have to play along, hm?"

Bucky smirked. He held the phone away and covered the speakers, turning to Y/N. "Say okay, I'll see you in the evening." She nodded and Bucky gave her the phone. "I'll see you in the evening, okay," she told Edmund, who ended the call. Y/N kept the phone down on her bed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "What did he say? He's coming in the evening?" Bucky laughed loudly, startling her.

"That's the thing! He thought he was still talking to you, so he told you this really elaborate plan that I wasn't supposed to hear. And now I'm one step ahead of him." Y/N laughed at his words too. "Really?! That's so awesome! Now you can plan accordingly, and take the money back!"

He tugged on her hand to pull her close. "Take the money and keep you by my side." Y/N's cheeks flushed. "And that," she mumbled shyly. "Well, now that I know he's coming in the evening, there's still plenty of time that we have, you know…" Bucky hinted coyly, making her lie down on the bed and hovering above her, propped up by his arms. Y/N smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. "Show me what you got, then."

"Oh, trust me princess, I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve, let's see if by the end of it you can even walk."

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr #appreciation post

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Teasing Temptation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,017

Summary: You present Bucky with an idea, a little game to play, and he agrees.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and then my beautiful friend Ali @flordeamatista hosted her Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge and one of Rihanna’s songs just spoke to me for this. I went with “Give it to me like I need it/Rock me out on the floor/Put your hands on me, watch me lose it”: Roc Me Out. Thank you for hosting my sweet! love you and hugs! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Both dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 🥰

Warnings: lots of flirty fun, tension, sassiness, some language, smexy talk

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @unearthlydust thank you lovely 🥰

“I want to play a game.”

At your words Bucky perks up, dropping the book from his hands and shifting so you’re now straddling his lap.

“I’m listening,” he murmurs as his hands settle on your waist, thumbs sneaking under your shirt to feel your skin.

“Don’t distract me,” you smirk and get comfortable.

He raises an eyebrow as you wiggle in his lap.

“Doll…”

“Ok, so,” you start, trying to ignore the growing hardness between his legs. “I was thinking…you know how I love when you’re extra grumpy?”

He nods, sliding his hands higher and tracing the underside of your bra.

“What if we did something that will most definitely make you extra grumpy but definitely be worth it in the end?”

“Does it end with me fucking your brains out?” he asks.

“Yup,” you answer and pop the p.

“I’m in.”

“Buck, I didn’t even tell you the most important part!”

You squirm in his grasp as his fingertips move higher and tease the tiny bow on your bra.

“You know what it’s like when you’ve been gone a mission for a few days,” you continue as you close your fingers around his wrists and pull them from your shirt.

He playfully pouts and you kiss his lips.

“It’s torture being away from you,” he whispers against your mouth.

“And then when you come home…”

“I want to stay buried inside you forever.”

“Mm hm,” you agree, sighing at the thought.

“Are you saying you want us to hold out on sex for a few days?” he asks, easily pulling his hands free of your grasp so he can flip you over and pin you to the couch.

“Let’s see how long we last,” you tell him, willing your body not to react to the feel of him pressed against you.

“Is this a challenge doll?”

“Well, not exactly…but I mean it would be fun to see who breaks first.”

You wiggle your brows and give him a grin.

“Fine,” he says as he dips his head and brushes his lips over yours. “Any rules?”

His warm breath tickles your skin and your eyelashes start to flutter closed.

“Kisses and hugs are fine, light touches but nothing more. And how does three days sound?”

He huffs out a sigh and brushes his nose along your cheek until his face is buried in your neck.

“Not three…two,” he mumbles. “That’s the best I can do.”

“But you’ve been gone on missions for longer than that!” you giggle.

“Two,” he grumbles. “And when I’m gone on a mission you aren’t prancing around lookin’ like a snack I wanna devour.”

You laugh at his analogy and start to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Don’t think you’ll make it Barnes?” you tease, giggling when he presses his lips to your throat.

He abruptly stands and you suck in a gasp, digging your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight of his hard-on straining against his sweats.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Two nights.”

“What time are we leaving for dinner Buck?” you yell from the bathroom.

“Six thirty doll,” he shouts back.

You wrap the towel around your body and stroll out into the hall. When you reach the bedroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and putting on his socks.

His lips turn down into a frown.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he states.

“Are you saying I can’t shower for the next two days?” you ask coyly as you bend over and pretend to look in the drawer.

“No.”

He’s suddenly in your space, his arm around your waist to turn you to face him. He presses you into the dresser, his mouth an inch from yours as his free hand toys with the top of your towel.

“Bucky,” you gasp, weakly pushing on his chest.

“You tease me doll face…” he whispers. “I tease ya back.”

You fight back the desire to tell him to rip the towel off and bend you over and instead shimmy out of his hold.

“We have a long way to go,” you say, not hiding your frustration.

“It’s only been two hours,” he whines, adjusting himself in his pants. “FUCK.”

“Are you getting dessert?” Bucky asks when the waiter leaves with your clean dinner plates.

“Are you?” you counter, licking your lips at the thought of watching him eat something ooey and gooey.

“Let’s share,” he says, throwing you a wink.

He orders the chocolate lava cake and your mouth waters for more than one reason. The waiter places the cake in the middle of the table and hands each of you a spoon.

Bucky dives right in and takes a big bite, shoving the spoon is his mouth and moaning around it before licking it clean.

You do the same, mostly to stop yourself from moaning at his reaction but with his eyes trained on your mouth you can’t help but tease a little.

“Wow, tastes almost as good as you.”

Your words have his features hardening, the muscle in his jaw clenched tight as he slides his metal hand under the table and grips your thigh.

“If I have to wait to fuck your brains out,” he says softly, his tone betraying his words, “you have to stop saying things that test my control.”

You grab his wrist, spreading your legs as discreetly as possible under the table and shove his hand high enough so his fingers brush the dampness on your panties.

“Fuck me,” he hisses. “This is fucking torture.”

“It’ll be worth it,” you tell him, clearly trying to convince yourself as well.

“I know.” He drags his heated gaze over you. “That’s the only reason you’re still sitting there and not on my cock.”

“Bucky,” you breathe out.

“Doll face…just…finish your dessert.”

His metal fingers slip away from you and he brings them back to the table, his hand clenched in a permanent fist as he takes another bite of cake.

“Hey Barnes, you’re draggin’ today. Let’s move!” Sam yells, turning back to Bucky as he lags behind.

Sam slows down until Bucky catches up and elbows him in the ribs.

“You’re extra broody this morning. Everything ok?” Sam asks.

“I’m good, thanks,” Bucky grunts before he takes off in a sprint.

Sam rolls his eyes with a sigh and mumbles a curse before taking off after him.

When Sam catches you sitting on the steps outside your apartment building after he and Bucky return from the run he immediately frowns at your expression.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You ok?”

You look up with a start, not having realized he was there, your thoughts still lingering on the sight of Bucky jogging toward you, sweat slicked with his shirt sticking to every muscle of his torso.

“Yeah, all good,” you answer. “Why?”

“I dunno know…you look tense,” Sam explains. “And Bucky was extra grumpy this morning.”

Your lips start to lift into a sideways smirk and Sam’s eyes narrow.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asks.

“Nothing. Everything is great,” you assure him before waving goodbye and hurrying off to find Bucky.

You open the door to your bedroom and find Bucky walking out of the bathroom in just a towel.

Steeling yourself with a grin you say, “heard you were a grump this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky answers as he leans against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

You step closer to him and mirror his pose along the opposite wall. A drop of water rolls off his chin and down his neck before tracing the muscles along his chest and moving over his abs until it disappears in the soft trail of hair below his belly button.

Your eyes follow it the entire way and you have to drag your gaze away from the muscular V at his hips when he speaks.

“My eyes are up here baby doll,” he chuckles.

You blow him off with a raspberry and start to stomp off but he grabs you and pulls you against his hard chest.

Heat suffuses you as you trail your fingertips over his skin. He dips his head and whispers against your lips, “I’m going to fuck you so hard, doll, you’ll never be rid of the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you tremble, throwing his earlier words back at him.

“You wanted this,” he answers, his tone sassy.

“Well, now I have to go change my panties. Thanks.”

His strong fingers dig into your skin. “I can’t do this doll.”

“Yes, you can,” you reply, swallowing hard at the thought that you aren’t even sure you’ll make it.

“Fuck,” he bites out, releasing you like you’re on fire.

“Maybe we should go do something?” you suggest as you stare at your husband from across the couch.

You can’t sit too close to him because his hands are always on you and you want it that way so it’s easier to put some physical distance between you.

“Like?” he asks, looking up from his book.

“I dunno, something out in public this way it’s easier to control ourselves.”

“That’s never stopped me before,” he murmurs as his eyes darken.

“Bucky,” you groan and squeeze your thighs together.

His eyes fly between your legs and he licks his lips.

“Fine,” he growls. “Let’s go play pool.”

“I haven’t played pool in so long,” you tell him as you walk into the dimly lit bar.

“That’s ok doll face. I’ll help ya.”

You smile as he leads you across the floor with his hand on your lower back.

“I’m going to enjoy you saying the word ‘balls’ a lot,” you giggle.

He pins you with a glare but you can see the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You watch him bend over the table with his cue stick and admire the view of his ass in his tight jeans. He easily pockets one of the balls and saunters over to you.

“You know how to hold the cue stick?”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief and you open your mouth to give him a cheeky answer but before you can he presses a metal finger to your lips.

“Don’t doll,” he whispers. “Just…show me.”

You take the cue stick in your hands and position it before you bend over the pool table. He slides up behind you, leaning over you as he adjusts your hold.

“Like this,” he whispers along the shell of your ear.

You make a sound of acknowledgement and wait for him to back away.

“Bucky?” you ask, slightly breathless. “I think you need to move.”

“Well, unless you want everyone to see how tight my jeans are right now you gotta give me a minute,” he growls.

“I don’t think the position we are currently in will help at all,” you giggle and wiggle your ass.

“Doll,” he warns.

You take your shot, missing it thanks to him crowding your space.

“That’s your fault,” you say as you push him up and let your eyes fall to his crotch.

“And this is your fault,” he mumbles, discreetly trying to adjust himself.

“You bent me over the table,” you sass back.

“This was a bad idea.”

“This was a great idea Buck.”

Bucky unlocks the door and holds it open for you. You slip past him and toe off your shoes.

“You know we never set an exact time for when this would be over,” you muse as drop your bag. “Technically tonight is two days but are we torturing ourselves until later tonight or should we….”

The rest of your sentence is cut off when he grabs your hand and abruptly pushes you against the wall. His body presses hard into yours and he captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head.

“Game over,” he rumbles.

“But who won?” you ask as your knees tremble and your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t give a fuck doll face. The only thing care about is having my cock buried inside you.”

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @goldylions @jhangelface0523 @lookiamtrying @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @late-to-the-party-81 @manyfandomsfanvergent @peaches1958 @rebel-stardust

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #loveeeeeee song writing challenge

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sgt-seabass · 4 months

Text

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass

I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free. (x)

pairing — bucky barnes x fem!reader w/c — 9.7k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to —♫disaster

part of the Vengeance AU previous part - 𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

warnings — bucky barnes is going through it, dark fic, the reader is having a hard time mentally (.... totally not self inserting heh), violence, slapping, spanking, use of a gun to threaten, non-consensual connotations and threats (nothing actually happens), mild mention of blood and injury, captivity, forced drugging via injection a/n — sorry this took so long. depression is a bitch. thank you navy for putting up with my delays!

The thing about love is that it comes with risks. And the biggest risk of all is loss, for a heart that does not yearn for another never truly knows the meaning of catastrophic loss until grief visits them.

Love was still worth it to Bucky. Even with his wrenching heart and endless tears, the tenderness he shared with you was something that no one could steal or decimate. While the assailants had trashed your shared home, they could never take the memories - the feeling of your deft fingers brushing across his skin, the bright smiles you’d gift him, and the unwavering silent support that always held him upright.

Bucky was a man because you motivated him to be his best self. He was no longer a ghost, a nightmare, a mirage of misery - he was human.

You were gone. And there would be nothing stopping him from getting you back.

It had been three days since you’d been taken, and frustratingly, Bucky felt no closer to finding you than the day when he’d first found the ruins of the apartment. He’d moved back into the tower with Alpine, taking up refuge in his old compound apartment. It was kept the same, like he’d never left. And he felt the same as when he’d lived there last – lost.

The whole team had become involved in finding you. You were family to all of them. And no one gets away with fucking with the family of the Avengers.

Bucky sighed and impatiently tapped his foot against the floor as he waited in the meeting room with Steve, Natasha, and Sam. Tony had been working on a reconstruction of what happened in the apartment since the security cameras were somehow turned off before the assailant’s arrival.

It was a planned hit; that much was clear. But they needed the rest of the details of what happened to know what they were looking at.

The room was silent. What could anyone say that hadn’t already been said? Bucky’s friends had already assured him they’d get you back safely, but those were empty promises said just to stop him from throwing himself off the top of the compound.

Bucky stared at the blank white wall ahead of him while his mind spiralled. This was his fault. If you were dead, that blood was on his hands. He should have known of the threat – had some inkling that this was coming. But he was completely blind-sighted. There was no indication that there was an incoming attack.

“Move the table to the side so we have room,” Tony commanded as he entered, his usual quips missing – quips that always made you laugh and smile, brightening the room with your aura.

“Hello to you too, Tony,” Sam said, assisting Bucky and Steve in pushing the meeting room table to the side so there was some floor space for Tony’s visualisation tool.

“Do you think she’s alive? Could she have survived the attack?” Were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth, his voice strained from the amount of crying he’d been doing.

“Yeah, I think she’s alive. Are you sure you want to see this, Barnes? It’s… It’s pretty brutal, even for your standards,” Tony sniped, earning a stern look from Steve. Bucky didn’t care, though; it was a fair enough jab when he’d been the one to kill Tony’s parents.

“Real smooth, Tony,” Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms.

Bucky set the awkward air aside. They weren’t going to get anywhere otherwise. “I need to see it.”

“Maybe you should wait outside, Buck—” Steve started, but Bucky raised his hand to shut him up.

“Don’t coddle me. I need to see it.”

Steve just put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze while Tony set up his small projection device.

Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the image that greeted him. There you were, or at least, an apparition of you. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he held himself back. What he couldn’t stop were the tears that welled in his eyes. What if this was the last time he ever saw you? You already looked like a ghost in the odd blue hue of the technology.

Bucky gulped, his breaths coming out thick as you started moving from the bedroom to the shower. It played out like a macabre movie. Three assailants entered the apartment through the front door.

“They had keys?” Natasha asked, and Tony nodded in response.

Sam partially looked away when the assault began, Natasha and Steve’s faces hardening while Bucky had tears tracking down his cheeks. You fought hard, and Bucky couldn’t feel any prouder. You were his light – his fire, and you fought with every morsel of energy you had.

Tony was right – the ordeal was brutal and cruel. These men didn’t just kidnap you; they tormented you. This was personal.

“Any forensics?” Steve asked, his voice shaky.

“None. Whoever they are, they’re professionals,�� Tony leant against the table. “And they clearly have a vendetta. Any enemies that stand out, Barnes?”

“Hydra is always top of the list.” Just the mention of the name had everyone in the room shuddering. Hydra had already done so much damage.

“Hydra fell when S.H.I.E.L.D did. They’re gone,” Sam reclined against the wall, hand rubbing nervously over his jaw, the same spot Rumlow had got a good hit on him during their fight at the Triskelion.

“You’re naive if you think that would get rid of them.” Natasha walked up to the projection, zooming in on the word you’d written on the ground. Blonde. “Although I don’t remember any of our known enemies being blonde.”

“Pierce was blonde.” Steve suggested.

Tony shook his head. “He was grey. And I highly doubt he’d be breaking into an apartment, seeing as he’s got a bullet-sized hole in his chest. Plus, he was an old fucker.”

Bucky forced himself to watch the whole recreation, eyes not straying for a moment as he searched for anything he was missing. It was a carefully executed but merciless attack. Tony was right; it seemed you’d survive physically, but what about your mind?

Bucky could hardly bear to think about what they were doing with you now they had you alone.

With you passed out on the floor, Bucky watched as the men bundled you up in a sheet to carry your bloody mess of a body out in. “There were no drag marks?”

Tony shrugged. “Nope. They carried her.”

“Did no neighbours report anything?”

“It was early morning, so most had already left for work, and anyone who did see something aren’t coming forward. People these days aren’t keen on being a snitch since that puts a target on their backs,” Sam delivered sadly. To a degree, Bucky understood, but at the same time, he wanted to question every person in the damn building.

Realistically, his efforts would be better placed searching through viable intelligence sources. The more reliable the information, the better. These guys would have had to make some noise somewhere, and Bucky intended to find where.

“I’ll ask Maria to get the analysts onto where they might have gone. They’ll check every car that was spotted in the area if they have to. And we’ll see what we can get off the surrounding cell towers. If we’re lucky, they pinged off one of them. They can’t have just disappeared with her,” Natasha’s voice turned clinical. It was easier to be strategic without the emotional strings attached.

Steve nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Check all private flights and airspace as well. I expect they’ve left the country and gone somewhere harder to track. The fact they went to this effort and didn’t kill her outright means they have a use for her, which means she’s still alive.”

“Until that use runs out,” Bucky cut Steve off, his jaw twinging with how hard he clenched his teeth. “Then they’ll kill her.”

“We’ll find her before then, Buck.”

“We have to. She’s taken my heart with her.”

You’d been lucky in your life that you’d been sheltered from physical pain. You’d known grief, sadness, all the usual trials of life. But this level of absolute anguish was new.

You were thankful you’d gone this long not knowing what it felt like to fear an impending death.

What even was death? An endless nothing? A light at the end of the tunnel? A world where you’re reunited with all those souls that had already left? Either way, it was the cessation of suffering. You can’t suffer when you don’t exist.

Days had passed since your capture, and a routine had set in. In your dank, mossy-smelling cell, you ate, stretched, slept, shit, and brushed your teeth - a macabre rinse and repeat that had your mind dulling. You prided yourself in being creative, so having no stimuli apart from grey walls and odd smells was a special kind of torture.

Your captors left you alone for the most part. You only saw them when they delivered meals and your toothbrush, and even then, sometimes, they’d just slide the items through a small hatch in the bottom of the door, expecting you to return the items promptly.

Damien or Maddox would often leave with some snide remark, while Kage never said anything.

The thought of fighting back had crossed your mind, although you couldn’t do much with them watching, the blinking red light of a camera in the corner of your room a constant reminder that you were not alone.

Bucky would be closing in by now, right? Each time you heard steps coming to your enclosure, a morsel of hope would flourish like a blooming flower. And each time, those beautiful flowers had their heads sliced off. The disappointment was clear on your face each time, and a small whine would escape, normally ending in you devolving into a pit of tears.

Crying was the only solace.

As the days had passed, you began to fear the opening of the door, because you expected death with his scythe and billowing black mist to be there waiting to cut off your head, like the way your hope had been deflowered.

Today was the same as all the others. Pain, tears, and acute loneliness all present. You sat on your cot with your legs to your chest, bandaged feet resting on the mattress so you could cry against your knees. Your wounds were healing slowly, bloody bandages changed by Kage each day, while your heart continued to break.

The wall vibrated subtly as music began playing upstairs, the reverberations traveling all the way down to your cell. You were underground, that much you had gathered. After your dinner, you would hear the music begin to play. You weren’t sure what they were doing up there, but you never heard any additional voices, so you assumed your captors were alone. Although, there could easily be a thick layer of concrete separating your roof from their floor, so you just might not be able to hear it.

All you did know was the music normally meant it was time to try and sleep. You had no sunlight, so you had to rely on the meals and music as your clock. You could have an opposite sleeping schedule for all you knew, but the men never said anything of it, so you assumed your intuition was right.

With a heavy sigh, you lay down, covered in an oversized t-shirt and cotton panties. It was cold, but with nothing more than a thin blanket, so you had no choice but to shiver and bear it.

The vibrations in the wall made a white noise that filled the room, and you preferred that over the silence. You couldn’t hear the music, so you liked to try to imagine what song it might be based on the tempo.

You smiled to yourself as you placed your hand against the wall. Whatever it was, you knew Bucky would hate it. Deep bass beats were never his style. While you liked to imagine your boyfriend as John Wick, fighting along to electronic music, you knew the reality was far more grim.

Thinking of Bucky, your eyes started to get heavy, and you slowly fell asleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful slumber, but it was rest - something you tried to get every chance you could. You didn’t know when you’d need your strength, so you tried to reserve it.

And as it turned out, a situation requiring your strength was around the corner much sooner than you had expected.

The door to your cell swung open, and the loud sound had you shooting up with a squeak and wide eyes, no remnants of sleep in your mind as adrenaline surged through your veins.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight you’d be met with.

It was Damien who spoke first as they entered. “We caught ourselves a new pet. I have to say, this one seems much less fuckable than you.”

“Bucky,” you gasped, mostly in disbelief.

It wasn’t the rescue you’d dreamed of. Bucky hadn’t come in guns blazing and a smile of relief on his face.

No, Bucky was slumped, his metal shoulder being carried by Maddox and the other by Damien, while his legs dragged across the floor behind him and his arms were secured behind his back. He was dressed in his tactical gear like he’d come with the intention to save you. His face was bloodied and ashen, his hair sickly sticking to his forehead, and to your horror, there was a muzzle placed over the lower half of his face. You’d seen a picture of Bucky from when he was a soldier when you’d accidentally walked into a briefing room in the compound, his face scattered among others you didn’t recognise. But seeing him like that in the flesh was something else entirely.

You jumped up from the bed, ready to run to him, but Kage was by your side before you could act. He placed his hand on your collarbone, warning you to stay in place. “Your face is priceless.”

You couldn’t even feel the pain in your feet, as if the wounds were never there, as you whimpered at the sight of your lover.

“Bucky, are you alright? Bucky. Oh god.” You tried to move, but Kage’s hand gripped your forearm painfully, his digits digging in and leaving divots. Bucky tried to speak beneath the mask, but only muffled sounds came out. “No, please, don’t hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Maddox grinned, the pride clear as day on his face. “The mutt put up a fight, I’ll give it that. But it failed. That must really suck for you.”

They spoke like he wasn’t even a man. Not even a dog. Just an annoyance - a hindrance.

Damien and Maddox dumped Bucky on his knees a few steps from you. And that’s when he finally looked up. It was like he hadn’t wanted to accept that was your voice he heard, but once he set eyes on you, that was it.

The dams broke, and both of you resolved into tears. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening.” Damien kicked Bucky’s back, sending him lurching forward, his cheek painfully hitting the concrete floor. The pained sounds that came from your boyfriend would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Stop it!” You yelled, Bucky’s whimpers too much for you to handle. He was trying so desperately to speak, to move, but they’d beaten him badly and secured his metal arm away with vibranium cuffs.

It didn’t stop him from trying though. Bucky rose to his feet, swinging his weight around so he could roundhouse kick towards Maddox and Damien. Maddox was faster though, pushing Damien out of the way and catching Bucky’s leg.

There was a sick crunch when Maddox tripped Bucky’s stable left leg, his body buckling to the floor while Maddox held his right leg, allowing the joint at his hip to fold into an odd position before Bucky hit the floor on his side. He withered with a pained groan, while Damien took the chance to kick him in the stomach. It was like watching the most morbid film play out in front of you, and all you wanted to do was hold Bucky and tell him it was going to be okay. But the thing was, you never lied to him. And you had no plan to start now.

You tried desperately to wrench yourself from Kage’s grip, but instead he yanked your back to his chest, placing his arm across your belly so you were held uncomfortably against him. “He failed you. Do you think he still thinks this is all worth it? Or do you think he should have just left you to rot?”

It was the most Kage had ever spoken to you, as if Bucky’s mere presence brought out a vitriol he kept hidden.

You shook your head, desperate to reject the baseless accusations. Even with his mouth covered, you could see in his expression alone the love Bucky held for you. You would never stop believing in him, even in death. “He hasn’t failed me,“ you gritted out, tears tracking down your cheeks. “He could never fail me.”

A sense of realisation took over you, the cogs turning as you looked upon your beaten lover. You’d wished for him to rescue you, to take you away from the pain and shield you from any further torment. But in doing so, you’d denied that Bucky was vulnerable - that he was the human you so dearly loved - made of flesh and blood and so dearly mortal. By placing him on the pedestal of a hero, you denied him his sensitivities, his feelings. You’d made him impuissant through your view of him as an impregnable force. You forgot that he is but a thing of atoms and material, so easily broken.

It was due to your expectations that he lay on the ground before you, bleeding and crying. Because he knew you were waiting for him. And here he was - just not in the way you had hoped. Now, hope was but a bird with broken wings, ready for death and the conclusion of existence. It was time for it to be put out of its acute misery. And it was time for you to mature and take responsibility for your future.

“The only person who can save me is myself. It’s my path to take, not his,” your words came out shuddered, your hand raising to cover your mouth to try and hide your sob. It did little to muffle the sound as your eyes met the familiar cerulean blues. “Bucky. It’s fine.”

Damien pulled the muzzle from his face, and Bucky allowed a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in hours. “You have me, just let her go.”

Maddox laughed, shaking his head as he ruffled Bucky’s hair. “Trying to be noble, huh?” His fingers looped in the sweat-drenched strands, roughly pulling Bucky’s head back as he whimpered. “Do we look like we’re going to let her go?”

“She’s innocent in this, please,” Bucky begged, blood trickling down from his hairline as he squirmed on the cold floor. It was a painful, pitiful sight. “Keep me, but let her go.”

“Why would we when we can have some fun? She’s so pretty when she cries. The perfect toy for us to play with,” Kage husked, the hand on your stomach starting to dip lower towards your dignity.

You slapped his hand, an action which gained you a violent response. Kage threw you to your knees, the impact causing your bones to quiver and your cries to fill the room. You had to be strong, you had to be strong - the mantra didn’t help much as Bucky snarled protectively. “You touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you. I swear I’ll–”

“You keep running that mouth of yours, and it’s her we’ll punish,” Maddox gripped Bucky’s chin between his fingers, before spitting in his face.

“Please, I’m begging you. She’s just a normal girl, she’s innocent–”

“She’s not going to be so innocent when she has our cocks shoved down her throat.” Damien approached you, eyes raking your barely covered form. You stunk after days of not bathing, but that seemed like the least of their concerns.

“I can see why you picked her. She’s so much fun to have around.” Maddox forced Bucky’s viewline to you, arching his head on an awkward angle with the fingers tangled in his locks.

“You don’t own her,” Bucky rasped. “No one does.”

Maddox hummed with a shake of his head. ”That’s where you’re wrong. We all have our masters. Now we’re hers.”

"I will fucking kill you," Bucky snarled, trying to get off the floor, trying so desperately to fight. But he was easily subdued by Maddox in his weakened state.

Damien turned to your boyfriend with a smirk. "Not before we fill up each of her holes. So why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Be a good boy now. Wouldn't want to have to muzzle you… again."

"We're going to enjoy breaking her," Maddox teased, his face getting close to Bucky’s, a staring contest of will beginning between the two. A contest that Bucky quickly lost when Maddox punched him in the gut. ”While you have your own appeal, I don’t fuck mutts.”

It was hard to process the scene playing out in front of you - the taunting, the threats, the hurt. It was too much to bear. You just wanted to be in Bucky’s arms again and have him tell you it was all okay.

But no, you had to be strong. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.”

Kage held you firm, his free hand reaching up from behind to grab your jaw painfully. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his hot huff of breath against your ear, the remnants of a growl in it.

“You’ll do whatever we want regardless,” Damien commented, searching your face and soaking up all the emotion he could find.

Maddox left Bucky battered on the ground, but not without one more kick, this time to the underside of his jaw. Bucky’s head snapped back, a crack sounding as his teeth slammed together in the forced movement.

You screamed, Kage and Damien’s hands beginning to roam across your body, feeling you like you were theirs. But it was like you couldn’t even see the three men anymore - just Bucky. Your vision had tunnelled to the focus on the one thing you cared about.

“Bucky! Are you alright? Bucky, please!” You couldn’t look away as his head lolled sickly, blood pouring from his mouth and nose.

The hands keep moving over you, nausea roiling in your gut with each passing moment. But you still only focussed on Bucky. “Bucky, please. Bucky. You’ve got to get out of here. Somehow. Just go, please.”

The cell door was cracked open. He could logically make a run for it. But you knew he wouldn’t, not in his current state, and not without you. Maybe Steve was on his way? But you knew Bucky wouldn’t look so crestfallen if help was coming.

“Please, Bucky.” You cried, not even sure what you were asking for at this point, all you could do was scream his name.

The more you yelled for him, the more you chanted his name like the only prayer you knew, the more the world began to warble.

Bucky’s form began to waver, as did the rest of the room. Maddox, Damien and Kage had frozen in their assault, their skin rippling as your breath suddenly fell short.

What was happening? You couldn’t scream for Bucky anymore - you couldn’t do anything, as if your mouth had been glued shut.

As your tears fell and sobs bubbled from your throat, the world dissolved.

The nightmare was ending, allowing leeway for the real horrors to become apparent.

You woke for real this time with a jolt, your sounds muffled by the tape over your lips. You were sobbing just like you had been in your dream, and as you took stock of the room you quickly realised Bucky wasn’t here. It had been a horrible nightmare.

What was real, was Maddox towering over you, a roll of tape discarded on the ground and his gun to your head. He looked the angriest you’d ever seen, salivating and almost frothing at the mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The tears started falling faster as you screamed against the tape, but it did little to quell Maddox. He forced each end of the tape down, the gun in his hand coldly pressing against your cheek.

“Say his name again, I dare you. I'm not going to cut your tongue out. I'll fucking rip it out,” he growled, his words mouthed against your face and over your bound lips. His spit smeared over your skin, the heat of it warming where the metal of the gun had cooled.

All you could smell, see and hear was him. It was an overwhelming sensation that had you wanting to escape.

You writhed, but you couldn’t get away from him as he caged you in, kissing over your mouth again in a show of control, not endearment. He could take what he wanted from you whenever he wanted. You screamed and squirmed, but Maddox held you in place before ripping the tape off, allowing you to finally breathe in the musky basement air. “This fucking mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

“W-What did I—“ Your heart nearly broke through your ribcage with how hard it was beating as Maddox forced the barrel of his handgun into your mouth, the metal sitting against your tongue and leaving a horrible taste.

The struggle stopped, and you looked into Maddox’s eyes. The malice was pertifying. It wasn’t the same look he’d had during the assault in your apartment; no. It was worse. He was going to kill you.

His thumb moved in one swift motion to click the safety off, his finger resting on the trigger. “Say goodbye.”

You closed your eyes, fear clutching your heart and what felt like concrete in your lungs. You didn’t want Maddox’s face to be the last thing you saw, so you thought of when you and Bucky had adopted Alpine.

She had been found on the streets as a stray, only a year old with matted hair and a little injured paw. You’d both fallen in love with her, and nursed her into the ball of chaotic floof she was today. You thought of the moment where you first brought her home. She stayed in her carrier after the door had opened, too scared to venture out. So you and Bucky sat on the floor, cuddling and talking while Alpine slowly came out, before sitting next to you both. It was so peaceful. Such a small moment changed the trajectory of your life. It was those pockets of happiness you cherished the most.

You waited for the bang, the flash, the quick pain before the nothingness. But it didn’t come.

Instead, you heard rushed steps and yells before Maddox was hauled off you, the brunette slipping the safety back on as he let the other two pull him back.

“What the fuck?” Damien snapped, a commotion starting.

But it was like water was in your ears as you stared up at the ceiling from your bed, the chain secured around your ankle rattling with the way your body couldn’t stop shaking. Your arms covered your torso, and it took you what felt like forever to open your eyes.

“She was calling for him! For that bastard!” Maddox yelled, and it was then you turned your head to look at him.

“What, so you were going to kill her? Mads! Stop! We just got her!” Damien grabbed Maddox by the shoulders, shaking him like it would bring him to his senses.

"One simple fucking rule. Don't ask to go back to him. She was wailing like a fucking banshee."

Kage was the only controlled one, ushering Damien out of the way so he could take Maddox’s face into his hands. “You’re not back there. You’re not being compared to him, not being tested on. Stop. You’re here, and you almost just killed her.”

“She. Called. For. Him,” Maddox said through gritted teeth.

Damien glanced over at you, and it made you curl a little closer to the wall. "She didn't mean to, Mads. You know she didn't. Just breathe. Come on.”

It didn’t stop Maddox from spitting on the ground, his breaths coming out in adrenaline fueled shudders. “That piece of shit. I bet he bragged to her. I bet she fucking knows everything he did and is playing stupid.” With Kage holding him, his sightline turned to you. ”You’re pretending like you have no idea what he’s done, aren’t you? You dumb fucking bitch!”

“You know that’s not what’s happening,” Kage quickly reasoned with Maddox’s face still between his palms. It was clear there was a brother-like bond between the three of them. It would be nice, if the context of the situation didn’t exist. If anything, it made you more scared of them.

The fear had your body feeling frail, and it took you a few tries before you could sit up on your cot. “W-Whatever I did… I’m sorry. I don’t k-know what’s happening.”

Even you were caught off guard with the weakness in your voice, but the apology did nothing to appease Maddox. In fact, it incited the flame again. He broke free of Kage’s hold, and you didn’t have time to defend yourself before he smacked you hard across the face, the sound resonating like a sick echo in the cell.

The pain came a few seconds later, a sharp sting spreading across your face as you sobbed.

“You fucking bitch. You think this is funny, don’t you? Playing the innocent act just so you can fucking laugh at me once I’m gone.” He was trying to goad you into something you weren’t. You wore no mask, obscured no part of yourself. You were just you. And in a world where so many people lied and deceived, you could understand where the line of thought had come from. But Maddox couldn’t be more wrong about you.

What was it he had against Bucky anyway? There was clearly history you were missing, some big piece of the puzzle that had been hidden.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Damien was tugging him back, taking the gun from him and pulling him away. “Mads, you’re triggered. That’s enough. You’re not yourself.”

For a moment, you could swear there were unshed tears in Maddox’s eyes, but didn’t get the chance to tell before Damien had pulled him from the room, leaving you alone with Kage.

There was a long silence for a moment, just your cries as your hand rested on your throbbing cheek, with Kage standing by in thought. He looked to you, his icy stare not helping you calm down. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

You could still hear Maddox yelling as you rubbed your cheek, and when Maddox’s voice finally faded you curled your knees up to your chest, your sobs shaking you. Maddox would have killed you if they hadn’t intervened, but now you were going to be punished. It was cruel. “What did I do?”

“You broke a rule. You called for him. Subconscious or not, every part of you has to learn the consequences.” Kage rolled up his sleeves, crossing his arms. It was clear his conviction was settled, and there would be no point bartering. “First, you’re going to shower. You’ve pissed yourself.”

Fresh tears filled your eyes when you looked down and realised Kage wasn’t lying. The sheets stuck uncomfortably to your legs and panties, the hem of your shirt soaked. You weren’t even sure when it happened, having been so caught up in the nightmare and then Maddox’s rage. Your fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, head hanging so you didn’t have to look at Kage.

Part of you wasn’t even sure if you were humiliated. They’d stripped you so bare you didn’t have much left, not even the dignity that would be hurt from something like this. More than anything, you cursed yourself for not being braver.

You had to hold your own if you were going to survive.

Words failed you when Kage took your arm to stand you up, and you didn’t say a word as he released your chains started to lead you from the room.

It was a slow walk as you hobbled on your injured feet, but it was clear Kage had no intention of carrying you as he walked a few steps ahead. He’d let go of his hold, so confident that you’d follow him that he didn’t even look back. You knew he’d overpower you without even breaking a sweat if you tried anything, and you didn’t have the energy to fight.

You were surprised to see the underground was more than just your room, with a small hallway connecting you to a large shower room. You assumed there must be more cells, because there were multiple shower heads and a few random lockers. Almost as if it was a prisoner gym shower. It was odd, and you cautiously stepped forward.

Kage just ushered you towards the shower, crossing his arms as he watched you limp onto the tiled surface. You went to take off your bandages, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Flustered, you moved to your shirt and underwear instead, turning away from him as you stripped bare and dumped the soiled clothing on the floor.

You cautiously stepped forward to turn the shower on, shuddering when the cold water began pouring out. There was only one tap, and no indication that the water was getting warmer, so you turned back to your captor. “There’s no hot water?”

There was no response from Kage, just a stare that told you all you needed to know, as if he was silently saying ‘get on with it’.

You shivered as you stood under the cold stream. When the water washed over your face, it was like you were back in your apartment all over again, and you let out a panicked gasp before stepping back.

The way your body shook wasn’t only from the cold.

With a bated breath, you glanced back at Kage. But he was no closer. He wasn’t going to pull you out, going to attack you, it seemed. The danger still loomed, memories of your assault fresh in your mind.

You returned to the water, washing yourself off as you could feel Kage’s gaze burning into you, as if he was studying each of your movements. He finally moved when the water shut itself off, pointing to a grey towel that was the same dull colour as the rest of the basement.

The last remaining water droplets blinked from your vision as you stepped forward, taking the towel and beginning to dry off. You glanced around, frowning when you saw there were no fresh clothes.

“Uhm… clothes?” You asked hopefully, to which Kage shook his head. It wasn’t surprising, but it was upsetting.

As you ran the towel across your skin, you couldn’t rid of the nagging question that was plaguing your mind. “Why didn’t you just let him kill me?”

“He doesn’t need the guilt,” Kage finally spoke, but his answer only made your brows furrow.

“Why would he feel guilty for getting rid of someone who doesn’t matter?” It was conflicting information. They’d said you were nothing while in your apartment, and had treated you as such. But of course, you weren’t given an answer. Instead, Kage began leading you back to your room, your waterlogged bandages making it hard to walk. “What’s my punishment?”

Kage doesn’t answer, instead leaving you alone in your cell. “Strip the bed. I’ll be back.”

You gently rubbed your cheek where Maddox slapped you as you stared at the open door. You could run, but that would just worsen the situation. And you were in no condition to make it far.

Your gaze shifted to the blinking red light in the corner, staring into the black lens before snapping out of it and beginning to strip the bed as you were told. You kept replaying the events in your head, but it just didn’t make sense. You didn’t know why Maddox was so furious, and why Kage and Damien stopped him before he did any real damage. There was clearly something you were missing, but you were too fatigued to notice.

You used the sheets to soak up any remaining moisture from the mattress, which was covered with some sort of dark waterproof fabric. Unsure of what else to do, you placed the sheets by the bed.

With the sheets on the floor, you sat next to them on the cold concrete, waiting until Kage came back in with fresh bedding. He held it out to you, waiting for you to approach him with an air of impatience. You hoped your punishment was a simple as making the bed, but you knew you were in for worse at the hands of these men.

It didn’t take Kage commanding you to put the fresh sheets on the bed, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. He let out a hum when you finished, before taking a seat. “Come here.”

You let out a shaky breath before you approached him. There was something so ominous about the blue shine to his eyes, like a full moon bearing its magnetic energy onto you. You couldn’t help but feel pulled towards him, like your legs moved before you could even think. When you got close enough, Kage took your wrist into his grip. There was a beat of silence for a moment before he yanked you down. You yelped as you fell, your stomach hitting his thighs as he bent you over his knees. It was a humiliating position. As if they hadn’t caused you enough shame.

As naked as the day you were born, you lay across his legs, your ass raised, and shoulders slumped. There was no escape. You were under no illusion that there was no way you could reasonably get out without help. And without Bucky, or any of your friends, you were stuck.

You felt as if you hadn’t slept at all, and tiredness nipped at the back of your eyes as you resigned yourself in his lap. He seemed pleased, a near silent grunt sounding as he rubbed circles over the globes of your ass.

When the first slap landed, you yelped, a sharp pain on your ass from the impact of his palm.

“One.” You heard him count under his breath, before the second spank hit. “Two.” Tears gathered in your eyes, small droplets hitting the ground below as the third hit landed. “Three.”

“Why?” You croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

“Four.” Kage uttered, another slap hitting you and causing your body to jolt. Four. The counting continued despite your pleas, the pain worsening with each hit. He wasn’t holding back, and the pain began to elevate to the point where you felt as if your bones may shatter. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

“Please, I don’t understand. I’m sorry- I’m s-sorry I said his name. But I didn’t do it on purpose,” your words are mottled with sobs, and you turned back to look at him despite the way you had coiled around his thighs. “I don’t understand. Why do you hate him?”

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

Kage’s icy glare met yours. In just a look alone he conveyed so much emotion, far more than words could ever express. There was anger and hurt all broiled up in a stew of self-pity. Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine. His spanks didn’t stop, not even when your cries resounded off the walls like a ghoulish orchestra, your begs garbled with the agony coursing through you.

“Thirty,” he coldly said, his hand once against slapping against your abused ass. When he brought up his hand for another hit, he stopped. On his palm was little dots of blood. You whimpered at the sight of it, and his eyes narrowed. He’d been hitting you so hard he’d broken skin with the impact.

“Please, why? What’s going on?” You lamented, growing weary of his silence. “Just tell me. Why do you hate him? What did he do?”

Kage hit you again, more aggressive this time. You howled in pain as he held you still. His breaths came out in a huff as he calmed himself down. “Don’t act dumb. You’re his girlfriend. You know what he’s done.”

“I don’t!” You rebutted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Kage’s steel blue eyes flashed with something dangerous, his hand rubbing circles on your skin and smearing your blood across your flesh. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You were genuine, and Kage’s eyes narrowed as he considered you. “I’m sure you did some research before taking me. I’m just a girl.”

”What, your boyfriend didn’t brag of the lives he ruined? How he ruined our lives. We’re orphaned freaks because of him. Because the Asset couldn’t just do his fucking mission. But he had no problem doing his job just fine when he trained us, when he beat us to a bloody pulp making us wish were dead. Over and over and over again. Hydra’s fist hits fucking hard. And he leaves behind nothing but lost souls.” It’s the most you’ve heard Kage speak, but what he’s saying makes no sense to you. “The Asset doesn’t care about the wreckage he leaves behind as long as he’s happy – as long as he can continue on with his pathetic life.”

Bucky ruined lives? The surprise and confusion on your face said it all. From what you knew, he didn’t do anything. He was a prisoner of war, he was a soldier, but his involvement with Hydra was news to you. The most you’d heard of the organisation was from reports when the triskelion fell. It was broadcast everywhere. “He didn’t tell me anything. I only know who Hydra are from the news.”

Kage let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Stop lying."

"I'm not! I swear. He never told me. He doesn't tell anything about his missions either. H-He said he couldn't. That it was safer that way." You remembered the first time Bucky came home from a mission. He was covered in soot and a mess. Being naive, you asked him what happened, and it was then you realised it was better for you not to know. The horrors of the world were not for your eyes… until now.

Kage’s fingers gripped into the plushness of your ass. ”But you’ve been to the compound.”

“As a guest - a friend. Never when a mission was happening.” You sobbed, your brain spinning in circles at the new revelations. “I’ve been there for dinner or parties. Nothing else.”

His nails made divots in your skin as he gripped you. "You really had no idea?"

"No, I didn't. And I'm sorry. For all of you," you hiccupped. You couldn't lie about that. Losing family is never easy. "I didn't know."

Kage didn’t seem convinced. ”But you know of Hydra?”

You shrugged best you could over his knee. “Sort of. N-Not really. I just saw the news when those big helicopter things crashed - uh, helicarriers?” You let out a shuddered sigh. “The news said Hydra was behind it.”

His fingers eased, moving to rub over the sensitised skin. ”Did you read the documents that were leaked?”

You shook your head, tears dropping to the floor. “No, why would I do that? I didn’t need an existential crisis. I get stressed enough about everyday news, like a mugger or a cat stuck in a tree.”

"So he kept you in a bubble," he said after a moment, more to himself than to you. "If you're lying—"

"I'm not," you promised, almost dissolving into more tears. "I swear to you. All of you. I have no reason to lie to you."

There was a beat of silence while your mind ran a million miles an hour. Bucky was a prisoner of war, you knew that – the world knew that. But… he was with Hydra? You pursed your lips. There was no way he would have been with them willingly. He was a prisoner of Hydra, you surmised. He’d made comments in the past about never being in control until now – always being ordered around by someone else. Admittedly, you hadn’t taken it as literal. A soldier takes orders, but this – this seems entirely different. There’s no way Bucky would hurt someone unprovoked, not unless he was being controlled. The man you loved was no villain.

Kage broke the silence. ”Do you resent him for not telling you?”

A heavy sigh left you, pain still flickering up your spine from your abused ass. “It’s his story. I’m not the one who can decide when it’s time to tell it.”

"But he's the reason you're here,” Kage said as his hand ran up your back before reaching your shoulders, pulling you up and guiding you to sit in his lap.

You whimpered at the pressure on your bruised skin as you sat on Kage’s thighs. "Better me than another innocent person."

Kage’s face was close to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. ”You wouldn’t trade places with someone else?”

You tried to move back, to get some distance, but Kage held you firm. “No. I couldn’t bring myself to subject someone else to this kind of pain.”

He seemed to be searching for something in your eyes. "You don't like others hurting, do you?"

The question surprised you. "No, I don't. I've always tried to help others if I can."

Your answer has the air in the room changing, some of the coldness turning a bit warmer as Kage brushed away some of your tears. Your blood was still on his hands, and you eyed the redness of his fingers as he touched your face.

A tremble coursed through you when you heard footsteps approaching, and your attention turned to the doorway, where Damien emerged with a salve, some wipes and fresh clothes.

His expression had changed too. Where there was anger was now a new understanding. They really thought you knew what they’d been through, you realised. You glanced between the two men, uncomfortable and distressed. Their anger was ruthless, but you feared whatever this was more. Kage’s hands over your waist were firm, but with an edge of gentleness.

You didn’t want them to like you.

Maybe you should have just lied and said you knew. But that wasn’t you. You weren’t deceptive.

Kage lifted you easily, placing you face down on your cot, your face wetting the fresh sheets below you as you cried. The overstimulation of your body and mind hit like a freight train, and you sobbed like never before.

“Jesus, try to calm down. You’ll make yourself sick,” Damien tried to placate as he sat next to you, wiping away your blood before beginning to apply some ointment to your battered skin. “You really did a number, Kage.”

You glance over at the blonde, and he didn’t seem proud of himself. Quite the opposite. His jaw clenched. “Shut up.”

“Hey hey, I’m just trying to break the tension here.” Damien kept applying the ointment until your welts were covered. “You took your punishment well.”

You think he’s trying to compliment you, so you respond with your head buried in the sheets. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he quickly responded before finishing up.

Your mournful cries didn’t stop, and they only got worse when Kage and Damien finally left, leaving you alone. You dressed yourself in the plain tshirt and panties, before it all became too much and returned to the bed.

All your bottled-up emotions spilled out into the mattress. You screamed, your sounds muffled by the bedding, not stopping until your throat hurt and your voice was course.

The more emotion you let out, the more fatigued you became. And slowly, you began to pass out, crying yourself to sleep. All you could hope was this sleep was more restful, and less eventful than the last.

Thankfully, you didn’t dream this time. Your rest was no more than a limbo between horrors – horrors which seemed very intent on continuing, with Maddox stood with his arms crossed, watching you slumber as he leaned against the open doorframe. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You nearly jumped through the ceiling in fright at the sight of him, your whole body flinching as you sat up, your bruised ass instantly sore from the movement. “You didn’t.”

“Good.” He tilted his head, the anger he’d been sporting gone behind his normal demure expression. “So, I had a chat with the guys. Look, we thought you knew all about us. And now we realise you really are innocent in all this. We feel a bit bad about the whole situation, so we’re going to let you go home.”

It sounded like a foreign language as Maddox spoke, your heart skipping a beat. “You’re going to let me go?”

“Seems only fair. I think we’ve put you through enough,” Maddox shrugged nonchalantly.

“But you were so angry,” you cautiously observed Maddox. It felt like a trick, and it likely was one, but you couldn’t help the desire that smouldered in your heart. You could go home. More than anything you just desired to be comfortable in your own bed again, with your cat and the love of your life.

Maddox pushed himself off the doorframe and approached, the movement making you shuffle back on the mattress. He chuckled, shaking his head at your scurrying. “I have no intent of hurting you.”

“Surely you can’t blame me for being afraid,” you squeaked as he towered over you.

“Oh, not at all. I’ve given you more than enough reason. But here, truce?” Maddox offered his open palm for you to take, to help you stand. You stared at his hand for a moment, taking in the scarred skin. It looked like he held the sharp end of a knife more than once. They weren’t kidding about having been through pain.

Anxiety was a thick sludge in your throat as you placed your hand in his, allowing him to be a crutch for you as you got onto your feet. Your entire backside hurt like something fierce with each movement, but you tried to not show it too much on your face.

“Kage really let you have it, huh?” Maddox grinned, leading you out of the door and to the left, where Kage and Damien stood at the bottom of concrete stairs.

“Ready to go home?” Kage said as Damien took your free hand in his.

“Yes,” you blurted out honestly. “Are you… are you really going to let me go?”

“Of course. We may be assholes, but we’re not liars,” Damien chided, the warmth from his skin heating your hand.

“What about Bu– I mean, my boyfriend?” You questioned, making wobbly steps up the stairs towards what looked to be a basement door. Your suspicions were right - you were underground.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him. That’s our business to attend to,” Maddox grinned, but it was akin to a shark showing their teeth. There was danger in the way he spoke.

Distracted, you missed a step, but they were quick to catch you, all giving out a soft laugh before you made your way to the top of the stairs.

You had guessed that you were underground. What you hadn’t expected was that you were under a house. You emerged into an open-plan living room and kitchen with a rustic aesthetic.

“Do you like it?” Damien asked proudly. Clearly, he owned this place.

“... It’s nice.” You placated, taking your hand out of both Maddox and Damien’s grip. “I can.. just go?”

“Yes. Off you go. There’s a car outside waiting for you,” Damien said, and you could feel the soft rumble of a running engine through the floorboards.

You glanced back at the men, each of them looking expectantly at you. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before you turned around and bolted for the front door, despite your body hating every moment. Your feet were still healing, and with your bruised muscles, it was torture. But you wanted out. No, you needed out.

You reached the front door quickly, and when you turned the knob, your eyes went wide. It was locked tight. There were multiple bolts on the door, which all seemed unlocked, but when you looked down, you realised the front door had a finger scanner.

Reality began to set in when you placed your finger on the door and were met with a red flash and beeping. Access denied. “No... No, no, no. Not like this.”

You went to turn, but before you could, there was a sharp prick to your neck as one of the men plunged a needle into you. It became clear Maddox was your assailant as your legs went numb, and you tumbled to the ground with a gasp, seeing him standing behind you with dark eyes. Whatever the contents of the syringe were acted quickly, an odd floaty feeling spreading across your body as you lost control of your functions, your body stuck on its front on the cold hardwoods.

Their laughter became distorted as your brain fizzled, but you didn’t pass out. No, whatever they’d given you was keeping you awake, forced to watch as they circled your limp body. “She made it further than I thought she would with her injuries,” Damien smirked as he poked your side with his shoe.

“It’s cute in an utterly pathetic way.” Maddox used his boot to roll you onto your back before leaning down near your head. “Aw, is someone feeling a bit sleepy?” Unable to coil away, Maddox spit in your face with a cruel laugh. “C’mon, wake up, it’s playtime.”

Kage was next to torment you as you tried to roll yourself back onto your stomach to crawl away. His boot pressed painfully into your stomach, the steel tip digging in just below your ribcage. “Knock my foot away. Try it.”

You whined as you tried to use your arms to push him away, but you couldn’t. Your arms were like jelly.

“Mm, as fun as this is, we gotta move.” Maddox sighed as he straightened up, discarding the used needle out of your sightline.

You managed to get onto your stomach with Kage backing off, but all you could do was whimper as hands gripped your ankles, dragging you across the hardwoods and out the front door, your nose banging on the solid surface as you tried to dig your nails into the floor, but you had no strength left.

Your drool and blood from your now bleeding nose created a trail across the floor. At least if anyone found this home, there’d be evidence that you existed, your DNA staining the wood.

“Should we change her?” Damien asked, and from his voice, you could tell he was the one dragging you.

“She’ll be warm enough,” Maddox watched from the side as you were dragged to the porch stairs.

“God, she’s not going to piss in my car, is she?” Damien complained as Kage slung you over his shoulder, your body like a ragdoll, as he lifted you with scary ease.

“Just wrap a towel around her ass. It’ll do.” Maddox began putting bags in the back seat of the SUV parked outside.

Damien began to help him, but not without continuing to complain. “Just watch it. She already bled on my floor.”

Maddox laughed. “She bled all over her apartment and you didn’t even blink.”

“But that wasn’t my apartment,” Damien argued, a playful irritation in his tone.

They were having fun while tear droplets hit the gravel below you.

Maddox wasn’t giving up, though. ”You’re so materialistic sometimes, Dami.”

”When you pay for shit you can be too, Mads. Oh wait, you don’t pay for anything.”

”I’ve saved your ass enough times for payment.”

Kage sighed, his hand resting on your exposed ass. ”Would you two just shut up and help me get her in the car? I can do it myself, but then I’ll make sure blood and piss gets everywhere.”

Maddox sighed, too. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second. You leave the present in her cell?"

"Yeah. They'll find it."

You tried to speak, but only a groan came out.

"Try not to talk. It won't do you any good.” Kage said as Maddox helped him haul you into the trunk of the car.

”At first, we couldn’t get you to talk, and now you won’t shut up.” Maddox started to wrap a towel around your lower half. "Just put some music on and drown her out."

“You… lied…” You managed to get out amongst your drooling whimpers.

Kage leaned in, his hand caressing your cheek. “We didn’t. You are going home.”

“Just not to the home you hoped for,” Maddox chimed in, derisively patting your thigh. “Rest up, babydoll. There’s a long journey ahead of us yet.”

Kage and Maddox pulled back, and their faces were the last thing you saw before the boot was slammed shut, and you were covered in darkness.

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babyjakes · 9 months

Text

earn it. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | august '23 general requests blurb night

summary | if you want your daddy's cock, you're gonna have to earn it.

pairing | daddy!bucky barnes x little!reader

warnings | ddlg. fairly soft!daddy!bucky but he does force an orgasm out of reader. thigh riding. begging/pleading. fingering/clit play. (implied) multiple orgasms. overstimulation. praise. petnames. squirting. implied p in v.

word count | 308

requested by @vase-of-lilies | I'm excited about your event! If I could request a Bucky fic where the reader is super needy and just wants to ride his cock, but Bucky is a menace so he makes her ride his thigh first, then he takes super good care of her after being such a good girl for him, so she earns lots of overstimulation because she listened to him the first time! I hope that it is not too much or too little! I just love needy!reader and menace to society!Bucky lol!

an | okay soooo i haven't written for bucky in ages but i really really really wanted to write this request for you friend, thank you so much for sending it in 🥺🤍 i looove thigh riding and overstim so this was just the perfect little idea, thank you for sending it in and i hope you enjoy friend!!! <333

"Please Daddy, pretty please!"

"I'll be good for you, Daddy— I'll be sooo good if you let me!"

"Pleeease Daddy, need your cock! Need it in me, please, please, please!"

Your desperate words fall on deaf ears as your daddy bounces you on his bare thigh, his big hands supporting you by the waist as you sniffle and whine into his shoulder. "Shhh, pumpkin. C'mon, give me one more. Cum one more time for Daddy, and then you can have it, sweet girl."

"N-no Daddy, please," you beg again, your little hips jerking as he grinds you down more forcefully against his flexed thigh, the thick bands of his muscles hitting right up against your weakest spots.

"But you're doing so good, baby. So good for me, yeah? Just wanna see you cum one more time. You know how much I love seeing you fall apart like this. Doesn't it feel good, baby doll? Don't you like riding Daddy's thigh?"

"Y-ye-es Daddy, but—"

"Shhh," he shushes you again, reaching a hand down to move things along by rubbing your poor, puffy clit. Your hands dig into his shoulder blades as you squeeze your eyes shut, your head pounding as you hear Bucky whisper, "C'mon, baby. Let go for me. That's it..."

He coos loving praises as you squirt helplessly against his leg. He keeps rocking you on top of him as you ride the waves of your orgasm, letting out the sweetest little hums and moans against the familiar safety of his t-shirt.

"That's my girl," he murmurs proudly, kissing the side of your head as you float back down from your high. "Did so good for Daddy, 'm so proud of you, angel. Now let's get you all spread out on your back and ready for me, hmm? Think you've finally earned a good fucking from Daddy."

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navybrat817 · 5 days

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In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind down, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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funkybarnes · 8 months

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#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel #sebastian stan edit #capitan america #james buchanan barnes #fanfic #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fandom #imagine all the possibilities #i could write an essay on this #I will be writing a fanfiction for this pics #those steel blue eyes let you know where home is #pretty smile

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

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Be(tter) In Reality With Me | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

》 SUMMARY: Bucky needed to remind you how he would never ever betray you, especially when the him in your dreams was showing you otherwise.

》 WARNINGS: bad dreams/nightmares, pregnancy & baby stuff, mentions of: infidelity, miscarriage, anxiety, toxic past relationships; implied smut at the start (nothing graphic), pet names (doll, my love, sweetheart), overprotective!husband!bucky (he’s a hoverer), some hurt, so much comfort, very fluffy moments a.k.a. happy ending obvs.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

A/N: this is another unplanned one, like i really just started writing this a few days ago. well, i’ve been toying with the idea for a while but i just never got around to writing/thinking of the perfect premise for it. i coud’ve gone the crack route but you get angst instead. but anyway, this is barely proofread, idk how this turned out. and i know ‘husband fever’ isn't a thing but i honestly got it while writing this soooo hope you enjoy it too!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The disappointment was sharp in your chest as you trudged towards the front door of your home, fingers curled around an unopened envelope that felt heavier than any normal piece of paper should.

Your husband was supposed to be there with you.

Bucky was supposed to meet you at the clinic so you could find out your baby's gender together. But he hadn't been answering any of your messages or calls since this morning. Better yet, he'd been avoiding you all week. There had been more voicemails than there were replies. It was worrying because you two had been fine, things were normal the week before and now it felt as though he was avoiding you at all cost.

Yet the disappointment was quickly replaced by dread when you opened the front door.

The heels were what you saw first, a pair that you were sure wasn't yours. Even if there was a slightest chance that they were, they had no business being down here and not in your closet. Being pregnant, you hadn't worn heels in months.

Next were the scattered clothes, both familiar and not, a feminine scent lingering in the air that had your stomach turning in knots. They were the most horrid pieces of bread crumbs, one that you knew was leading you towards something vile and agonizing.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you ascended the stairs, each thump growing harsher to marry with your step. Your fingers trembled on your baby bump, the fluttering inside growing restless like a blaring alarm. When you reached the landing, that was when you heard it.

An enthusiastic creaking of the bed, salacious moans and grunts sinisterly harmonizing, unashamedly loud as if they weren't doing something so evil. It was deafening that you couldn't even hear your own heart shatter into pieces.

You wanted to turn around and leave, telling yourself that seeing the treacherous act would do more harm than good. But you didn't have control of your own body. You were pulling at your own hand, wanting to drag yourself away but to no avail as you kept walking.

The door was wide open when you reached it, shameless and uncaring of getting caught.

And you stood there, frozen, shattering into pieces as you watched your husband mold his naked body into another woman, his metal fingers tangled in her blonde hair, his hips driving back and forth recklessly, their faces contorted in pleasure while a picture of you and him on your wedding day stood on the nightstand.

It felt like a bullet to the heart when he lifted his head and met your eyes.

Gone were the soothing blues you'd called home, gone was the man you'd given your all, who you'd grown to love, to trust.

There were only dark gray hues laced with no guilt, no remorse, a face resembling the love of your life but was truly the Devil incarnate.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in quick succession, bile and air stuck in your throat, your heart stopping as something warmer, thicker with a metallic scent trickled down your leg.

He grinned.

You gasped.

•••

Bucky noticed how you'd been short with him lately.

Your kisses were less enthusiastic, his touches or any form of affection were being brushed off, your conversations turning brief, other times barely happening at all.

He tried to reason that you simply needed space, that maybe he was overbearing, overstimulating your senses by hovering around you too much. But, really, who could blame him for taking care of you and making sure his pregnant wife was healthy and safe?

But it was at night that his concern turned to suspicion, when you were facing away from him when you slept, muttering and mumbling, restless. It was when you'd flinch in surprise when he'd wake you up, eyes dazed with something else other than drowsiness. He'd ask you what was wrong, and each time you'd shake your head wordlessly and attempt to go back to sleep.

He remained patient though. It was the least he could do, especially in your state.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't downright worried, especially when he found something uncanny about your behavior.

Bucky expected your irritability and annoyance. You snapping at him for something so mundane was a common thing he'd been facing lately and had certainly no qualms over. Your mind, emotions, and body were going through a lot and in waves, it was the bare minimum for him to understand. So he never took your harsh glares and clipped tones to heart.

But what was uncanny was the look of doubt, followed by a flicker of fear and then the heartbreak that would cross your face. It was in split seconds, when you see him on the phone, when he was out longer than he'd promised after getting you one of your weird cravings, when he came back late at night after a spontaneous outing with the guys when Wanda and Nat all but kicked him out since it was their turn to pamper you.

Bucky had a feeling that something was wrong. He simply couldn't put a finger as to what.

The nagging voice in the back of his head only grew when Sam and Sarah were in town. It was a surprise visit, so they didn't catch you in time.

You were already out with your mother, a rocky relationship that you hoped would start to mend over baby clothes and strollers.

"Bucky! Come on!" Sarah groaned playfully when he refused to tell them the gender of the baby.

He wanted you to disclose it, and he certainly wasn't going to do it without you by his side. You found out together, it was only fair you tell people the news together, too.

The harsh slam of the front door silenced everyone.

Bucky knew it was you right away, rushing to meet you in the hallway when he heard the intensity of your heartbeat and the sharpness of your breaths, footsteps hurried as if you'd been running.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, his heart clenching at the sight of your stricken features. "What's wrong?"

It took you a minute to respond, eyes flickering between his face and over his shoulder, like you were looking for something. Bucky watched your body slowly relax when Sam and Sarah followed closely behind him.

It only confused him more.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, thumb stroking your warm cheek as he gently placed the other on your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I thought—" You shook your head, finally meeting his eyes with a sad smile. "Mom canceled last minute."

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pulling you into his arms, kissing the top of your head when you let out a shaky breath, cheek pressed on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bucky knew how you were truly looking forward to this day. You'd been carefully dividing your lists into two so you could buy things with your mother and then with him, too.

"We'll just get those on our shopping trip, okay?" he murmured against your crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Glancing behind him, he added with a lighter tone, "Or you can give Sam the list and he'll just gift us everything."

"Oh I would gladly do it," The self—not really—proclaimed uncle agreed. "If Buckaroo here will finally tell us whether we're having a niece or a nephew."

Bucky scoffed, "You know you can choose gender-neutral colors, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about colors," Sam said, grinning. "I'm talking about quantity."

"Are you saying the niece gets more?" you asked with a soft laugh as you pulled away. The sound brushed away Bucky's worry, if only briefly, as he felt the tension leave your body. Still, his arm remained on your waist as you turned to your guests, his thumb rubbing soft circles as a means of comfort.

"Obviously," Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Gotta treat her like a princess."

"Can't argue with that." Bucky turned to you with an encouraging nod. "You want to put them out of their misery?"

"Well, you're having…" you trailed off, smile widening, eyes twinkling as a joyful glow kissed your face. The exact reason why Bucky loved letting you tell the news and being there when you did so. "A nephew."

The contrast between the siblings' reactions was amusing. Sarah erupted into a cheer resembling happiness and victory, while Sam all but threw his head back with a groan. Bucky still saw his friend try his best to hide a smile, though.

"I told you!" Sarah playfully smacked his brother on the arm. "A mother's intuition is never wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, before turning to you with a proud grin, arms wide open. "Come here you."

You chuckled as you walked into his embrace, mumbling a soft "Thank you" at his congratulations. Sarah hugged you next, all teary yet happy smiles and sweet words as you both wandered to sit in the living room, the mother of two boys already gushing to you about endless advice.

"I'm happy for you man," Sam said as he pulled Bucky into a hug, patting his back before pulling away with narrowed eyes. "You better be taking care of her."

"Of course I am," Bucky scoffed, turning to watch you with a fond smile as you chatted animatedly, excitement evident in your well-being. "Hell, she might even be getting annoyed with my overbearing ass."

"Well, it's better to be overbearing than absent," Sam stated.

Bucky couldn't agree more.

Because fine, maybe he was being too much by always keeping an eye out for you even though you were safe and sound, lounging on the couch as Sam started pestering you about naming the baby after him. But if he wasn't, then he would've missed the way your smile slipped from time to time, shoulders slumping with exhaustion before you'd catch yourself and sit straight up and pretend your energy was still high.

He was thankful that Sam was perceptive enough to catch it too, along with the hints Bucky was throwing his way. So they cut their visit short, understanding that you needed to get some rest even if you hadn't explicitly said so.

Bucky was right on his call when the second the front door shut closed, your body visibility deflated, the day finally catching up with you.

He was probably hovering like a goddamn helicopter, trailing behind you when you did as much as walk from the living room to the bathroom, and then waiting for you outside the door. But if he hadn't, he would've missed your soft sniffles on the other side and the far-away look in your eyes once he'd checked on you twice after taking way too long inside than how you normally took.

If Bucky hadn't been overbearing, he would've missed the signs that something was bothering you, like something was eating away at your conscience.

"Hey, come here," he called for you later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning you closer with his hands outstretched. Tangling your fingers together, he pulled you to stand in front of his opened legs, kissing your bump before resting his cheek on it, looking up at you with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, attempting to smile but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

That only made his worry grow more.

It was something he'd noticed lately, too, how you'd been having trouble sleeping, much less, staying asleep. Most of the time, once you were comfortable in bed, it only took you a minute or two before you were out like a light.

At first, Bucky thought it was because you were nearing the end of your second trimester. It was to be expected, according to the countless pregnancy books he'd buried his face in and the weekly pregnancy calendar he found on the internet—which showed how big the baby was, what symptoms you were likely to feel and ways to aid you through it, how many weeks there were left, exercises to keep you comfortable and healthy and so on—he used as a guide.

But he didn't think nightmares were supposed to be part of it.

Bucky knew they weren't merely innocent dreams because you were always so shaken when he'd wake you up. There was always a sting settling in his chest when you'd pull away from his touch for a good few moments, eyes avoiding his as you tried to catch your breath. You'd only crawl back into his arms once your heart had settled into a calm rhythm, the haze in your irises never truly gone but faded.

You never told him what your dreams consisted of and Bucky never pushed.

He couldn't. Not with the risk of upsetting you even more. All he could do was remain patient. He knew you would tell him eventually.

Bucky just wished it didn't have to take your breaking point for that to happen.

•••

The mumbling was what stirred him awake.

Bucky quickly sat up to check on you, his frown growing deeper once he saw your features littered with distress.

Yet before he had the chance to gently take you away from your troubled slumber, you suddenly shot up with a distressed shout,

"No!"

Your sobs immediately hit his ears, your frantic hands pulling the sheets away as if they were suffocating you. Your body trembled, chest heaving as you hastily checked your bump before you trailed your fingers down your inner thighs, bringing them up to your line of sight as if you were expecting to see something horrible coating your skin.

Dread clutched at Bucky's heart when the inkling as to what you expected to see evaded his mind.

"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands in an attempt to snap you out of your panic. Tear-filled eyes met his and his heart broke at the utter fear and agony that covered your face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, never looking away as he kept one cold hand on your burning and wet cheek and took yours with the other. He pressed your palm above his heart, hoping that it would help ground you.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, inhaling deeply, encouraging you to follow, exhaling once you did. He took your other hand and pressed it against his jaw, letting his warm breath flow over your palm to help aid you in steadying your breathing. "That's it, my love, breathe with me."

Bucky repeated the action as many times he could, marrying it with encouraging words, only stopping when he could hear your heart slow to a steady beat.

"Y-You—" You choked back a whimper, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I-I'm okay."

It sounded more like a question than it was a statement to Bucky.

"You're okay," he reassured firmly, kissing your forehead and steadying your shaking hands over your stomach. "You both are."

Silence covered the room aside from your deep breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets following suit as Bucky shifted to sit behind you, guiding you between his legs until your back was pressed against his chest. You rested all your weight on him, his hands covering your own as he coaxed them to move in slow circles over your stomach. He littered your shoulder with soft kisses, trailing up the side of your neck then your cheek, moving back down as he whispered sweet reassurances.

"You wouldn't do that to me, w-would you?" you asked after a moment.

"Do what, my love?"

Your voice came out as a broken whisper, as if you were scared to say it any louder, as if it would come true if you did.

"Cheat on me."

Bucky's answer was immediate.

"No." He gently turned you around in his arms, your legs thrown over his thigh as you sat sideways. Taking your face in his hand, he nudged the tip of your nose with his to get you to look at him, to let you see the truth in his eyes, emotions bared and unhidden. "I would never."

You nodded meekly before dropping your head, his lips touching your crown.

"Sweetheart, hey," he whispered, fingers finding your chin to prevent you from hiding again. His frown deepened when you met his gaze, the pain and conflict coating your dulled irises doing nothing to ease his worries. "Where is this coming from?"

But with one look at your trembling form and troubled eyes, Bucky's heart sank at the realization.

"Doll…" He took a deep breath, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Is this what you've been dreaming of lately?"

Bucky never expected for such a small nod to break his heart so much.

"I-I watched you and—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, shaking his head vehemently, kissing the tip of your nose, and then each of your eyelids. "You don't have to tell me right now. I don't want you to dwell on it for too long."

"I have to get out," you whispered yet your tone was adamant, fingers starting to nervously fiddle with his vibranium ones.

Bucky hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to stress you out more than you already were. But when you squeezed his hand reassuringly, he sighed, offering you a small yet supportive smile. "Okay. But don't force it, please, sweetheart. I don't want you getting upset even more."

You nodded.

Bucky listened.

He listened with bated breath as you recounted your dreams, his heart tearing itself apart, piece by piece with each gruesome detail you managed to stutter out. Heels. Clothes. Stairs. Sounds. Bedroom. Bodies. Picture Frame.

Bucky made sure to remind you to take your time and take deep breaths, it's just a bad dream, wiping away your tears as he held you close in his arms, you're my everything, littering whichever part of you he could reach with soft kisses to remind you were here, present in reality with him, and that you're okay.

Bucky never thought he'd feel inhumane anger over a version of himself that wasn't and would never be part of reality. He'd honestly die first. Yet, even then, he still couldn't picture subjecting you to such awful betrayal and hurt.

If he could jump into your dreams and excruciatingly make that asshole pay, no matter if it was some version of him, he would do it over and over and over again. No questions asked.

"And t-then there was b-blood," you took a sharp breath, a knife into Bucky's chest as fresh tears escaped your eyes, your grip around his hand tightening. "I-I lost our—"

"That's enough," Bucky interrupted, voice soft yet hoarse as a lump lodged itself in his throat, blinking away his unshed tears. With one hand on the back of your head, he pressed his lips against your brow. "It's just a nightmare, sweetheart."

"It f-felt so real," you choked back a sob, shaking your head as if you were hoping it would rid the images away.

"This is real," Bucky said, placing your palm on his cheek, the other on your baby bump with his own hands covering yours. "You're okay. Our baby boy is okay. We are going to be okay."

You nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths as you brought his palm to your lips. You kissed it a few times, three more before you wrapped his arms around your form, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck.

"I would never do that to you," he murmured against the side of your head, rubbing gentle circles on your back. "You trust me, right?"

"I do!" you said, eyes frantically looking into his with all the reassurance you could muster despite your tiredness, lips trembling as you repeated, "I trust you with everything that I have. I trust you with my life, Buck—"

He nodded. He knew you did. He didn't feel any ounce of uncertainty in your voice, didn't see any assumption that he was capable of being unloyal in your eyes. Maybe that was where your conflict came from, your heart battling with the lies your subconscious was feeding you.

This wasn't about the strength of your trust in him. This was something else entirely.

"Who put this in your head, hmm?"

Bucky knew you well enough, how you sometimes got too into your overthinking mind. Your past relationships definitely contributed to that fact. Toxicity to downright emotional abuse and various infidelities from previous boyfriends, it was no surprise that you came out of those relationships scarred.

You went to therapy when you finally had the resources to, and Bucky was always there to support you, told you it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he was going to individual sessions himself, much less frequently compared to his earlier years, but the path to healing was never linear. He even suggested couples counseling—once a month at best, twice on the bad ones. Not because something was broken with your relationship, but only as a tool to be able to understand each other more, to keep things healthy between you both.

It helped tremendously.

You'd grown to shine brighter each day, letting yourself be free of the doubtful voices and instead accept and own that you were deserving to be loved, strongly, loyally, and unconditionally.

Now, after being together for eight years—three in a relationship and five years of marriage—you and Bucky were stronger, healthier, happier. And with a baby boy on the way, he knew it would only strengthen your bond, adding more joy and love to your little family.

But recently, your pregnancy hadn't been easy on your mental state. With your body preparing itself to welcome new life into this world, to your hormones fluctuating, it only heightened your emotions, and that included the bad ones.

So it wasn't far-fetched for your anxious thoughts to grow like weeds in your head, unrelenting and parasitic with no means of stopping unless you pluck it out from the root. But for the first sprout to emerge, someone had to have planted that seed first.

"Remember when I went on that 'girl's night in' get-together?"

Bucky sighed. That was two weeks ago. He should've known that your quietness when you got home was something to be worried about. Even more when it was roughly the same time you started having trouble sleeping. To think that you had to deal with your dreams alone for that long—

He pulled you closer, rubbing your arms with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember Karla?"

Bucky remembered her too. He only met her once when you brought him as your plus one to her engagement party. Now, he wasn't the type of person who was quick to pass judgment on people, especially at the first meeting. But first impressions? She hadn't exactly been the best, too forward and sometimes, rude for Bucky's liking. But she was your friend, so he let it slide.

"She arrived late. She was already very drunk and distraught," you continued once Bucky confirmed with a nod. "We immediately tried to console her, get her to calm down, but she just wouldn't let go of the bottle of whisky, started grabbing the wine the girls were having and chugging it down too. Turns out, she walked in on her fiancé with her best friend in their living room."

Bucky pressed his lips against your crown with a sigh, rubbing circles on your back as he let you pick at the metal plates of his arm. It was a nervous habit. Yet you also said it was comforting, grounding, getting to feel the coldness of the prosthetic.

"Then she looked at me and saw my bump—God that dress didn't really hide much, huh?" you chuckled, voice void of humor.

Bucky loved that dress on you, and he showed you just how much before driving you to that get-together. It was a shame that the memory was now tainted.

"B-But, I don't know, it was probably because I was the only married one in our group, o-or she was just that drunk but she started targeting me," you paused with a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a shake of your head as fresh tears gathered on your waterline.

"She started yelling at me and telling me that I was rubbing it in her face, what she could've had. And then she started screaming how you would do the same any day now, if you weren't already doing it because it was obvious you won't like it that my body is changing and getting bigger a-and that you'd find some slimmer model and she told me to leave you before it's too late and I just—"

Bucky felt hot white rage grip him.

He couldn’t care less what other people's opinions of him were. With what his past life was, he learned not to let it get to him. He should feel insulted, to hear the disrespect against his morals to downright questioning his loyalty to his wife, especially from someone he couldn't give a shit about.

But he wasn't mad about that. Oh no.

He was furious about what you had to endure.

The audacity of someone to make you upset and stressed, especially in your current condition, had him outraged. No one, absolutely no one had the right to raise their voice, much less, fucking yell at you. He didn't care if it was the president of some country, a powerful alien or a close family friend—

Nobody disrespects his wife.

"You know none of that is true," he said as calmly as he could despite wanting to give that 'friend' of yours a piece of his mind. Cupping your face with both hands, he brushed his thumbs against the corner of your lips. "Hell, I showed you how much I love your changing body earlier that day in the kitchen, didn't I?"

That managed to coax a giggle from you, faint and teary but he still took it as a win.

"Look, what happened to your friend was awful. I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone," he said, jaw clenching. "But for her to bring you down with her while you're pregnant? That's just cruel."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly, pressing his palm on your lips. "I shouldn’t have let her words get to me."

"Sweetheart, no, you did nothing wrong," Bucky insisted. "Your emotions are all over the place as is, your hormones even more. And I know how impressionable you get when your anxiety is high and, fuck, you must've been so stressed when she basically berated you in front of everyone I just—" He took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against yours. "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I was worried you'd take it the wrong way," you admitted shakily. "Because I do trust you, but things got loud in my head and I just—"

"I know," he hummed, smiling reassuringly. "I know, doll. You don't have to explain it to me."

You sighed, nodding, your body slowly relaxing with a hint of a grateful smile touching your lips. And with the weight slowly falling off your shoulders, your drowsiness followed suit—the fluttering of your eyelids, the calmness of your breaths as you all but rested on him.

Bucky fluffed your pregnancy pillow before gently guiding you to a comfortable position, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose before pressing his lips gently onto yours. He hummed at your satisfied sigh, hands caressing your body, pouring as much of his love into every simple touch as he could muster.

"You're my whole world, my everything," he whispered to you and you only, the person who matters to him the most. "I would never put myself in a position where I'd even risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky's brows furrowed when he felt a flutter against his palm where he'd rested it on your bump.

"I think someone's a little jealous," you teased softly, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Now, we can't have that," he chuckled, shifting his body until he was face-to-face with your belly. He pulled at your shirt, revealing your skin before littering each part and stretch marks with loving kisses. Smiling, he corrected himself, "One of the best things that's ever happened to me."

His grin grew wider as you started carding your fingers through his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this, resting on your bump with your loving touches.

"Say, you're going to kick my ass if I hurt Mama, wouldn't you, squirt?" he murmured against your tummy, his heart lurching when he felt a faint kick. Bucky gaped at you, chuckling at your giggles before pressing his lips back on your skin. "Gonna be a mama's boy I can already tell."

"I love you," you said, eyes glistening but with the smile that graced your face, Bucky knew they were happy tears this time.

"And I love you," he hummed, resting his cheek on your bump to meet your gaze, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. "Both of you."

•••

"Doll, you don't have to do this."

"They're going to be here in an hour."

"I know but you shouldn't be on your feet too much."

"Exercise is good for pregnant women," you said, tilting your head at your husband with a knowing grin. "You told me that, according to the books you've read."

"I know what I said," Bucky groaned, hands finding your hips as he tried to gently steer you to sit on the chair, again. "But in moderation, you've been standing for—"

"Five minutes since you last made me sit down," you giggled, continuing to set up the dinner table with the snacks and appetizers you had set up. The main meal was kept warm in the oven.

It was your turn to host the get-together your friend group had once a month. And being in your third trimester, you were unable to stay up too late. So you opted on having a small brunch instead of the usual nightly gathering.

"Then, let me take care of the rest, please?" he begged, wrapping his arms around your form to stop your movements, lips pressed on the thin strap of your sundress. And if he wasn't overly cautious about your well-being, he probably would've already carried you to bed to let you rest. "Just sit and order me around."

Now, who could deny that offer?

Bucky was a great husband.

You knew this and he had done nothing but actively prove that to you time and time again.

You knew you shouldn't have let yourself get to a point of spiraling deep into your anxious thoughts that they started to affect your dreams somehow. But it honestly got overwhelming so quickly that you didn't get the chance to snap out of it. Worse yet, it made you dig the hole deeper and deeper by keeping it to yourself.

It was a lapse in judgment and, as Bucky had said, your emotions were all over the place. Not to mention, the situation wasn't at all pleasing, getting yelled at in front of an audience was awful already, a recipe for anxious disaster. What more if your hormones were making everything ten times worse?

Your friend simply caught you at the wrong moment.

The same friend that was going to be coming over in a few minutes.

You didn't tell Bucky yet because you knew he would never let her into the house. But you were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was drunk and hurting that night, emotions probably driving her rash decisions. Granted you hadn't spoken to her since, but she probably didn't mean what she had said.

Or so you thought.

After shooting you an admonishing look when he recognized who walked into the door last, Bucky was back in Pilot Mode.

It's what you named his hovering because he did go into certain modes when taking care of you, even if he argued otherwise. And despite having agreed that he was going to give you and the girls space—and he had been sulking in his office as he watched whatever game there was on—it rapidly changed when the party moved to your backyard.

The sun was at its peak in the clear blue sky, warmth evident in the air despite sitting under the shade of the large patio umbrella Bucky installed himself.

First, it was pulling you aside for some sunscreen, lathering your skin up as he lectured you about taking sips of water every now and then to stay hydrated and to go back inside if it got too hot. Then, it was standing in the kitchen, right by the open window where he had a clear view of you, discreetly observing even though his large stature was making him so obvious. Your friends had giggled about it since most did find it endearing. That last one was him bursting out of the backdoor with a cold glass of water and a clean towel in hand, wiping away any sweat that littered your skin and urging you to drink, parting away with a chaste yet loving kiss.

It was what made Karla snap.

"God, I can't believe you still fall for that shit," she scoffed once your husband had gone back inside. "Like, seriously, have you ever heard of love bombing?"

Everyone went silent at that.

"He's overprotective," you countered, though you could already start to feel your heart rate start to increase.

"More like he's overcompensating for something," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "He was a trained assassin back in the day, wasn't he? Surely he'd learned a thing or two about hiding secrets."

"Karla, drop it," Grace, a friend truly close to you, hissed with a sharp glare.

"I'm trying to save her from yet another heartbreak," she argued, before turning to you. "Like we all know how gullible and naïve you can get, a few romantic gestures and you're already blinded. I mean, considering your track record of cheaters, you should already know the signs. I know I see them with how your husband's been doting on you. It's the same thing the asshole did to me."

Your hands shook as you held the glass of water tighter, tears threatening to spill as you gritted, "Bucky is not the same—"

"Jesus, you need to open your eyes!" Karla interrupted. "I never expected you to still be this stupid—"

"That's enough."

Bucky's voice boomed through the air, his looming presence immediately behind you with a protective arm around your waist. Emotions at a high, you didn't even realize you stood up from your seat. You tried catching his gaze, but he was glaring at Karla who had now quieted down, shrinking in her place.

"I don't care about your assumptions about my morals and character because your opinion doesn't matter to me. So say whatever you want to say about me. But the second you disrespect my wife—" Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, reeling back his anger when he felt your hand on his arm.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at you. You shook your head, not wanting to make this any bigger. He sighed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and then your ring before turning to Karla.

"I love making my wife happy, and she'd been looking forward to this get-together to catch up with friends. But she isn't supposed to be around any kind of stressors during her pregnancy," he said, glare dead set on your so-called friend, voice dropping as he gritted, "So get out of my fucking house."

"Buck—"

"Doctor's orders, my love. I can call her right now if you want." He gave you a sweet, knowing smile. You nodded because you knew there was no point arguing with him. Bucky turned to your friend when she refused to move. "Well? Do you want me to drag you out?"

Karla gaped at everyone, waiting for someone to protest, huffing and puffing when she found no support. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and for the front door to slam shut.

The silence hung in the air for a good minute.

"Good fucking riddance," Grace scoffed, the tension breaking as a chorus of agreement came out from everyone. "I honestly don't get why you still invited her."

"Too kind for her own good," Bucky said, raising his brow at you. You shook your head at him with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"You're in your guard dog mode again," you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying it. That only made you grin wider.

"Well, this is supposed to be a girls' thing so I'll leave you ladies to your own devices." He nodded at everyone, giving you a sweet peck on the lips before making his way back into the house, even though you knew he was only going back to his station in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, everyone started gushing at you.

"You're so lucky but God you deserve it!"

"Girl, you need to set me up with a friend of his, like surely they're going to be roughly the same, right?"

"Honestly, I'm glad you're getting your happy ever after."

"Does he use that deep voice on you in bed?"

"Oh my god!" you squeaked at the last one, covering your warm face with your palms. When you peeked between your fingers, the girls were all looking at you with expectant grins, brows wriggling. You sighed, "Maybe."

They all erupted into delighted laughs at that, the conversation turning into a slightly salacious turn as they started trading in stories—both good and horrendous—and asking you for some advice on how to keep a guy satisfied or even just to spill the beans on what you and your husband get up to in bed.

Obviously, you didn't kiss and tell—well, not in too much detail. You still couldn't help but sing Bucky's praises. Of course you had to give credit where credit is due.

It was a few moments in when you caught Bucky's gaze in the open window. His wink and that handsome yet smug—his ego inflated that's for sure—smile was enough to tell you that he was listening in like the goddamn nosy super soldier that he was.

You rolled your eyes, yet your joyous smile wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Because to be in reality with James Buchanan Barnes, your husband, the love of your life, was way better than any dream you could ever have.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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