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vbecker10 · 2 days

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What Prank?

Laundry Day (Loki x female reader Y/N)

How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)

Loads of a Fun (Bucky x female reader Y/N)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky plan a week's worth of pranks to get back at Sam for telling Bucky the toaster was voice activated. A few days in, several members of the team decide to join in on the pranks without even questioning who is behind it.

A/N: So in Laundry Day (linked above) I wrote an off hand little comment about how much laundry Bucky needed to do and it led to Loads of Fun (also linked above). In that one, I mentioned a joke Sam pulled on Bucky and based on a poll I did, people wanted Bucky to get back at him so here we are 💚

This is not the same Y/N from Laundry Day & How Could This Not Fit?!, this is a different one. Apparently a bunch of women in the Tower have the same name as you (haha sorry that's dumb but I wanted them both to be Y/N fics so here we are)

Bucky's arm settles around your waist and he pulls you closer to him on the couch as you shut your laptop. "That's everything," you tell him with a triumphant smile.

"I really appreciate all of your help with this," he tells you and you turn to look at him. "I never would have even thought to do any of this myself."

"I'm happy to help. I hate when people mess with someone I like," you respond.

"Wait, you like me?" he asks jokingly.

You hit him lightly with a pillow, "I think I've made myself awkwardly clear about that."

He laughs and takes the pillow from you easily, "I'm just checking because I like you too." He moves his hand to the back of your neck and kisses you, when he pulls away he smirks and says, "You're an evil genius, you know that right?"

You giggle, "You have no idea."

Day 1

You sit at your desk, watching the clock closely as you wait for Sam's call. Ten minutes after 8, he finally reaches out and you answer professionally, "Stark Industries Technical Support, this is Y/N, how can I help you this morning?"

"Hi Y/N, it's Sam Wilson. There's something wrong with my ID badge I think, or my entry panel maybe. I'm not sure but I can't get into my office," he tells you.

"Oh no, that's not good. I'm going to put you on hold for a few moments while I look into this for you," you tell him and he says okay. After refilling your bottle with water from the kitchen down the hall, you take him off hold. "Hi Sam, sorry that took so long. Computer is a bit slow this morning," you make up an excuse and he asks if you figured out what's wrong with his door. "Yes, looks like we need to run a quick update on your entry panel. Should be about five minutes or so," you lie easily.

"Okay, thanks," he says but you can hear the annoyance in his voice before he hangs up.

You go back to checking your emails and five minutes later, you unlock Sam's office with a smile. Your phone vibrates, alerting you to a new text from Bucky, he has gotten so much better at sending them in the last few days.

You laugh at the thought of Sam being that annoyed and send him a quick text back.

As if on cue, your office phone rings. "Hi Y/N, it's me again," he says in a defeated tone. "I can't log into my computer."

"Well aren't you having the worst luck this morning," you tell him. You pretend to type loudly so he can hear it, "Looks like your password expired. I'll set you up with a new temporary one and then you should be good to go." He tells you thanks again and you wish him luck before hanging up.

Fifteen minutes later, your phone rings a third time. "Its Sam again," he says as soon as you answer. "There's something wrong with my computer now. I can't get my email to open and all my programs are freaking out."

"Oh no... I see what the issue is," you say dramatically and he sighs over the phone. "It looks like your computer needs to do a pretty massive update." He asks you how massive and you respond, "About an hour... maybe an hour and a half."

As soon as you and Sam hang up, Pepper calls him and he immediately knows he's in for a long day. "Did you finish the reports for the briefing this afternoon?" she asks.

"Not yet, I've been having a lot of really weird tech issues today," he explains. "IT is on it but it's going to take a while to get me up and running."

"That's unfortunate," she says but there is no sympathy in her voice. "I suggest you work through lunch if needed, those reports were supposed to be on my desk last night."

"I'll get them done," he promises then hangs up. With a loud groan, he drops his head heavily on his desk.

Day 2

Sam complains to Steve and Bucky about all of his computer issues while on their way to his office. He opens the door and Bucky jokes, "Sounds like the tech gods were really pissed off at you, huh?"

"I guess, it really was the weirdest thing," Sam says shaking his head. Bucky and Steve each take a seat and Sam goes to sit behind his desk. As soon as he relaxes into his chair, the seat detaches from the base and he falls to the ground with a loud scream of surprise.

Sam gets up quickly from the floor as his friends come around to the other side of the desk. "Someone is messing with me," he declares over Bucky's laughter.

"Why would anyone do that?" he asks, trying to compose himself. "Not like you've ever pranked anyone around here and would deserve a little revenge."

"Not helpful Buck," Steve rolls his eyes. "Are you okay Sam?"

"Yea," he answers while he examines the chair. "Did you do this?"

"Me?" Bucky asks in response. "I can't even figure out how to use the toaster. How would I have broken into your office?"

Sam is obviously unconvinced and also on the right track. Last night after dinner, you unlocked Sam's office so Bucky could remove almost all of the screws from his chair. That wasn't the only prank you set in motion last night though. As per your plan, Bucky suggests they call maintenance for a new chair and get coffee while they wait.

Tony walks into the kitchen a few moments after the three of them and asks if they like the new coffee maker he just got. Sam pushes the button to make a medium size cup and turns to face him, "First time trying it out."

"Well be nice to it," Tony warns in a joking manner. "I had to lie to Pepper about how much the damn thing cost me but it's worth it for a perfect cup of-"

Tony's words are cut off my Sam swearing as the coffee begins to spill everywhere. The mug overflows and leaks all over the marble counter. Sam tries to press the off button to stop it but it continues to pour out.

"Don't hit it, just press it gently," Tony grumbles as he moves quickly towards his new favorite appliance.

"I am pressing it gently, it's not working," Sam says in a slightly panicked tone as the coffee spills onto the floor.

"How much coffee can that thing make?" Steve asks in shock as he backs up from the growing puddle.

Bucky shakes his head, his hand over his mouth to cover his laughter as he watches the scene unfold. He takes out his phone and sends you a text.

Tony unplugs the uncooperative machine from the wall and looks angrily at Sam, "Do not touch this again."

"I barely touched it this time!" he counters as he moves away from the massive mess of spilled coffee. "I told them, someone is messing with me."

You reply back after pulling up the live feed.

<🤣🤣 Bonus points for Tony being so annoyed!>

"And how would this mystery person know you were going to use the coffee maker next?" Tony asks with his arms crossed.

"I have no idea," Sam sighs, rubbing his face.

"Just get back to work," he says, "And quit being so damn paranoid."

Day 3

Your head rests against Bucky's chest, his arm holding you comfortably as you watch a movie in his room. Half way through the movie, Bucky's phone begins to vibrate on the coffee table. "Hey Sam, what's-" Bucky answers but you can hear Sam yelling faintly over him.

"Put it on speaker," you whisper and he looks at you confused. You smile and take the phone, showing him how to change the setting and he nods as the background noise becomes louder.

"I can barely hear you," Bucky says and you cover your mouth to keep quiet.

"I said, my apartment is going crazy!" Sam yells over the sound of the TV and other appliances.

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks, his voice serious. He keeps his eyes on you and you try not to giggle.

"I don't know! I flipped the switch for the lights and the TV turned on full volume. I tried to turn it off but the remote doesn't work. The volume buttons control the air conditioner, the power button opens and closes my blinds, I even tried going in the menu but it turned on my freaking blender. How does that even happen?" he asks frantically.

"I have no idea what you want me to do," Bucky says and you shrug dramatically as if you don't know what is causing it either. "Sounds like your place is possessed," he adds. You giggle and he holds the phone away from himself to place a quick kiss on your cheek.

"I tried to call tech support but they are closed for the night," he explains. "Did you ever get the number for the woman in IT you know?"

"Who?" Bucky plays dumb.

He groans and you can hear the vacuum turn on, he must have tried another button on the reprogrammed remote. "The one you keep telling us is cute! Y/N, right? I talked to her the other day about my computer stuff," Sam says as the TV volume increases and decreases at random.

He blushes, he had forgotten he told Steve and Sam he wanted to talk to you weeks ago. "No, I chickened out of talking to her," he lies.

"Of course you freaking did!" Sam yells and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, "Screw this I'm gonna sleep in the common room tonight."

Bucky hangs up and tosses his phone back onto the table. You tap his shoulder with a smirk, "So... you think I'm cute, huh?"

He laughs, "Very." He kisses you and you lean into him as his arms wrap around you.

You curl up against him on the couch again then sit up suddenly. "What's wrong?" he asks when you get up.

You open your backpack and look over at him, "I brought my laptop... I can turn off the stuff in his room so if anyone checks, everything will be fine."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he laughs and you kiss him when you sit next to him again.

Day 4

Sam finishes adjusting his suit as he walks into the training room with Clint, Bucky and Scott. Tony checks a few settings on his control panel while Thor and Loki finish up their sparing session.

When the door closes Loki chuckles and turns his attention from his brother to Sam. "I heard you had quite the night," the God of Mischief smirks.

"Seriously, even Loki knows?" Sam throws his hands on the air.

"I think the whole tower knows you think you someone is pulling weird pranks on you," Scott chimes in.

"I'm not paranoid," Sam says. "Someone here is out to get me."

"That sounds like something a paranoid person would say," Loki shrugs and Thor laughs loudly at his comment.

"I don't like agreeing with Reindeer Games but he has a point," Tony jokes, ignoring the side eye from Loki at his least favorite nickname.

"Fine, whatever," Sam gives up. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Yep," Tony agrees and motions for everyone to get back a bit so Sam can spread the wings on his new gear. He puts his goggles on and turns around, checking to see that everything is in place but his focus shifts when everyone beaks out into laughter.

"What now?" Sam asks, turning back to face the group.

"Nothing, I think we all just like the new look," Bucky says with a smile.

"What the hell?" Sam exclaimes when he catches sight of the back of his wings in the windows.

Bucky snaps a picture, thankful you showed him how to do that a few days ago, and sends it to you.

You open the picture of Sam's wings covered in googly eyes of every size and color, causing you to nearly spit out your water with laughter.

Sam looks angrily at Loki, "Why are you messing with me?" He pulls down his goggles and walks over to him.

Loki scoffs, unintimidated by the Falcon and says, "If I was 'messing with you' I would have done more then put paint on your eyewear."

He turns back towards the window quickly and sees two thick black rings of paint around his eyes. "Come on! What the hell guys?" he groans.

Bucky, Scott and Clint can barely keep themselves together long enough to deny they had anything to do with this new prank.

Thor almost looks offended and asks, "How come no one assumes it was me?"

Tony pats him on the back and says, "You're not exactly known for being stealthy." He crosses his arms but nods in agreement. "Alright, now that... that whole thing is out of our systems, let's see what the new wings can do," Tony suggests, bringing everyone back to their original reason for being there.

Sam agrees and everyone moves back a bit to watch him take off. Bucky let's a small smile slip when Sam tries to turn left to circle around the room but his suit doesn't respond correctly. He grows increasingly more confused and annoyed as he discovers his controls are reversed.

He lands after only a few minutes and Clint asks, "First time flying? That was rough to watch."

"Shut up," he answers, fiddling with the computer on his wrist as Tony walks over.

"I'll get this thing debugged and we can try again tomorrow, Tony tells him. He nods and leaves with a loud sigh. Bucky and Steve turn to leave as well but Bucky catches Clint and Scott nodding proudly to each other. He chuckles when he spots a googly eye stuck to Scott's shoe.

Day 5

"I am so over this," Sam tells Steve and Bucky as the walk towards the kitchen. "When I find out who is doing all of this they better apologize like hell cause I'm furious," he threatens and Bucky practically bites his tongue to stay quiet.

His phone chimes in his pocket and says, "New text message to Director Nicholas Fury."

"Shut up," he says as he takes his phone out of his pocket.

It chimes again, "Texting, 'shut up'."

"No, no, no! Cancel, cancel," he says, frantically hitting buttons but none of them work to stop it.

"Text message sent," it alerts him with another chime and he rubs his face.

"What the heck was that?" Steve asks.

"I don't know... It's been doing that all day," he says. "I talked to Y/N and she said she is going to have a new phone sent up to me as soon as Stark approves it."

"Y/N, the woman Bucky likes-" Steve starts to ask with a smile but he's interrupted.

"New text message to Tony Stark," his phone says.

"I hate you," he tells the phone as he tries to turn it off.

The phones responds, "Texting, "I hate you'."

He groans and Bucky begins to lose the battle to hold back his laughter. "What is wrong with you?" Sam struggles with the device.

"Texting, 'What is wrong with you?'" it again repeats Sam.

"Stop talking to it," Steve suggests.

"Texting, 'Stop talking'," the phone adds and Steve cringes. "Text message sent."

"I'm gonna get fired," he says and slumps against the wall.

"Finding instructions on how to make fire," it says as if that is helpful.

His phone chimes to alert him to an incoming text message. "Oh good... it's Tony," he says sarcastically.

"Could be worse," Bucky says with a smile and Sam looks up at him skeptically.

His phone chimes again. "It's Fury," he says with a loud sigh.

Bucky laughs, "See, now it's worse." Steve smacks him in the shoulder and shakes his head disapprovingly but Bucky can see the smile on his face.

Later that night, most of the team is relaxing in the common room until Sam walks in angrily. He slams his laundry basket on the coffee table in front of Natasha, Clint and Wanda. Loki looks up from his book in the corner of the room and Bucky follows Steve in from the kitchen.

"Who did it?" Sam asks.

"Oh, what horrible prank where you the victim of this time?" Loki asks with a smirk as he gets up from his seat.

He pulls out his bedsheets which are all different shades of pink, "Which one of you did this? These were new."

Nat giggles and says, "I don't know but it is a really nice color."

Bucky takes out his phone and quickly finds your chat. You text him back, showing the picture of the pink sheets to your friends who joined you for dinner.

<Omg, they did not!? That's amazing 🤣🤣 I can't believe other people joined in like this>

Steve calmly says, "It might not have been on purpose. Someone probably forgot a red shirt or something in the machine."

"No, this is definitely on purpose," he argues with Steve. "I'm going to find out who is doing this."

He grabs the basket and leaves the room angrily. Bucky doesn't watch him leave, he's too focused on Wanda winking at Nat.

Day 6

Sam sits at the far end of the large oval table in the conference room, fuming with his arms crossed.

Loki smiles wide as he takes a seat next to him. He leans close and asks, "What seems to be the trouble today?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam responds.

Loki doesn't give up and says, "I think you should share with the team, it might make you feel better. Besides, I'm sure we're all curious as to why you are so annoyed this morning."

Before he can reply, Fury walks into the briefing room. He slams the door shut, which gets everyone's attention at once. He stands in the front of the room, covered in glitter as he glares at Sam. "We need to talk Wilson," he tells him.

"I didn't..." he stands slowly. "You don't think I did that?"

"You left your ID badge on my desk," he holds it up by the lanyard. Sam looks at him in shock then pats his pants and jacket as if it will suddenly appear on his person.

Loki laughs so hard, he slaps the desk and says, "This is the best week I have had in decades. I don't think I've been this entertained since humans celebrated the first April Fools Day."

Sam looks at Loki and then back to Fury, "It has to be him. Do you really think I would be stupid enough to glitter bomb you and leave my ID badge?"

"I have already told you, I have not participated in your torment," Loki says. "I am merely enjoying it."

Thor adds, "Trust me, if it was my brother, he would not deny it."

"Fine, so it's not him but it's one of you," Sam looks around the room at the full table.

Fury stands unconvinced at the front of the room, his arms crossed against his chest. "You have until the end of the day to pick up every single piece of glitter," he tells Sam then he takes a seat at the head of the table to start the meeting.

Loki whispers to Sam, "I must admit, I'm really beginning to like whoever is doing this to you."

Sam rolls his eyes and says, "Oh this person you like? I thought you hated all 'humans'."

Loki corrects him, "I am generally indifferent towards your existence, that's not quite the same as hate."

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not," Sam says and Loki shrugs in response.

Day 7

Sam is confused and says, "Wait are you guys together? I thought you said you didn't talk to her..."

Sam wanders into the kitchen in the morning, yawning from lack of sleep. He had stayed up most of the night trying to figure out who was behind all of the pranks. He assumed most of the team could have done the laundry prank or googly eyes but he didn't know anyone with the tech skills to pull off the other ones.

He stops short when he sees you and Bucky together, he stands behind you with his arms around your waist. You look up at him and kiss his cheek before you notice Sam.

Bucky smirks and says, "Oh yeah, I guess I lied."

"How long..." you can see him trying to figure out if you had been together long enough to aid in his pranking.

You smile at his confusion and ask, "Wanna see something cool?" He shrugs, still processing your relationship. "Bucky told me the new toaster is voice activated."

"Oh shit," Sam slowly starts to realize what set off this whole chain reaction of pranks. "Bucky, it was just a joke. It's not actually voice activated, you know that right?"

You smile and say, "Oh, then how come this happens?" You push the button on your phone inside your pocket and say, "Toast." A few seconds later, two perfectly toasted pieces of bread pop out.

"What the hell?" Sam asks, you and Bucky laugh in response. He turns and walks back out of the kitchen, nearly walking right into Tony.

"Morning," Tony greets you both as he sets up his now fixed coffee maker. "I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed with you Y/N."

"With what?" you suddenly feel nervous.

He smiles and asks, "Did you really think you could get into all of my systems without me noticing?"

Bucky moves slightly in front of you and says, "Don't fire her, it's my fault. I asked her to help. We just wanted to get back at him a little."

Bucky pulls you closer, looks at you and says, "I know I'm lucky."

Tony laughs, takes a sip of his coffee and says, "Oh, I'm not mad. I actually am very impressed by how well you got into every part of the towers tech, we should probably talk about a promotion into our security division."

You look at him speechless, you had always wanted to work in that department.

"Also," he adds, "I had that glitter bomb for almost a year and I couldn't figure out how set it off in Fury's office without getting blamed for it so thank you for the distraction."

"Um... you're welcome," you tell him with a laugh.

"Barnes, you're luck she is on your side," he says as he turns to leave. "She's absolutely terrifying."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

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5.2 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, toxic plants, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: Car sexxxxxxxxxxx!

A/N: Killer headache, not much to say tonight, sorry!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there, Major’s head resting peacefully on his chest as they both strove to catch their breath. He’d worried that any additional sex he had with her wouldn’t have lived up to the previous night, and he was amazed that tonight had been even better. The things she’d said to him while she held his dick in her hands. He had no idea he’d be into talk like that, but he’d loved it, loved hearing the filthy words come out of her mouth as she talked about being ruined by the size of his cock.

He opened his eyes when he felt her head move from his chest, and he moved to help lift her off his now flaccid cock. He watched as she reached her small hands down, pulling the used condom off of him and tying it closed, before gently tucking him back into his pants and zipping up his fly and re-doing his belt.

“A little help?” she asked as she readjusted her dress, pulling the front of it back up over her breasts. Bucky carefully reached around to the back of her neck, finding the ties that kept her dress in place, and fastening them securely into a neat bow.

“Damn shame,” Bucky said as Major fixed the front of her dress to make sure she was fully covered once more, “to keep such beautiful tits hidden from the world.”

She snickered and playfully swatted at his chest. “I’m gonna need a little help getting up,” she told him.

Bucky frowned. The last thing he wanted was for her to get up. “You sure you have to, doll?” he asked, running his hands up and down the sides of her waist. “I’m very comfortable right here, so long as you are, and I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.”

“No,” Major said, leaning into his chest again, “I’m quite content where I’m at.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “So, what kind of toppings do you like on your pizza?”

Major looked up at him, laughing at his question. “Pizza? Seriously?”

Bucky nudged her cheek with his nose. “I wanna know everything about you,” he told her. “And if I’m gonna keep seeing you, I need to know the important things, like pineapple on pizza: yes, or no?”

“Wow,” she said, “starting out with the heavy questions, huh?”

“This is critical compatibility stuff, sugar,” he laughed. “I gotta know.”

“No pressure, huh?” she asked him playfully. “Okay, fine– yes, pineapple on pizza.”

“Oh thank god,” said Bucky with a dramatic sigh. “We have a chance.”

They delved into asking each other the most ridiculous ‘getting to know you’ questions they could think of, and Bucky was amazed at just how easy Major was to talk to, how effortlessly the conversation with her flowed. It was growing late, but neither one seemed eager to move, Major still straddling Bucky’s lap in the front seat of Tony’s sports car, arms draped over his shoulders as they sat face-to-face.

“What’s your favorite sub?” he asked with a grin.

“Okay, don’t make fun of me,” she said, smiling up at him, “but I love sweet onion teriyaki chicken, but with lettuce, cucumber, and just, like, a shitload of extra dill pickles, and then smothered in red wine vinegar.”

Bucky made a face. “That sounds disgusting,” he said with a laugh.

Major playfully pushed at his chest. “It’s delicious,” she countered. The tang of the pickles and vinegar mixed with the sweet teriyaki sauce?” She moaned decadently. “So fucking good.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, doll,” he said.

He felt like he was talking to someone he’d known his entire life, not a woman he’d just met for the first time the night before, and he knew it was too soon, he was getting ahead of himself, but he could picture spending the rest of his life with a girl like her, and being happy doing it.

Back in the ‘40s, the white picket fence and wife with two kids had always been Steve’s dream, not Bucky’s. Bucky had been happy to go out, meet a new girl every night, and say goodbye to them before sunrise the next morning. It wasn’t that he never wanted something more than that, it was just that, with the constant threat of America getting pulled into the war in Europe, knowing that any day could see him drafted and sent overseas, he’d never allowed himself to think of it as a possibility.

But Major? With her, he saw all of that potential future stretched before him.

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, preferring instead to ask Major if she was a dog person or a cat person.

“Either, really,” she told him after a moment’s thought. “But if I could only have one? Definitely a cat. They’re so small and snuggly, but also evil little murder babies.”

Bucky’s phone buzzed again.

“Do you need to get that?” Major asked. “Is it, like, Captain America calling to ask for your help in saving the world?”

Bucky snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “We’ve got official coms if he needed to reach me for something like that.”

“Well, okay, then,” Major said, leaning in to kiss along the plane of Bucky’s jaw and along his throat. Bucky groaned.

“You’re gonna get me going again, sugar,” he said as she sucked at the skin on his neck.

“Is that a bad thing?” Major murmured, and Bucky could feel the smile on her lips against his skin.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m just warnin’ ya, is all.” His phone buzzed yet again.

“You should check that,” she told him, taking his earlobe into her mouth and gently sucking on it.

“But I’m enjoying myself,” he said with a gasp as she nipped at his jaw. “I’d hate to interrupt you.”

“Who says I have to stop?” Major reached up and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. “Take the call.” She brought her mouth down and began sucking kisses into his collarbone.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned. “How are you so hot?” He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone while Major kept up her affectionate administrations to his body. Checking the caller ID, he rolled his eyes when he saw Lily’s contact information on the screen.

“Answer it,” Major offered. “I really don’t mind.” She reached her hand down and began palming him through his pants, all the while continuing to kiss and suck on his neck.

Bucky swallowed. The last thing he wanted on his mind right now was Lily, but given that she’d already called four times in the last five minutes, he figured it might be important. So, he pressed the accept button.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual as Major squeezed him through the fabric of his pants.

“Jamie, where are you?” she asked, foregoing any sort of greeting.

“Uh, I told you,” he said, sucking in a breath as Major licked a long stripe up the side of his neck. “I’m out in the–” he had to suck in a breath when Major took his earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it “--the city,” he gasped.

“Well, what are you doing?” Lily asked. Was Bucky imagining things, or was there a trace of suspicion in her voice? But he honestly didn’t care. He just wanted to be off this phone call and focus all of his attention back on Major.

“I already told you what I was doing, Lily,” he told her, shrugging at Major, who gave him a playful, exaggerated pout.

“What time do you think you’ll be home?” she asked him. Bucky sighed, annoyed. Why should he have to report his comings and goings to her constantly?

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home, Lil,” he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “You don’t have to keep checking up on me.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Major whispered in Bucky’s ear as she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. “Very late tomorrow morning.” Bucky had to stifle a groan as she rubbed her chest against him.

“What was that?” Lily asked.

“I said ‘why?’ We don’t have set plans.” Bucky wanted off this call so badly.

“I was just wondering,” she said, and Bucky could detect a trace of hurt in her voice.

“Listen, Lil,” he began, “I gotta go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, Jamie.” He didn’t even wait for her to finish speaking before he hung up.

“Sorry about that,” he said, now able to finally give Major his undivided attention. “Now, where were we?”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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scoonsaliciousupdates · 3 days

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5.1 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, protected PIV).

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: You want Bucky, he wants you-- neither one of you can wait to get back to your place.

A/N: Car sex! Huzzah!

I feel like I wrote "cock" too many times...

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

It was a tight fit, but so worth it. The sports car didn’t have a back seat, so Bucky had pushed the driver’s seat back as far as it could go so you could straddle him as you kissed each other and ground your pelvises together.

You moaned into Bucky’s mouth. Even through the fabric of his pants and your panties, he felt so good, hitting almost all the right spots. “Pants,” you grunted.

Bucky chuckled into your lips as he reached down and started unworking his belt and fly. “So needy,” he murmured, moving to suck beautiful bruises into your skin.

“Yes,” you agreed, your breath coming out in gasps. “Desperate.” You reached over into the passenger’s seat, grabbing your clutch. Opening it up, you pulled out a handful of condoms.

At the sight of them, Bucky chuckled. “Were you a Girl Scout growing up, doll? Cause you sure came prepared.”

“Let’s just say,” you paused to rip the foil packet open with your teeth, “I had high hopes for tonight.”

“Well, far be it for me to disa–” Bucky sucked in a breath as you rolled the condom down on his exposed member, taking the liberty to start stroking it with both hands. “Fuck, sugar, just like that.”

“Look at this big cock,” you cooed as you looked down at where you were working him. “So big and thick, I can’t even get my little fingers to fit around it.”

You couldn’t even identify the sound Bucky made at your words, but you were fairly confident he liked them, so you went on: “How’s this giant, beefy cock going to fit in my tiny, tight pussy, Sergeant?” you asked, your voice coming out in a purr. “Gonna tear me in half with this monster dick. Split me right in two ‘til I’m screaming.”

Bucky’s mouth was hanging open, his head lolled against the headrest and his eyes closed. “Keep talking, sugar,” he panted. “I’m so fucking close.”

You grinned. “Think I can take it, Sarge?” you asked as you jerked him. “Think I can be a good girl for you? Take every inch you have to give me? Let you stretch my pretty pussy wide open? Gonna make me choke on this dick?”

With a growl, Bucky gripped the back of your head with one hand, pulling your mouth to his in a brutal kiss. His other hand slid between your bodies, under the skirt of your dress. Skillfully, he slid the gusset of your sopped panties aside, then grabbed his cock from you, guiding it into your entrance.

You gasped at the intrusion, luxuriating in the feel of him as he pressed fully into you. Then you began to move, riding his cock, the both of you now silent as you stared into each other’s eyes. His hands moved to your hips, helping you as he fucked up into you, handling you as though you weighed nothing. You grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket for purchase, pulling him to you and capturing his lips with your own.

The windows of the car were long fogged over, encasing the two of you in a private cocoon of lust and heat as you bounced on top of Bucky’s cock. “You feel so good, sugar,” he moaned. “So tight, so perfect.”

You reached behind your head and pulled at the ties behind your neck that held the top of your dress up, letting the front of it fall down your chest to your waist, exposing yourself to him. Bucky’s eyes followed your movements, and when your breasts were revealed, he let out a low groan. He took one hand off your hip and brought it to your tit, palming the flesh until your nipple pebbled beneath his touch. Leaning down, he brought his mouth to the other, sucking and biting at the hard nub.

You threw your head back, lost in the sensations he was giving you. Grabbing the back of his head, you pressed it against your skin, never wanting him to take his mouth off of you. He switched, moving to your other breast to give it the same loving attention.

“Bucky,” you gasped, pulling his hair so that he had to look at you, “Bucky, I’m close. Cum with me, baby, please,” you begged.

Bucky nodded vigorously, taking the hand that had been paying homage to your breast and moving it down to your clit, where he began to rub it furiously. “I’mma get you there, doll,” he said, voice husky with his own impending release. “I’ll be right with you.”

It was your turn to nod, desperately, as you locked eyes with him. You kept up the eye contact through your individual orgasms, cumming within moments of one another. You cried out as you came, his name a garbled prayer on your lips, and you couldn’t believe you’d known this man for just over 24 hours, yet he already knew how to work your body so well, as though by pure instinct, or as if you were made for one another.

As you both came down from your highs, you rested your head against his chest, breathing heavy as you listened to the sound of his rapid heartbeat. Lazily, you brought a hand to his chest, wanting to feel the pounding beneath his skin.

You felt Bucky’s hands come up around you and caress your bare back, now slick with sweat. “You’re fucking perfect, sugar,” he said, and you had to laugh when you could feel the husky rumble of his words inside of him.

“Pretty sure you’re the perfect one,” you said, feeling blissfully fucked out. “I think I’m becoming addicted to Bucky Barnes-induced orgasms.”

“Well,” he said, kissing the top of your head, “I am more than happy to keep you well supplied, doll. So long as you don’t mind returning the favor.”

You let out a laugh. “Not even a little bit,” you said.

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deliciousangelfestival · 20 hours

Text

Tears In His Ferrari - 11

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2,Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10, Chp 11 ,-

Bucky then found himself inundated with tags from numerous people: “#SaveBuckyFromY/N”, “KateBucky4ever”, and more.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the online scrutiny, especially since he hadn’t even established a relationship with Kate, Bucky realized the weight of social media speculation.

"Bucky-" as Y/N began to speak, Bucky sensed the tension building within her. Before she could ask him anything, her phone rang, interrupting their conversation.

Reacting swiftly, Bucky urged, “Wait, don’t pick up the phone.”

However, it was too late.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, her expression turning serious as she engaged in the call.

Moments later, she visibly struggled to maintain her balance and leaned heavily against the nearby table. Reacting instinctively, Bucky hurried to her side, offering his support.

Guiding her to sit down, Bucky observed a vulnerability in Y/N that he hadn’t witnessed before, despite their months of companionship.

Letting out a weary sigh, Y/N confessed, “This thing still chases me wherever I go.”

Concern etched across his features, Bucky inquired softly, “Is it true?”

Y/N met his gaze and nodded solemnly. “Do you want to know why I disliked you the first time we met?”

Bucky attempted to lighten the mood with a jest, “You did? I didn’t notice.”

Y/N smiled stiffly, her expression betraying a mix of emotions. “You reminded me of my old self. Selfish and childish.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion. The Y/N he knew appeared aloof, but beneath her exterior, she always extended a helping hand whenever someone needed it.

“You?” Bucky exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

Y/N nodded, her gaze distant as she recounted her past. “I used to despise farm life. So, I ran away to the city.”

“No way,” Bucky responded, struggling to reconcile this revelation with the Y/N he knew.

“I took on any job I could find to survive,” Y/N continued. “Eventually, I landed a position in a small restaurant. The owner took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. After a year, he recommended me for a chef position on a cruise ship.”

“That’s where you met Paul?” Bucky interjected, connecting the dots.

Y/N nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We were the youngest chefs on board, constantly underestimated by our senior colleagues. But we worked tirelessly to prove ourselves.”

Her smile faded as she delved deeper into her story. “Who would have thought that Paul was actually the son of the ship’s owner?”

Bucky nodded in understanding. Kate came from a wealthy family, and while he knew her mother, he was unaware of her father’s identity.

“Paul asked me to join him in opening a restaurant,” Y/N continued, her voice tinged with reminiscence. “I became his sous-chef.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he processed Y/N’s words. “Starlight restaurant?”

Y/N simply nodded in confirmation.

“Wow,” Bucky remarked, impressed. “It’s notoriously difficult to secure a reservation there.”

Y/N’s expression shifted, her eyes clouded with memories. “The restaurant was successful, but I grew exhausted and burned out,” she explained. “I couldn’t handle it, especially with Paul’s gambling addiction.”

The restaurant had flourished financially, but much of the income had been drained to cover Paul’s debts, leaving Y/N drained and depressed.

“So, I quit and returned to working on cruise ships,” she continued a tinge of regret in her voice. But even that decision proved a mistake, as she became increasingly depleted and devoid of the passion for cooking that once drove her.

Then came the fateful night of the accident. Paul, inebriated and reckless, had implored Y/N to drive him home. Despite her protests and her inability to operate the sports car, Paul had insisted.

The car veered off course, crashing into a tree. While Paul had sustained injuries, they hadn’t affected his culinary skills. It soon became apparent that the accident had been staged—a ploy for Paul to evade responsibility and declare bankruptcy for the restaurant.

Disgusted by Paul’s deceit, Y/N had returned home—a place she had once fled in search of escape. But upon her return, she realized just how much she had missed it. It was then that she resolved to stay and make amends as a dutiful daughter.

Bucky listened attentively, a mix of empathy and understanding in his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured her sincerely.

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a blend of surprise and gratitude. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear those words. I never expected to hear them from you.”

“Hey…” Bucky’s soft and comforting voice offered solace amid Y/N’s turmoil.

As their faces drew closer, a palpable tension crackled in the air, igniting a silent conversation between them. Y/N’s heart raced in anticipation, her mind swirling with the possibility of what might transpire between them. Is this really happening? she wondered, her breath catching in her throat as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable.

But just as their lips hovered tantalizingly close, the spell was abruptly shattered by the intrusion of Samantha’s voice.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Startled, Bucky and Y/N quickly recoiled, putting a respectful distance between them as Samantha entered the room. The moment was lost, replaced by a wave of awkwardness that washed over them both.

Samantha’s eyes flickered over the scene, a discerning glint in her gaze. She approached her daughter, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “Don’t worry, baby,” she assured Y/N, her voice laced with unwavering resolve. “Mom will handle this. Nothing this skinny person said is true.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion and apprehension. “What are you going to do?” she inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she awaited her mother’s response.

******

Kate, thoroughly enjoying her followers' flattering tweets and comments, lounged back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. "Hehehe."

Meanwhile, her assistant, feeling a bit groggy, couldn’t seem to sit still.

"Stop fidgeting," Kate commanded, her tone impatient as she continued scrolling through her phone.

"But she didn’t do anything wrong," her assistant pointed out, a hint of sympathy in their voice.

Rolling her eyes dismissively, Kate waved off the comment. She was too engrossed in the online attention to entertain any doubts or second thoughts.

However, her focus was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She glanced at the caller ID and saw it was her estranged brother, Paul.

Kate's trembling fingers hesitated before accepting the call, her long, manicured nails glinting in the dim light as she whispered a tentative "Hi."

The voice on the other end was cold and devoid of any warmth one might expect from siblings. "Keep my name out of this," Paul commanded, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Kate watched as the call abruptly ended. It was a brief exchange, leaving her feeling pale and unsettled.

Despite being siblings, Kate and Paul had grown apart over the years, their relationship strained by their parent's divorce and Paul's withdrawal from social interactions following the accident.

As Kate tried to process the call, she was startled by a commotion from her rented house. Peeking cautiously through the curtains, she saw a sight that sent shockwaves through her. Quickly retreating from the window, she cowered in the safety of the shadows, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

"Get the car keys," she ordered her assistant, her voice tinged with urgency.

"What's going on?" her assistant pressed, confusion evident in their tone.

"Stop asking! Just do it!" Kate snapped, her patience wearing thin.

With a resigned sigh, her assistant rolled their eyes but complied with her request.

Peeking anxiously from behind the curtain, Kate's heart sank at the sight that greeted her. A crowd had gathered outside, wielding fiery torches and brandishing pitchforks.

It resembled a scene from a medieval village, and Kate couldn't shake the feeling that she was the target of their ire.

Voices clamored outside, demanding her presence. "Come out, come out! Where is the person who just slandered my daughter's name?" one voice shouted.

"Right. Come out and talk," another added, the tone laced with hostility.

Kate trembled with fear, her mind racing with panic.

"You want to go now?" her assistant asked, their concern palpable.

"Now!" Kate insisted, her voice quivering with anxiety.

As she hurriedly exited town, Kate swore to herself that she would never return. The events of that night had left her shaken to the core, and she had no intention of ever crossing paths with Bucky or anyone else from the town again.

********

Kate's message sat unread in Bucky's inbox, a stark reminder of her betrayal. He felt a pang of guilt as he reflected on how things had unfolded.

If he had been firmer in asking Kate to leave, Y/N wouldn't have been subjected to such humiliation.

Despite the turmoil, Bucky resolved to carry on with his daily routine. Tending to the crops and livestock provided a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of recent events.

During lunchtime, he decided to visit Toby and his grandparents. As he arrived at the farmhouse, nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to encounter.

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gaysindistress · 10 hours

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Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #dragon x reader #dragon au #dragon x human #dragon Bucky x reader #allies or enemies #allies or enemies Bucky x reader

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delicatebarness · 1 day

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bring him home | chapter one

Summary: You leave your room for the first time in a month as the memory of your first meeting with Bucky floods your mind.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. A lot of grief and sadness.

Word Count: 1376

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Why do I do this to myself?

Tags: Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters.

The atmosphere in the briefing room was thick with sorrow, each member of the team carried the weight of their loss, it was a heavy burden. Natasha, Steve, Banner, and Rhodey sat in silence, exchanging somber looks as they came together to discuss what needed to be done next.

As they waited for you to join them, there was a noticeable sense of uncertainty. You hadn’t left your room in the month since the Snap, the grief had consumed you like a relentless tide. They had no expectations on your arrival, there was no hope that you would find the strength to join them.

Yet, to their surprise and also their relief, the door creaked open, and you stepped inside.

Your appearance was a stark reflection of the grief you carried. Your eyes hollow, your shoulders slumped, and your face paled with the pain. It was as if the weight of the universe had settled on your shoulders, it was crushing you.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, he stood at the head of the table, his voice heavy with emotion as he spoke. “We’re glad you could join us,” he said softly, you could hear the relief in his voice. It was rare that he got to see you these days.

You managed to direct a weak nod in response to him, your throat was tight with unshed tears. The concern that etched your friends and family’s faces only served to deepen the ache in your chest.

As the meeting began, the discussion turned into plans for the future - how to rebuild what had been lost and how you help those who had been affected. Each word felt like a knife to the heart, a painful reminder of how you were one of the affected.

“We need to focus on finding a way to provide support to those who have lost,” Natasha said, her voice determined. “They need to know they’re not alone,”

Banner nodded in agreement, “We need to consider the long-term effects of the snap, too,” he added. “The psychological impact.” You couldn’t help but notice his gaze land on you at that moment.

Rhodey chimed in, his voice steady. “We’ll need to work closely with the remaining governments and aid organizations, make sure resources are allocated where needed,” he said.

The meeting dragged on, tears had been threatening to spill from your eyes since you sat in your old usual spot. You weren’t focused on what they were saying, memories of happier times flooded your mind, each one a cruel reminder of what you lost.

Drawing to a close, everyone began to leave the briefing room. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming loneliness wash over you. Despite being only a few feet away from friends and family, you felt utterly alone.

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable as the last of them left you sitting at the table.

You remembered the first time you laid eyes on him, The Winter Soldier, your memory was as vivid as if it was yesterday. You were just a child, barely old enough to understand the world beyond the Red Room. Yet, even then, something about the large and mysterious man set him apart from the others.

You had heard the whispers of his existence long before you ever saw him - the tales of a silent assassin who moved like a ghost were told in the girl's room after lights out.

It was a cold, dreary day in the Red Room, it felt like it was being stretched on forever. You were alone on the training grounds, going through the motions of another grueling session. An intense workout on your small young body. He appeared before you as he silently spectated your movements.

“I’ll be your trainer from now on,” his voice was low, almost monotone, yet it carried a demanding tone.

At first, you froze in place, a mixture of fear and curiosity coursed through you. His movements were calculated and precise. Yet, beneath the facade of his programming, you sensed a flicker of something more. As a child, you sensed the spark of humanity that refused to be taken from him.

As he began guiding you through the drills, he commanded with authority. “Stand straight, shoulders back.”

“Yes, Soldat,” you responded, straightening your posture as best as you could.

His touch was firm but gentle, his instructions clear, you noticed how he never once fought back with his left arm. “You’re hesitating,” he observed.

“I, um, I’m sorry,” your small voice stammered, embarrassment rushed through you at your inability to keep up with his speed.

“Focus,” he urged, you noticed the slight softening of his voice. For a moment, you saw your reflection in his eyes, a mirror image of the child you used to be before the Red Room stole you away and replaced your innocence with something darker.

From that day forward, the Winter Soldier became more than just a trainer to you. He became your protector and silent companion. “You have potential,” he once remarked, his words causing pride and confidence to course through you for the first time.

And though your time training with him was fleeting, the memory of him lingered long after you had completed your training and he vanished back into the shadows.

You sat alone in your room, you still couldn’t believe you were back after over two years. It hadn’t changed since the morning you left with Natasha. Staring out the window, watching the raindrops race down the pane, you lost yourself in a sea of memories. Each one was a bittersweet reminder of what once was. The ache had yet to dull in your heart, the emptiness of lost companions.

A sudden sound of gentle knocking on your door startled you. Blinking away the haze of sadness, you rose from your windowsill and made your way toward the door. You were met with the warm smile of your sister, Natasha, as you opened it. Her presence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had consumed you over the last month.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice a soothing tone that cut through the heaviness of the room. “Mind if I come in?”

You shook your head, stepping aside to let her come in. She crossed the threshold, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern as she took in your teary eyes and the growing mess taking over your once gleaming room.

“Have you found her?” you asked with a slight sense of hope in your voice.

Natasha’s expression faltered at your question, a shadow passed over her features. “She’s gone, too” she replied gently, her voice filled with regret.

You nodded, a disappointing weight settling heavily in your chest. For weeks, you had searched tirelessly for any sign of your other sister, Yelena. Clinging to the hope that she was still out there somewhere, not vanished.

Your sister moved closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as your arms wrapped around her waist. “I know it hurts.”

“I just can’t believe they’re gone,” you admitted, your voice trembled as your eyes began to fill with tears again. “Yelena, Wanda, Sam, Bucky…”

“I know,” Natasha murmured as her grip tightened around you slightly. “But we’re still here, we have each other.”

You nodded, the tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you confessed, grateful that you still had your eldest sister here with you and having her unwavering support.

As Natasha pulled back, her smile softened and her hands came up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears with her thumbs. “Just promise me one thing,” she said softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious at the serious tone in her voice.

“Promise me,” her voice wavered slightly. “You’ll remember that you’re never truly alone, even if I’m not here to remind you.” Her eyes bore into yours, sending a chill down your spine. Her eyes were full of knowing as if she knew something you didn’t.

You furrowed your brow, sniffling as the tears continued to spill. “I promise,” you replied.

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bring him home series #bring him home #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x romanoff!reader

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iamleesi · 3 days

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THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You decide to go back to that creepy house and things don’t really go as planned

Warnings: Mention of missing person, creepy stuff, mention of blood, lady with an axe and I think that’s all? -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my fist language so I apologize in advance for any mistake

-> Masterlist

-> Part four ; Part six

-> Ugly truth (05)

The living room of the temporary house you were sharing with Bucky was filled with the scent of burgers and fries, the television was on but the volume was down. You sat on the edge of the couch, absently picking at your food as your mind inevitably drifted back to your argument with Bucky just last night. He didn’t even spare a glance in your direction after you stormed out of the room, not that you made any effort to talk to him.

Across from you and Bucky, Sam and Dean lounged in their armchairs, their exhaustion evident in the bags under their eyes. As if they didn’t sleep at all, much like you. There was nothing but silence as you ate the last meal of the day, tired after a day of working on the case just to get nothing. No lead, no idea on where this Adam lived since he was the only hope to know more about Cassandra’s whereabouts before she disappeared.

You, along with the rest of this weird team, had gone to the hospital where Cassandra worked at and asked questions to her colleagues that were as useless as a fish out of the water. Apparently this Cassandra was not keen to have social relationships outside her family, you had learnt.

Family that consisted in her stepmother and biological father. Mrs Miller was… well, you had already met her. Her father, on the other hand, was not in the picture apparently. No one knew shit about that poor woman’s private life and the only resource you had left was Adam - and you hadn’t found where he lived yet.

You and Dean, in all of this, hadn’t had that talk yet. About why he didn’t tell Bucky the truth on what you two had seen at Mrs Miller’s house and, most importantly, why he didn’t seem fazed about it. You never told anyone about the kind of experiments they did in the Hydra base you were raised at, not even Fury. You couldn’t, and for a long time you tried to forget what you had seen with your own eyes.

After you were rescued you figured they’d eventually find out the monsters that were created in there, but you never heard anyone talk about it so you kept your mouth shut. They had told you they rescued every child, teenage and adult Hydra kidnapped and that’s what mattered the most to you. Those things were creatures to forget, but you saw one again. And not in your old Hydra facility. No.

You saw it through the window of Mrs Miller’s house, and a small part of you suspected that Cassandra wasn’t fully dead. You were starting to think she had turned into one of those things and that only meant Hydra was nearer than you thought, but Mrs Miller was nowhere near being the person behind this and she was too far gone mentally to give you a clue about who this person could be.

And you came to the conclusion you wanted to find out yourself. Alone.

You decided you wouldn’t tell Bucky, nor Sam or Dean. You suspected that the brothers knew something already and that meant they purposely kept things from you and Bucky, maybe even Fury. Or maybe Fury himself was involved but then again, why wouldn’t he tell you? You were confused, angry and tired of this whole situation.

“Did you find something?” Dean asked with his mouth full of fries to his brother who was giving him a disgusted look. “What? We’re all friends now, no need for manners.” He shrugged.

“If you ever had any.” Sam mumbled under his breath, before turning the laptop to the general direction where both you and Bucky - and also Dean - could see. “This is a local article about Cassandra’s father, Michael Sawyer. It says he was a successful scientist until he disappeared in 1996 when the outcome of his infidelity was left on his doorstep. Cassandra’s biological mother was never found, not even to this day. Mrs Miller kicked him out and took the child in, raising Cassandra as her own.”

“He suddenly came back in town in 2013, the news spread all over the State. Mrs Miller took him back almost immediately, people believe because she was having financial problems raising her then 17 years old daughter, and he has been nothing but a lovely father and husband ever since.” Sam finished, looking at each of you in the room.

“Where is he now?” Bucky asked, taking a sip from the bottle of beer in his hand - the only thing he touched the whole night, since the burger was still perfectly wrapped.

“No idea.” Sam turned the laptop screen in his direction once again, typing something down. “No news from him ever since Cassandra disappeared. Do you think he could be involved?”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “It definitely sounds suspicious.”

“He came back when my facility fell, in 2013.” You informed them. “But that could be a coincidence, I believe the only one that can know something about that family is Adam, since he was her boyfriend. Did you find anything about him?” You asked.

“No.” Sam sighed. “I might do a few calls though, see if a friend of mine can track him down.”

“If you’re still hoping for Cas to answer you’re an idiot, Sam.” Dean grunted, glaring at his brother.

“Who’s Cas?” Bucky inquired, looking between the two of them. “This case is ours. We can’t spill details to friends, that’s the first thing they teach at SHIELD.”

“We know, my brother was just being dumb.” Dean got up from his armchair, putting on his usual green leather jacket. “Let’s go, it’s late and we need rest.” Dean seemed quite dismissive, as he took his brother by the jacked and forced him to get up.

Bucky watched as Dean practically dragged Sam to his feet, a frown made it’s way to his face at the fastness of their departure. Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours for a moment and you shrugged at him, just as puzzled at the brothers’s behavior as he was.

As the door closed behind the two, Bucky turned his his head towards you once again, a furrow forming between his brows. “I think we should do a background check on them. There’s something they’re hiding.”

“You always seem to think people are hiding something and can’t be trusted. We don’t have time for that.” You retorted, your tone full of irritation. “We have a case to solve, James, we can’t worry about those two. Fury says they’re good, so they’re good.” You said. Even if you did agree with him, you also were sure - for some reason - that they weren’t a threat.

His jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t back down. “I’m just saying we should be cautious.” He insisted.

“And I’m saying we have more important things to worry about.” You said.

With that, you rose from the couch to clear the coffee table where the four of you had dinner on, and you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. Your heard him sigh before he left the room and went into the kitchen, only to come back with an empty trash bag and start helping you out.

“Can we talk for a moment? About the other night?” He asked after a while, breaking the silence as you both finished cleaning the mess that mainly those two had left behind.

“I’m not in the mood for talking.” You mumbled, turning off the lights of the kitchen. “I’m going to bed, actually, so have a good night.”

“Emma-”

You walked past him upstairs, locking your bedroom door behind you; you had something to do that night, so you pushed aside the slight, almost invisible guilt you felt for not listening to whatever Bucky had to say. Making your way to the bedside table, your reached for the drawer where you kept your gun - you could never know.

You tucked the gun into your holster and sat on your bed, it was still too early. You could hear Bucky downstairs doing God knows what, and you knew that given his enchanted hearing due to the Super Soldier serum he would hear you if you sneaked out when he was awake.

You waited patiently until the house fell quiet, and you made your way to the window. Sliding it open, making sure not to make any sound, you jumped - thankfully you had some kind of super strength yourself, so when your legs hit the ground you didn’t even flinch.

You looked around you to make sure no one saw you, after all you were still Bucky’s wife for the whole neighborhood as a cover and sneaking out in the middle of the night would look suspicious. You passed in front of Dean’s and Sam’s house, noticing the Impala wasn’t there - weird. So much for being tired and wanting some rest, as they said.

It didn’t take you long to arrive to the Miller’s house, but you had to admit that perhaps you walked slower that you normally would. You did want answers, but you also knew that they would only be a confirmation of what you suspected.

With careful precision, you scanned the perimeter of Mrs Miller’s house, hoping to find a way in without having to break anything mainly to avoid someone hearing. Someone, being that thing that Mrs Miller kept locked in a room. Thankfully you saw that a window of the ground floor was left slightly open, so you didn’t let the opportunity go to waste and you slid in with ease.

Balancing on the edge of the window frame, you put a feet on the ground inside followed by the other - you didn’t miss this place one bit. You had to squint your eyes to adjust your eyes to the sudden darkness, but you managed to see how everything was exactly how you and Dean had left it.

Taking cautious steps to avoid getting hurt due to the glass shattered on the floor, you made your way to the staircase. The silence was odd, in your opinion, the only sounds came from you as the wooden stairs cracked under your every step. Sometimes you wished you could fly, but not everyone had that fortune nowadays.

As you reached the top of the stairs, the smell that hit your nostrils was something you wished you weren’t used to. Rotten meat, that’s what it was, but you kept walking. Thankfully the moonlight was filtering through those nasty windows or else you wouldn’t be able to see your nose in there. You entered carefully in what seemed like a bedroom, a girl’s bedroom.

Cassandra’s pictures were shattered on the ground, the furniture was overturned and most of her belongings were broken on the floor. You walked further into the room and the smell got so bad that you had to cover your nose and mouth with your hand. You expected to find a cadaver inside the wardrobe once you walked over there to open it, but you let out a sigh of relief when all you found were dirty clothes and dead flies.

You scanned the room once again and your eyes fell on the ground, where a stack of paper was scattered all over the carpet. Kneeling down, you picked them up.

You couldn’t read anything as the writing seemed frenetic, and surely the poor light didn’t help. You heard a sudden sound coming from somewhere in the house, and your body reacted before your mind could; you tucked the papers in your pockets with the intention of bringing it back home and try to make light of the situation there.

You decided to keep looking for any clue that would give you some answers, and you made your way in the hallway. You kept walking cautiously and you stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed a door that was different from the others. It was made of iron and it had different locks of different sizes, clearly made to keep something inside.

Bingo.

You knew what was hiding behind that door, you had seen it from the window the other day. Before you could process how you were gonna act next, a soft, feminine voice made your blood run cold.

“Help.” It pleaded. “Please, help. I’m hungry. Open the door. I’m hungry. Please help.”

You blinked a few times, taking a few steps away from that door. You knew that whoever talked was probably Cassandra, but you also knew that she wasn’t her anymore. Those things could imitate voices to lure people. Knowing that, you didn’t even know yourself why you hesitated before leaving, all you knew is that it was probably too late as soon as you heard the sound of jiggling keys in the background accompanied by Mrs Miller’s voice.

With quick reflexes you turned to leave immediately, but the next door you approached was locked and the light was nonexistent since there wasn’t a single window in that corner of the house. You heard Mrs Miller’s steps walking closer, and you thought you were gonna be screwed soon enough…

… except that a pair of hands clamped over your mouth, shutting out any sound you could possibly make. You tried to break free but the stranger was incredibly strong, even stronger than you.

The next thing you knew, you were lifted from the ground momentarily, and then you heard the faint sound of what you associated with a trapdoor closing nearby. As soon as the little lightbulb hanging from the ceiling was turned on, you realized that if it wasn’t for your incredible self control you would have killed somebody.

Bucky Barnes was looking at you with his jaw clenched, but what caught your eyes were those two fucking idiots behind him - and Dean was giggling.

“What the fuck is going on?!” You demanded, as you saw those three fuckers looking at you. Bucky, unlike Sam and Dean, was visibly pissed.

“You’re the one asking that?” Bucky spat, as he was still gripping your wrist. “Leaving the house in the middle of the night like an idiot. What? You thought I wouldn’t hear you?”

“Wait, you came here alone?” Sam asked, looking over where you were sitting.

“Yes, I came here alo- what are we doing here? And how did you get here so quickly?”

“I followed you, you idiot.” Bucky said, his voice sharp with anger as he released his grip on your wrist. “You could have been killed down there. That lady is walking around with an axe, in case you didn’t notice!” He was angry but the sounds below made him keep his voice low - you weren’t out of danger yet.

“A what?!”

“A bloody axe.” Dean clarified, with that smug face still on.

“What are you fucking smiling about?” Bucky’s anger shifted momentarily from you to him, his eyes narrowing in frustration.

“This wasn’t in my bingo card tonight. I mean, what were the odds? First we find you, then you find her - what’s next? Us being torn apart by an hysterical lady?” Dean chuckled, but he was clearly tired.

“I wouldn’t take that out of the equation.” Sam said, leaning back on the wall as you all were sitting on the ground. “I’m too pretty to die again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? You could have been hurt.” Bucky turned to you again, after all you were his main concern. He was on this mission together with you and you were his teammate, not them. So it was understandable that he was worried for your safety, whether he liked you or not.

You glanced over at Dean before you sighed, finally relaxing your muscles after almost being found inside Mrs Miller’s house by Mrs Miller herself while she was walking around with a damn bloody axe. “I haven’t totally been honest with you.”

“No shit.”

“Listen, I wanted to be sure about everything before I told you.” You said exhaling. “Mrs Miller isn’t the only problem around.”

“Don’t you think I hear that fucking thing right now? It’s scratching the door, locked in the room below us.” At Bucky’s words, your eyes fell on the ground. With the silence, you heard it too.

“Then now you know what I was looking for! Stop asking stupid questions!”

“Can you guys fight another time?! Whatever problem you have with one another can wait!” Sam huffed.

“I personally have no problem at all.” You shrugged, gaining a death glare by Bucky. “Listen, I didn’t tell you not because I don’t trust you or anything, formally speaking you’re one of the best agents we have and I have to trust you for this mission.” You spoke sincerely. “But I wanted to be sure and… I know what it is. And I know it’s not going to hurt me.”

Bucky was about to say something when he was cut off. “What do you mean by that?” Dean joined the conversation, now serious, as he looked at you. “That’s a Wendigo - they hunt humans for food, Emma. Of course it’s going to hurt you.”

“What the fuck it’s a Wendigo now?” Bucky felt like smacking repeatedly his head against the wall.

“The Wendigo is a former human that turned into that thing downstairs due to cannibalism. Could live up to hundreds of years eating human meat, but the thing I don’t understand is why Cassandra became one so soon.” Dean explained, scratching his forehead in frustration.

“Which is why we came. She had to eat meat - human meat in order to transform, so someone must have been… you know… giving it to her.” Sam continued.

“Not necessarily.” You shook your head. “We suspect she was taken due to her knowledge about Hydra since probably she got too close to the truth about the patient she was treating, right? Well, you can also turn into a Wendigo through a bite or if its blood it’s mixed to yours and in that case, the transformation requires a few days if it doesn’t kill you first.”

“How do you know that?” Dean frowned.

“Hydra made me watch.” You shrugged.

“What doesn’t make sense is… we suspect she was taken, as you said, due to her finding the truth about what Hydra does to people - but they’re the ones who keep leaving corpses around so they must be the ones that want people to know. Why take her if she did what they wanted?” Sam asked

“Maybe those bodies weren’t meant for her to find” You suggested.

Bucky stayed silent for the whole conversation, processing everything he was hearing. He wasn’t even surprised, it was perfectly in line with the other atrocities Hydra did. “Are you guys sure it’s Cassandra the thing downstairs?” He didn’t question much considering that for the first time ever since he met the two brothers, he was actually believing what they were saying.

“Not really.” You answered. “But it’s a possibility. I don’t see why that woman would keep it locked in her house if that creature didn’t use to be her own daughter.”

“What do you know about the Wendigo?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you. He couldn’t recall you ever mentioning such creature before. “I’ve been with Hydra for seventy years and not once did they mention anything about this. So how come you know?”

You took a moment to look at his face, before finally giving him an answer - and probably one he didn’t expect. “I am one.” You said. You couldn’t hide it any longer if you wanted to move on with the case.

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crowwritesaway · 12 hours

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Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 1/3

“No.” You giggled. You refused to sit on his lap. “Just tell me what she said.” You stared at him. He pouted, stretching out his arms to you. “Come here.” He huskily said, urging you to come into his arms.

“Nuh uh.” You shook your head. He sighed, letting his arms drop. “Here’s a new life lesson.” He stood up and quickly pulled you into his lap. “Bucky!” “Y/N!” His playful said, wrapping his arms around you.

You huffed, staring down at him. “What did she say?” He stared at you. She’s so beautiful. Bucky licked his lips. You stared at him. “Bucky. Hello. Anyone there?” You shifted your weight in his lap. Bucky grunted. “Got your attention.” Bucky nodded his head. “More than my attention.”

“You were saying.” Bucky said, pulling you in closer to his chest. You cleared your throat. “What she want from you?” Bucky leaned back into the chair. “Who?” What girl? You scoffed. “You’re joking. She was just here.” He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know what you were talking about. “The one that knock at the door and you talked to before you slammed the door shut in her face.”

Bucky sighed. It all came back. Earlier some girl came to the door. What you didn’t know what that girl was your friend. Bucky nodded. “I remember now.” You laughed. “What’s got your mind all preoccupied? Should I be worried?” Bucky smiled. You are what occupies my mind, my soul, and my heart.

“Just you. Nothing else.” You hummed. “Hmm…did she say something to upset you.” Bucky eyes darkened. He felt the anger that had simmered come back for a moment. Your friend has planned to take you out. In response, Bucky slammed the door after saying that you had plans with Bucky. “She spoke out of line. Just nonsense so I closed the door.”

“Alright.” You didn’t question him any further because you saw him staring off which meant he was getting upset. He pulled you down to cuddle. He snuggled into you. “You comfortable.” Bucky was such a teddy bear. Grumpy sunshine. Steve always said he was clingy with you. He glances at the time when he’s away from you. He grumbles about missing you. “You have no idea.” He mumbled into your neck. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” He coldly laughed. “Is that a challenge that I hear?”

“You know there’s a bet that Natasha proposed at the party.” Bucky grumbled. His grip on your hips tighten more. “Nope. That’s not happening.” “Why?” Bucky moved away from your neck to make eye contact. You sat up to look at him. “Why?” He licked his lips before shaking his head. “It’s 48 hours where we can be together. 4 hours is a lifetime without you. I can’t imagine going through 48 hours without seeing you.”

Stay around for more of Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

——— —— — ———— ——————— —— — ————

#dark bucky x reader #dark bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x reader #yandere bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #Clingy Bucky Barnes

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buckyalpine · 6 months

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Give me Beefy Bucky who is shy yet obsessed with how soft and little you are compared to him. Compared to his thick, wide shoulders. His meaty, firm thighs. His huge, heavy balls. His perfectly fat, split you in half cock.

“C‘mon bunny, put ‘em both in your mouth” he whines with puppy eyes, spreading his legs more while you nearly choke trying to fit his balls in your mouth. The delicious scent of his musk makes you moan with your mouth full, his heavy sac already throbbing. “Want you to suck them both at the same time”

“S’too big” you pout, cupping and rolling him in your palm, giving your aching jaw a break. He blushes at your words, his curved throbbing cock jumping against his belly.

“You have such a cute little mouth” he whispers with a soft smile, the pink on his cheeks deepening when you shove his thighs apart again, dipping your head to take them in your mouth, “oh fuck just like that, use that tongue, suck them nice and hard, don’t care if it hurts, suck them harder bunny”

He’s a feral little (beefy) fuck, holding your head in place while rutting himself against your face. The shallow breaths you take in between with your mouth full make his tip weep and he can’t help but reach down to stroke himself, using his thumb to spread his arousal around. When he finally can’t take it, he grabs and flips you onto your back, splitting your legs open and humping himself between your folds.

“Fuck you’re so tight bunny” he shudders above you as he pushes your thighs to your chest, folding you in half, making you hold your knees apart. He pumps his cock a few times while staring at your slick hole dripping and fluttering for him.

“Look at your little pussy” his voice is between a whine and a whisper, pressing just the head of his cock into you making you moan, his tip alone stretching you. He doesn’t even fucking move, pulling it back out and pushing just the head in, his lil caught between his teeth watching his perfect pink tip disappear in and out. “How are you gonna take all of me bunny,you’re already stretched open”

He’s not even taunting you. He’s blushing so much because he can feel the way you quiver around him already and he isn’t even inside properly. “Can feel you sucking me in baby, you want more? That’s just the tip bunny, so sensitive for you, m’already making a mess”

“More Bucky, fuck me, please” you plead with him, pulling your knees back further, tightening around him even more.

“Oh God” he plunges himself into you without warning, drawing his hips back and slamming them back in making your body bounce with each thrust. You sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with the powerful snap of his hips.

He looks feral, eyes fixated on where his cock disappears in and out with each thrust, your sweet mixed cream squirting out of you each time he shoves himself back in.

“Look at the mess we’re making together baby. So. Fucking. Pretty. You’re so pretty when you’re all stretched open bunny, pussy was made for my cock, you take big dick so well, you’re such a good girl, my good girl made for fat cock”

You nearly wail as he speeds up, panting and grunting, your belly bulging each time. He’s sitting back on his heels so he can watch exactly how much your pussy opens up for him, that needy button between your legs equally desperate for attention.

“Why’s are you so tight around my dick baby, can’t even last when I fuck you” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try and collect himself but it’s pointless. His cock starts to swell, drops of cum already starting to spurt out. He’s trying so hard to hold back but his body can’t stop moving, chasing the way your pussy chokes his length.

“M’mph-gonna cum-“ he chokes out, his movements growing sloppy and erratic, the bed banging the wall. “Gonna pump you full of cum baby, gonna make you wet the bed with how much cum drips of you”

“Cum in me Bucky” your nails dig in his shoulders, gasping when he sits back and spits onto your clit before rubbing it in circles.

“Such a cute little button making you scream so loud, you sound so beautiful like this” he gives it a pinch and you shatter around him, desperate squeals making him moan louder.

“Gonna milk my cock dry, gonna give you a thick load baby, there’s so much cum in my balls, in my dick, I can’t hold it, it’s so swollen, S-o sensitive- FUCKKK” he lets out a broken sob as he starts to throb ropes and ropes of his warm spend in you, the sheets soaking what your pussy can’t hold.

“Got the sheets all wet bunny, can feel it on my thighs-

Anyway. As always I’m sorry for this.

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thevillainswhore · 5 months

Text

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

5K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 2 months

Text

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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scoonsalicious · 1 day

Text

Unsatisfied, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Following the epilogue to Unwanted, you and Bucky finally have your first night together in your new apartment. You haven't had sex with him in an entire year. You are feeling... unsatisfied.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, mentions of past trauma, Pocket has a panic attack, she is not as okay as I thought, Cards Against Humanity, Bucky making dirty promises I fully intend for him to keep.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: My goal tonight was to work on WFLT. I had good intentions, I swear. But, I can't get Bucky and Pocket out of my mind. THEN, this was supposed to be smut. Pure, filthy smut. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!

You loved your found family, you really did. Or, at least that’s what you kept reminding yourself as you actively tried to convince yourself not to kill them right this second.

You made eye contact with Bucky from where he sat on the loveseat across the living room from you, looking about as sexually frustrated as you felt. You ran a finger delicately along your collarbone as you watched him adjust himself in his seat, and as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, you–

“Hey, Kiddo,” Tony Stark called your attention to where he sat to the left of you. “Pick a Black Card. It’s your turn.”

Reluctantly, you drew your eyes away from your ridiculously attractive boyfriend and up to your psuedo-brother, former boss, who thought it had been a fantastic idea to have your entire team show up with pizzas to your brand new apartment, on your very first night there with Bucky, in order to play fucking Cards Against Humanity as a “morale-boosting exercise.”

Cock-blocking exercise was more like it.

You shot Tony a glare and reached across the coffee table to draw a card. Looking at it, you rolled your eyes in frustration before placing it face-up in front of you. “What gets me wet?” you read aloud from the card.

You were met with a room full of snickering as your teammates thumbed through their hands, searching for the best card to give to you. Bucky threw down a card almost immediately, catching your eye as he did so and winking at you. God, you needed everyone to leave so you could climb that man like a tree.

One by one, your team deposited their White Cards into a pile in front of you, and once everyone had played their hand, you picked them up, shuffling them around so you wouldn’t know who had put down what card.

You turned each over and read it aloud, asking each time: “What gets me wet?”

“Being a mother fucking sorcerer; Vehicular manslaughter; German Dungeon Porn; My fuckslave, Regianald; Auschwitz– ew; come on guys, really?-- My vagina– okay, actually factual– Dick Fingers; A juicy little booty that goes poot poot pooty; The Biggest, Blackest Dick– hilarious, Sam…”

“What?! You can’t know that’s mine, Baby Girl!” You shot Sam a knowing look. “Yeah, okay, it’s mine, but come on– it’s a good one!” he said with a laugh.

And then, there it was, the winner. You looked up and locked eyes with Bucky, who was smirking back at you with a wicked glint in his eye, and you knew instantly it was his card you were holding in your hand.

Flipping the card over, you read out loud with a giant smile on your face: “What gets me wet? Genetically engineered super soldiers.” Everyone around the coffee table groaned, knowing that there was no way any of their cards would have topped that. Not for you, anyway.

With a grin, Bucky reached over and took the Black Card, adding it to the pile of his wins in front of him.

“Ugh, no fair!” Nat pouted, gently tossing her hand of cards on the top of the coffee table.

“You gotta play to your audience, Nat,” Bucky said, spreading his legs as he leaned back on the love seat. “Can’t help it if I know what my girl likes.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re cheating,” Sam said. His words were meant to be playful, a sore-loser’s teasing lament, but you couldn’t help the rush of heartache those little syllables sent through your system, and your body froze.

It had been almost a year, you thought to yourself as you tried to breathe through your increasing anxiety without attracting unnecessary attention. A year of therapy and rebuilding trust. You were meant to be over this.

But clearly you weren’t.

“Excuse me,” you blurted out as you stood up, not bothering to offer an excuse for your rudeness or sudden departure. Trying to keep your breathing steady, you nearly sprinted out of the room and up the stairs until you were shutting the door of the ensuite bath in yours and Bucky’s master bedroom. The room you hadn’t even shared together yet, and now, on your first night in your new home, when you should be celebrating, becoming reacquainted with one another’s bodies, it would be permeated with thoughts of her.

You slid down the door to the cold tile floor, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to shake the memories from your mind’s eye. But they, and your tears, began to fall in earnest. Despite what you knew to be true– that Bucky loved you, had only ever loved you, your mind kept bringing you back to the events of last year– of all the times he abandoned you for her, left you alone when she needed him. The things he had said to you while he was inside of you because she had told him she liked it. The sight of her riding his dick in a derelict safehouse in Russia. Your bones snapping and a bullet ripping through your flesh.

You couldn’t breathe. God, why couldn’t you breathe?

You shoved your fist into your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. You were supposed to be over this, you kept reminding yourself. You were supposed to have forgiven him. But the memories brought about a visceral reaction you hadn’t experienced in months. Today had been meant to be a new beginning for the both of you, a fresh start. Something better, you had promised each other.

Why did it still hurt so much?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You could have been hyperventilating on the bathroom floor for minutes or hours; you couldn’t tell, when a soft knock reverberated through the surface of the door.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Doll, I can hear you crying. Let me in.” His words were soft, understanding, sorrowful. He knew.

You couldn’t move. You wanted to open the door, to lose yourself in his embrace so badly, but you couldn’t control your body enough to coordinate movement. All you could do was hug yourself as you sobbed.

“Pocket,” you heard Bucky murmur through the door. “Baby, I need you to breathe for me, ok? Your gonna make yourself pass out. Just… just unlock the door, alright? That’s all you have to do for me, sweets. Just unlock the door.”

Unlock the door. You could do that. One, simple motion. You slowly lifted a trembling hand above your head, connecting with the doorknob by sense of touch, alone. With shaking fingers, you managed to disengage the lock.

At the sound of the click, you heard Bucky exhale in relief. “Okay. Good girl. I’m gonna come in now, okay, sweets?” You knew you should move– you were still curled up in front of the door, but you couldn’t get your body to cooperate. You tried to speak, but the only sound that came from your throat was another agonizing sob.

You heard the knob turn and the door begin to press against you. With gentle but steady pressure, Bucky opened the door, sliding your body across the bathroom tile in the process, but you barely noticed. He would always be a force that had the ability to move you at his will.

When there was enough space for him to fit his body through the door frame, Bucky squeezed himself in and turned to look behind the door, searching for you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, dropping down to his knees to join you on the tile. In an instant, he had you in his arms, picking you up and cradling you to his chest.

“I-I-I’m…” you stuttered, trying to form words through your sobs, “s–s–so s-s-sorry.”

Bucky tutted as he stroked your hair. “No, sweets, no. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He kissed the top of your head, and you found that your breathing began to steady in his presence. “My actions keep causing you pain.”

You shook your head vehemently, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as if your very life depended on it. “No,” you whispered. “It’s not… It’s not you.” You closed your eyes, trying to mold your jumbled emotions into a cohesive thought. “This place is supposed to be safe,” you told him, hoping he would follow what you were trying to say. “Ours. And then… when Sam said… that… it was… it was like her ghost walked right in the door. She’s still haunting me, Buck.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, “what do you need? What can I do?”

You wiped at your eyes and looked up at him with a tear-streaked face. “Tell me you love me, Bucky.”

His piercing blue gaze was honest and sincere as he looked down at you. “I love you, Pocket. I have only, ever, loved you.” No questions, no ridiculing your request for reassurance– just pure understanding that this was what you needed from him

You felt yourself exhale, the tension that had been wracking through you ebbing away as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, Buck,” you whispered back. “I’m sorry– I thought… I thought I was better.”

His face was soft as he looked at you. “Doll, you are getting better. It’s a process. We’re a process. And we work on us, together.”

You snorted in spite of yourself as you wiped your nose. “How the fuck did you get so goddamn wise?” you asked him. “It’s mildly annoying.”

“Ah, there’s that dirty mouth I love so much,” he smirked at you. “Come on.” With a gracefulness that belied his massive size, he lifted you up and carried you back into the bedroom, gently placing you on your new bed.

“Oh, shit!” you said, trying to stand up. “Everyone’s still downstairs–”

“I kicked them out as soon as you left the living room,” he told you, coming to kneel before you as he pulled you back down. “Serves them right for interrupting our first night living together when we haven’t touched each other in eight thousand, seven hundred and forty three hours.”

You widened your eyes. “Not that your counting, or anything,” you said with a giggle, and were rewarded when Bucky smirked up at you.

“There’s my girl,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I know we had big plans for tonight,” he said as he rested his vibranium hand on your knee. “And trust me when I tell you, there is nothing I want more than to strip you naked and take you apart on every single surface of this apartment until you can’t remember your own name.” You gulped at that. “But,” he continued, “all that can wait. Tonight, I’m gonna go back into that bathroom, light some candles, and run us a bubble bath. Then, you and I are going to get in that tub and I’m just gonna hold you, okay?” You found yourself nodding dumbly at the sensual promise.

Bucky leaned in close to you, tucking a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. “Tonight,” he reiterated, “I just want us to be close. And then tomorrow?” He leaned in to whisper seductively into your ear. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

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