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missvelvetsstuff · 2 days

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No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

I try to keep my Reader description vague but she's a she and above average height

Here goes nothing

Chapter 1

Warnings: Swearing, mostly angst, eventual happy ending.

Y/N, or Cookie to her friends, was at her desk, trying to finish her report so she could leave work early for one of Tony Stark's parties. This wasn't her first time but tonight her bff and mostly secret crush, Bucky Barnes, was escorting her. It wasn't the first time for that either but tonight felt different. Usually they met at the elevator but when they spoke earlier he said he would pick her up at her room. They had been getting closer in the last few months and even Steve and Sam had commented about Bucky's behavior towards her.

The night was everything she had dreamed, Bucky was attentive and always had his hands on her, respectfully of course but more intimate than he usually was. They danced much of the night and when slow songs came on he pulled her close and she could feel his breath on her neck, causing chills.

Towards the end of the night, Bucky pulled her to the elevator and kissed her until they reached his floor. They were in his room, her dress gone before she could think twice, not that she would have.

She could taste the Asgardian ale on his breath, blending with the tequila on hers. Everything was a blur of flesh and feelings she had never experienced before. She couldn't get enough, neither could he.

Y/N opened her eyes to bright light and a bedroom that wasn't hers. The pounding in her head a reminder of how much she drank last night. She looked around and realized it was Bucky's room, where she spent so much of her time. Suddenly, she realized that she was naked and her stomach dropped. She had hazy memories of shots and kisses that turned into more. The kiss in the elevator. She smiled even though her head hurt, she had been crushing on Bucky since the day they met and was amazed that he actually wanted her too.

Cookie wasn't your typical beauty, taller than most girls and with more curves than your typical agent. Of course, she wasn't a field agent but was the lead intelligence analyst on the east coast reporting directly to Maria Hill.

She reached over to find his side of the bed was cool but figured he must have gone on his morning run with Steve and Sam. She sat up and saw a bottle of water next to some pain killers, which she downed, grateful that Bucky was so thoughtful. Drinking the entire bottle of water she realized she really needed to pee. Standing slowly so as not to irritate her headache she grabbed one of Bucky's t-shirts to cover herself and went to relieve herself. When she was done she went back to sit up in bed and check her emails for today's agenda.

When she was responding to a message from Maria Hill the suite door opened and Bucky came in, sweaty and gorgeous. He saw her curled up on his bed and smiling up at him.

"Morning Buck. Good run?"

He nodded and smirked "Yeah, Sam whined at us to wait up but we just lapped him until he shut up"

"Sounds fun. Since it's Sunday and nothing is scheduled, why don't you take a shower and come back to bed?"

Bucky felt his heart stop "Look doll about last night. You know you're one of my best friends and I love you but I don't feel comfortable getting into a real relationship right now. I still have so much work to do on myself. Last night was great and I was thinking we could have one of those friends with extras, or whatever it's called. You know, to blow off steam."

Her stomach dropped and she felt her eyes filling up "You mean friends with benefits?"

He nodded enthusiastically "Yeah, that's it." he smiled hopefully.

Y/N was quiet for a minute before responding, was it worth the almost guaranteed heartbreak to have more nights like last night? She shook her head, unwilling to take that risk again.

"I'm sorry Buck but I can't do that. I get attached and end up heartbroken. I can't sleep with people that I don't have romantic feelings for."

His eyes grew wide "Wait, that means you have feelings...." He trailed off.

She nodded whispering "Yeah, I do."

Bucky's face dropped "Shit, Cookie, I'm sorry. I thought we were on the same page last night. I don't know what to say. I mean, I might develop feelings over time but I don't know. I don't want to make any promises, you know?"

She swallowed the sob that tried to escape "You don't have to say anything, we can just pretend this never happened. Ok?"

She got up from the bed, clutching the sheet to her and desperately searching for her dress from last night. When she found it she quickly put it on not realizing it was inside out.

He nodded but wasn't feeling too sure of that, he could hear her heart speed up and see her hands shaking "Yeah, sure, nothing has to change."

She smiled at him sadly, tears escaping "I uh I just remembered some paperwork I needed to finish up. I'll catch you later."

"Wait doll. I-"

"Don't worry it's fine." She cleared her throat "I could use a little space and just have work to do." She kissed him on the cheek before rushing out.

Bucky stood there, not sure how to proceed. He didn't want to lose his friend but really didn't feel like he could handle a relationship now. The stress relief from the great sex they had was something he could handle and he did have feelings for her, since the day he arrived at the compound but he knew she deserved a better man than him.

**Flashback**

Y/N was in her office reviewing some reports to glean even the smallest details before they went to the appropriate briefing packets that the field agents would use to form their strategy, when she received a text from Captain America himself, requesting her presence in the common area.

She put away all of the classified info on her desk, locked it and locked the door on her way out. She took the elevator which opened into the common area and was surprised to see a large group of agents already there.

She heard Steve shout her name "Cookie! Over here." and saw his hand waving so headed in his direction.

Steve gave her a hug and pulled away excitedly "Look Cookie, it's my friend, Bucky."

Cookie smiled and offered her hand. When Bucky looked at her she felt her breath catch, holy shit was he gorgeous, way hotter than the pictures in his file "Pleased to meetcha Sargent Barnes"

Both of them felt sparks when they touched but Bucky responded like she had burned him pulling away quickly. Cookie's smile dropped for a second before she forced it back.

Bucky looked at her through his long hair "You too, ma'am."

She could see how he was shrinking into himself, trying to look smaller so she stepped back to give him space.

Steve looked at them both oddly but smiled softly when he heard how fast her heart was beating and the slight blush on Bucky's face. That was a look he remembered from so many years ago, when Bucky met Dot.

**end flashback**

The next few weeks were tense, Y/N and Bucky barely spoke outside of Avengers business. He was always busy, rushing to train or something every time she tried to talk to him. The guilt on his face showed everything, he hated that he hurt her but missed their time together. As soon as he saw her look at him longingly, before she realized he was looking and wiped that look from her face, he had to leave. He hated himself because he knew it hurt her more every time he avoided her but he just couldn't handle seeing her and being reminded of the pain he caused.

There were other, senior agents being trained by Steve, with Bucky and Sam, to prepare for an upcoming mission. Sifting through all the related Intel was keeping Y/N up at night and her haggard appearance had been noticed by most of the team.

They had a meeting to start going over the Intel to plan their strategy. On her way in, Y/N ran into Sharon Carter who she had worked with previously.

"Hey Agent Carter, good to see you."

Sharon laughed softly "Please, Y/N, we've worked together enough for you to call me Sharon."

Y/N laughed awkwardly "Um yeah, Sharon. So how have you been? Any luck finding the power broker?"

Sharon shook her head obviously frustrated "No, he's crafty for sure but we'll get him. Rumor is this mission relates to him."

Y/N nodded, "yeah, all of the serious crime in eastern Europe seem to lead back to him." She looked up and saw Nick Fury striding towards them and straightened her shoulders "Director Fury."

He nodded at her "Agent Y/L/N. Carter. Why don't we get this started, Cookie." He looked down at the container on top of her papers.

Y/N went to the front of the room to sit next to Fury's spot at the head of the table, setting the container in his place. She saw that Sharon sat next to Bucky and started talking to him, touching his right arm and laughing softly. Y/N saw Bucky smiling and felt her chest ache, her stomach cramp up and her throat dried since apparently all the water went to her eyes. She sat down and Sam, the only one who knew what happened with her and Bucky, gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand.

They held hands through the entire meeting, Bucky and Sharon touching hands under the table. He never liked people touching him except for Y/N but apparently he made an exception for Sharon because he just sat smiling. He never even looked towards Y/N.

When the meeting ended, Bucky and Sharon were the first ones out the door as he quickly led her to his room.

Y/N could barely breathe and rushed to her own room, glad it was on a different floor from Bucky's because she didn't think she could handle hearing him and Sharon go at it.

For the next couple of months it went like that. Bucky and Sharon spending most of their time in his room and Y/N trying to stay busy so she didn't think about it. They were hands off outside of his room and insisted they were just friends when Sam mentioned they were always together. Bucky heard Sam grumble about how Y/N used to be the one he wanted to hang out with, but blew it off. Nothing wrong with having a couple of friends. And Y/N didn't want a casual relationship while Sharon was down for everything and was teaching Bucky a lot.

Sharon was friendly with Cookie in the beginning but started being nasty to Y/N, calling her names and throwing out barely veiled insults when Bucky wasn't around, and did everything she could to keep them apart. Not that Bucky ever seemed to notice, too wrapped up in the constant sex to see much else. Even at team functions Sharon worked to keep her away from Bucky, so much that Y/N just avoided the both of them when at all possible.

Y/N was depressed and missing her friend. She had lost weight and had dark circles under her eyes which she claimed were from working all hours. Time wasn't helping at all, she still had dreams about that night and felt an ache in her chest every time she saw Bucky. A couple of times he tried to talk to her, invite her for the movies nites that she never attended anymore but Sharon always started whining for him and Y/N took the hint and made excuses that she had paperwork or needed sleep, anything to avoid them.

Bucky, Sam and Sharon were offsite for a few days so Y/N could pour herself into work and not worry about running into them.

Late one night she was talking to one of her informants in Latvia and the connection was weak. She claimed to have the details on the Power Broker but static kept interfering with the connection.

Y/N heard banging

"Marta?! Marta are you ok? What's going on?"

There was more banging and a clicking noise then she heard Marta crying and begging.

A muffled womans voice came on the line "You better back off of the Power Broker or you will regret it"

Y/N was pissed "Who the Hell is this? Where's Marta? What did-" she heard a gunshot and the crying stopped.

The voice chuckled "She's unavailable and if you don't wise up, you will be too."

The call disconnected.

Y/N had tears in her eyes. She had met Marta a few years back, she had kids, a family. Now Y/N took that weight and swore to whoever was listening that she would make sure the Power Broker paid for this on top of all the other death and destruction.

Y/N refused to stop and eventually passed out on her laptop. She woke to a loud knocking "Y/N you in there? Fury got a package and wants you in his office 20 minutes ago."

Y/N sighed, Maria Hill. "I'll be down asap."

15 minutes later she was out of breath on her way into his office. "Cookie, there you are. I don't know who sent this but both of our names were on it so I'm hoping you know what's up."

Y/N looked over the package, Latvian stamp no return address. She sighed "Looks like it's from one of my informants in Latvia. I was on the phone with her last nite when she was shot. And a distorted womans voice told me to back off of the Power Broker or I'd be next."

Fury nodded "Alright well let's see what she had."

Y/N carefully opened the package which included a large white envelope that felt like it was full of pictures and a zip lock with a post-it that said 'fingerprints'.

Fury called an intern in to take the prints for processing as Y/N pulled out a stack of pictures. Her jaw dropped as her heart sped up and she began to shake. There was one thing the pictures all had in common......

Sharon fucking Carter.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #no benefits #bucky barnes x sharon carter

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scoonsalicious · 1 day

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Unwanted: Chapter 25, Unprotected - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

WARNING: THIS PART HAS A MAJOR THEME THAT SHOULD HAVE A WARNING, BUT I DO NOT WANT TO SPOIL THE PLOT. THEREFORE, IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU FEAR YOU MAY NOT BE ABLE TO HANDLE, *PLEASE* DM ME FOR THE WARNING BEFORE READING!

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Uh... something went horribly wrong.

A/N: BUCKY IS BACK, and just in time <3

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

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

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!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You weren’t sure what woke you up– the incessant beeping or the dull ache between your legs.

“Ugh, Sam, turn off your fucking alarm clock,” you muttered, pulling your blanket above your head. When had the apartment lights gotten so hideously bright? “Sam’s not here, doll. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, and you slowly pulled the blanket down from your face. You were lying on a bed in the middle of a hospital suite, and Bucky Barnes was sitting in an armchair in the corner. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t done anything but worry and fret since arriving.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked him, fighting to keep your voice steady. You’d hoped time would have helped lessen the pain you felt at the sight of him, but no– he still tore at your heart.

“You never changed your emergency contact,” he said, getting up from his chair to sit at the edge of your bed. Lovely. You were going to have to re-traumatize yourself because you hadn’t been assed to update fucking paperwork.

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. “What happened?” you asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Bucky said. He reached for you but you, but you pulled away, leaving him to frown at the space where your hand had been. “All they would tell me was that your distress beacon was activated, and when SHIELD operatives responded to your safehouse, they found you passed out in a pool of blood. They had you in surgery when I got here.”

“Surgery?” You began patting your body, searching for bandages or stitches, some sign of an incision, but you found nothing. “I don’t feel like I had surgery.”

Bucky shrugged. “That’s all they told me. Since I’m technically not family, they wouldn’t say anything more.” You scoffed. He was a lot less than ‘technically not family’.

“Well, I’m not dead,” you said dismissively, “so no reason for you to stay.” You shooed him away with a flap of your wrists. “Go on home now.”

Bucky snorted. “All laid up in the hospital and still, you got jokes,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Sam called Steve on his way to the airport, told him what went down with A.J., so looks like you’re in need of a new mission partner.” The smirk behind his eyes was enough to make you sneer.

“No,” you said, crossing your arms, and you were sure you looked very intimidating in your hospital gown with an IV sticking out of your hand. “I’m good, thanks. Don’t need any help, especially not yours.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Always so stubborn,” he chided. “Doesn’t matter what you want, doll. Captain’s orders; I’m here to stay, at least until Sam gets back.”

Fucking wonderful. As if you didn’t have enough to worry about, with girls getting murdered, Hydra funding the Wiggle Room, you randomly bleeding out and collapsing, and poor A.J.’s condition still unknown. Maybe there was something so seriously wrong with you, they’d make you go back to the Tower to recover and Bucky would be forced to stay down here, alone. God, was that actually what you were hoping for, now? Your life had indeed gone to shit.

There was a soft knock on your door and a man in a white doctor’s coat and glasses entered, carrying a clipboard.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued: “I’m Dr. Carson; I’ve been attending to you during your stay with us. I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You barked out a humorous laugh. “Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked by a cactus, Doc. Care to explain what the hell happened to me?”

Bucky suppressed a snort as the doctor blushed and averted his gaze. “Yes, well, it’s quite normal to experience some mild discomfort following a D&C,” he began.

You sat up straighter, positive you had misheard him. “I’m sorry,” you interrupted, “a fucking what now?” He couldn’t have said what you thought you heard him say.

Dr. Carson coughed. “A Dilation and Curettage,” he explained. “It’s a procedure to–”

“Oh, I know what it’s fucking is,” you said, raising your voice. “What I don’t understand is why I would even need one in the first place!” Except you did. There was only one reason, and it made everything make perfect sense– the vomiting, the fatigue, all of it.

Before the doctor could answer you, Bucky spoke up: “Uh, I don’t know what it is. One of you care to explain to me what the hell all this means?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Barnes,” you grumbled, just as the doctor spoke over you:

“It’s a surgical procedure that requires dilation of the cervix and the removal of tissue from the uterus,” he said. “In this case, that would be necrotic fetal tissue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Um, okay,” Bucky said as he considered the doctor’s words. You watched as the realization came over his face. “Holy shit. Fetal tissue? Like… like a baby?”

Dr. Carson nodded slowly. “Yes.” He turned back to face you. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. (Y/L/N), but it appears that you’ve experienced what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. Near as we can figure, you were about sixteen weeks along.”

You brought both hands to your temples. Was this real life?

“Were you not aware you were pregnant?” the doctor asked, taking in the look of complete shock on your face. “When was the date of your last period?”

Before you could control yourself, you began laughing with the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. “I’ve been slightly preoccupied,” you managed to get out. “Between the baby’s father” you thumbed at Bucky, “cheating on me with my greatest enemy, working undercover to save a bunch of women from sex trafficking and now solving a murder, too, I guess, so forgive me if I haven’t really been keeping track.”

The look Dr. Carson gave you then was a mixture of concern and alarm, and you were fairly confident he was this close to having you held for a mandatory psych eval. Good; you could benefit from a vacation.

“Could, you, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat, “give us a moment alone, please, doctor? I’m sure Pock– I mean (Y/N) needs a minute to collect herself, to process.”

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Carson said, seeming relieved that one of you appeared sane, at least. “I’ll send a nurse over in a little while to check your vitals, and we can see about getting you discharged.”

Bucky nodded and offered the doctor his thanks on your behalf, because you were still laughing. Dr. Carson left the room, his haste evident.

“Pocket,” Bucky said, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him. “Pocket,” he tried again, this time grabbing both your shoulders in his hands and gently shaking them. “Hey, get yourself together, come on!”

Your laughter tapered away and you wiped a tear away from your eye. “Oh my god,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry, but this is just… I’ve been running around pregnant for four fucking months? Come on! That’s, like, an entire third of a year! You gotta admit, that’s fucking insane!”

Bucky studied you. “You really didn’t know?”

You snorted. “Of course not! If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, because I would have taken care of it the second I found out.”

A frown took over Bucky’s face. “What do you mean, ‘take care of it’?” he asked.

“I mean, like, I would have aborted it,” you said, as though the answer was so unbelievably obvious that it was stupid of him to have even asked, but Bucky’s frown deepened. “You can’t honestly think I would have kept it?”

“It was our baby, Pocket,” he said after a beat, his voice a rough whisper. “You would have killed our baby?!”

You rolled your eyes. “What? Just because you knocked me up, I’m supposed to forget everything you put me through and play happy co-parents with you and step mommy Carthage for the next eighteen years? No fucking thank you.”

“I would have married you,” he said, and you noticed for the first time that his voice was full of sorrow, his eyes lined with tears. Jesus Christ, this was hurting him. “We would have raised him or her together. Been a family.”

You laughed, the sound harsh and awkward to your own ears. “There’s no way in hell I’d marry you,” you told him. “Not after what you did. A clump of cells doesn’t just absolve you from your sins.”

“That was our child,” Bucky said, with so much anguish in his voice that you pulled yourself back. “That was a baby we made, out of our love, and you’re talking about it like it’s… it’s inconvenient garbage.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the trash took itself out,” you said bitterly.

Bucky looked at you in abject horror. “You don’t mean that,” he said, as though trying to convince himself as much as you. “You’re… you’re in shock. You’ve been through a trauma, and you’re not thinking straight.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he reiterated.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, James.” You turned your head away from him, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you, as if you were a complete stranger.

The suite’s door opened again, and a nurse came in, dragging a portable computer cart behind her. Saved by the vitals, you thought.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky said under his breath, and you sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to table this discussion for long, but not knowing what he hoped to get out of you.

He couldn’t seriously have expected you to want to have had a baby with him, could he? Not after everything. To be forced into close proximity with him for the next two decades, and be tied together for the rest of your lives with a constant reminder of what could have been, should have been, with what he prevented you from ever having? That was just… delusional.

Even though, if you had given yourself a chance to truly think about it, outside of the initial shock of it all, that was what you would have wanted, too.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#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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rookthorne · 3 days

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

To find one to dance to the Devil’s call was a rare thing, but you found your match in the least expected place.

The only problem? A small, little girl that was determined to never let her new friend forget that she was home, too.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 2.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Fluff, domesticity, pancakes are a love language, heated kissing, implied adult discussion (doesn't actually happen in the fic), very light angst (anxiety)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ The awaited sequel is here! ୨୧ I think it's a very possible eventuation that I am addicted to writing this smug, arrogant, son of a— ୨୧ A very big thank you to @smutconnoisseur for being my soundboard for this fic, and for helping me make the ending the best it could be — I am so damned grateful.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ older by Isabel LaRosa ୨୧ Lose Control by Teddy Swims

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Mutual Pining (March), Domestic (April) — Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were slow to wake the next day. The sun had not yet started to bleed through the curtains on the opposite side of the room — it couldn’t have been any later than sunrise, you hoped.

The night before had been one hell of a shock to your system, and you could still feel Bucky’s lips ghost over yours if you just thought hard enough; or how his voice lowered to a tenor that shook you to your core. All night you dreamed of more, chasing that forbidden high he supplied wholly and fully — a willing and far more enthusiastic half to your own.

Naturally, there were going to be obstacles and challenges to navigate to the possibility of a relationship — one of which you could hear parading up and down the hallway with fast, little footsteps.

After Starlet’s pressing interrogation while you readied her for sleep — a surprise that she (impressively) cornered you with — that it may be more of a smooth reveal than you could hope for, but still, nerves boiled and bubbled in your stomach, clinging to your insides like glue.

No point delaying it any longer, you thought, and you threw the mountain of covers off of your body. Though the indiscernible noise of the plush mattress moving underneath your sleep-stiff body was a siren call for small ears, fortunately, or unfortunately.

The door creaked open just as you lifted your head off of the pillow, and a figure, their head no taller from the floor to the handle, peered inside. “Hello?”

You blinked and sat up further. “He– Oof!”

In a blur of stripes and polka dots and a tangle of hair, you were knocked back onto the mattress with two thin arms around your neck. “Fawn! You’re here! Did you st– Why are you here? Did daddy let you sleep–?”

“Let her wake up, baby,” a deep voice said from the doorway. It neared as they said, “And I told you, no playing upstairs.” The weight moved from your front to your side, and you saw a toothy, bright grin that could belong to no other than Starlet. “There she is.”

You looked to the side and saw Bucky standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a dark cotton shirt and grey sweatpants while his hair lay loose and mussed. Every last comprehensible, coherent thought fled your mind and pooled in your stomach, and Bucky knew as such — the blue of his eyes darkened with a knowing glint, turning them stormy grey.

Get it together, you intoned — outwardly, you said with a rasp, “Well, good morning to you two.”

“Good mornin’, Fawn,” Bucky said, beaming down at you. “Did you get some sleep, love?” The weight on your side pressed harder while Bucky spoke.

“Good, good, good morning,” Starlet sang, her smile as wide as her father’s.

A light laugh flowed with your words, “Yeah, I slept well, really well, thank you. Wait– Do I smell–”

“Breakfast! Daddy started it already because he is the best.” Bucky put a hand over his heart and inclined his head, before dramatically wiping a non-existent tear. Starlet shook your shoulder to get your attention and said, “Do you like coffee? I can press the big button on daddy’s machine for you!”

“Sure, honey,” you said, and before you could offer to help her down from the bed, she took off like a shot towards the door and down the hall. “Well, that went better than I could have hoped…”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, then he looked at you; a piercing stare that rooted you to the spot. “You feelin’ okay, baby?”

You gulped. “Y– Yeah, I am, are you?”

There was a beat of silence, the tension mounting by the second, when Bucky rounded the end of the bed to stand right next to you. His hand brushed the side of your neck, then his thumb lifted your chin.

“Never been better, Doe,” he murmured, and he leaned close to kiss you softly. It was a fleeting, chaste brush of lips, but it didn’t fail to stir up the heat that had been left simmering from the night before. “We’ll talk later, but come down and get some breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed, though it sounded more like a wheezed gasp than a reply. “I– uh–” You cleared your throat and sat up more. “I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Bucky’s lips, and he nodded when a yell from downstairs echoed up the well, “Daddy!”

Bucky sighed and turned towards the door. “What?” he called back.

“I wanna give Fawn one of my cups for her big girl drink!” You snorted a laugh while Bucky walked towards the door.

“Starlet Barnes, I swear to Gramma Winnie that if you’re up on that damned stool–” His voice trailed away while he made his way down to stop his daughter from injuring herself.

The covers came away with a rustle, and you moved to stand up and stretch.

The adjoining bathroom to the guest bedroom was just as opulent as you could have expected — marble tiles lined the floor, and some type of gleaming tile decorated each wall. It was coloured with deep, moody tones, and as you fiddled with the shower, steam billowed through the room.

You took a deep breath, letting the steam fill your lungs. The racing thoughts slowed as soon as the water pelted against your skin, a soothing pattern that allowed you to distance yourself from the worries of what was to come. “It’ll be okay,” you murmured to yourself, cupping your face in your hands. “It will be okay.”

After some time passed, you stepped out from the guest room, dressed in a set of clothes Bucky left for you. It was a shirt, and a pair of soft, worn slacks — they were beyond comfortable, and you yawned as you began to make your way to the stairs.

But you froze as you reached the top of the stairs. Bucky was talking quietly, his voice soft. “Don’t bombard the poor girl, baby.” The scrape of utensils on a plate echoed, and then the drag of porcelain over tile. “She’s stressed—can’t have any more on her shoulders, can we?”

You leaned forward over the balustrade to look down into the kitchen. From your vantage point, Starlet was sitting on a tall stool and Bucky was next to her, cutting up her pancakes with care.

The distance made it hard to discern the quiet words that Starlet uttered, but you caught them, nonetheless. “Can I make her a picture, daddy?”

Bucky beamed at his daughter. “‘Course you can, honey. I think Fawn would love it; she might even stick it on her fridge at home–”

“But home is here; she’s staying here isn’t she–?”

“Uh–” Bucky’s voice was strained, dumbstruck with the implicit question not unlike the interrogation you survived through by the skin of your teeth the night before. “Honey… I, uh– Fawn–”

“But you smile a lot when she’s around,” Starlet insisted.

There was no air, you couldn’t pull any into your lungs; it was sapped from the atmosphere, vanished without a trace to leave you reeling at the top of the stairs. “Shit,” you muttered.

After a long moment of silence, where you could physically watch the gears turn in Bucky’s head on how best to assuage and sate his daughter’s curiosity and downright accurate observations, he spoke. “I know, baby. Fawn is very special to me; she’s kind, she’s funny, and she’s very pretty. But you’re my priority, Starlet—always will be.

His thumb brushed her small chin, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She takes good care a’you and that’s what’s most important.”

You could almost hear the unspoken undercurrent of meaning in his words, and it made your stomach flip.

However, nothing could have prepared you for what Starlet said next.

“She makes you happy, daddy,” she said, almost a whisper. “I like seeing you smile—uncle Steeb said it’s important to be happy.”

“Oh,” you gasped, and your hand flew to cover your mouth. Tears from overwhelming tides of emotion flocked your lash line, blurring your vision.

“I guess it is, honey,” Bucky said softly.

It took a long while to gather your senses while you stood on the balustrade, hand still clutching the stair rail for support. The powerful waves of emotion battered against the walls you had so weakly placed around your heart, and in your own disbelief, you wondered how this could have happened so fast — not long ago you were holed up in your apartment looking for work when you stumbled upon that advertisement. You jumped at the chance, and it landed you here, in a position where you were stuck between a rock in a hard place.

To confess and ruin your prospects for your job but possibly gain something so much more or keep your thoughts to yourself and pray that it fizzled on its own.

And even then, you knew you were asking for a miracle; that kiss still lingered in your mind, overshadowing your waking thoughts with more than inappropriate fantasies of just how experienced he was.

You shook your head, willing the thoughts to quieten down, at least until after breakfast — Bucky said the two of you could talk about that kiss. That would be the time to find answers, you reasoned.

Slowly, you took the stairs one by one, sure to make yourself heard and known. The living room and kitchen was flooded with natural sunlight that streamed through the trees that lined the edge of the property, and on the edge of the counter closest to you was a bouquet of white roses, wrapped in white cellophane.

Bucky looked up from his daughter’s plate and smiled widely as he took you in. The softness of his eyes made your heart ache; a yearning to stride forwards and embrace him. “They’re for you, Fawn,” he said, nodding to the roses. “Little miss Starlet helped me pick ‘em out for you—as a thank you,” he added as you tilted your head in confusion. “Had ‘em delivered this mornin’.”

“You didn’t have–” You started, but Starlet began to fuss.

“And I did a little picture,” she gushed, pointing at a small piece of paper placed carefully between the numerous bulbs.

“She did,” Bucky agreed.

You smiled, just a twitch of your lips, and you walked towards the arrangement. The roses were in full bloom, their beauty bewitching and soft, tender — just like the love you held for the pair in front of you. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered, touching the outer ring of petals with the pad of your index finger.

The crayon drawing depicted a princess between a knight and a queen, their gowns flowing in a rainbow of colours, and the knight’s armour gleamed white from the imaginary sun in the top corner of the paper. You looked towards Starlet and smirked. “And now I have a perfect addition for my fridge.”

Starlet positively beamed with pride.

A plate loaded with an assortment of breakfast foods replaced the bouquet, and you glanced down — Bucky cooked each morsel to perfection, and you couldn’t help but feel your mouth water from the aromas that spliced the air. Complex notes of browned butter and sugar mixed with the heady, salted scents that could rival a five-star restaurant.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Buck–? Were you a chef?”

Bucky laughed and hung his head, and to your surprise, a blush started to bloom over his cheekbones. A few strands of loose hair fell from behind his ears, and you felt faint with the need to tuck them back, while also conflicted with the lust to run your fingers through it from root to tip and pull.

“I’ve been around for a while, honey,” he chuckled, throwing a hand towel over his shoulders. His hands held the edge of the counter, and he leaned forward, pushing his weight onto his wrists to make his biceps bulge — it was an effort to focus only on his face. “Learned a lot, all that sh–” His gaze snapped to a preoccupied Starlet who happily ate her pancakes while swinging her feet. “Sugar.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “I can imagine.”

The three of you tucked in and finished breakfast with little incident — Starlet determinedly rambled on about how many new drawings she was going to complete that afternoon, all while Bucky encouraged her and poked into her ideas with a cheeky, mischievous nature. It was no wonder that Starlet caught on and stared at her father with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll show you,” she huffed, and she pushed the empty plate away towards him. “May I be excused?”

“Yeah, baby, you go get what you wanna show me,” Bucky said smoothly, picking up the plate. “Fawn and I will be here waitin’.”

Starlet dashed off with her unparalleled enthusiasm, and you looked back towards Bucky to start a pleasant conversation, when the words died on your tongue. The blazing want in his once cerulean eyes had vanished behind the inky black of his pupils, and his eyes were darting back and forth from your eyes to your lips, where they lingered.

You watched, enraptured, while his tongue ran over his bottom lip. “I– Hmph!”

His lips collided with yours while his left hand cupped your jaw, his right pawing at your waist. Your feet stumbled clumsily backwards, only able to go where he put you, and your back hit the fridge door. The force of it made the appliance rattle.

It didn’t deter you from giving him your all — the raw passion behind the kiss fueled the simmering fire into an inferno, the heat of it lapped up your spine and wrapped around every last nerve.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed against your lips, pulling back to gasp for air. “I couldn’t resist any more, baby—can’t fuckin’ get enough a’you.”

Desperation clawed at your insides when you realised you were in the damned kitchen of all places, and Starlet would be back at any second. “Shut up and kiss me,” you demanded.

Bucky growled low in his throat and surged forwards, claiming your lips again only to nip at your bottom lip with his teeth, soothing it over with his tongue. Your fingers wound through his loose hair that fell to his neck, the softness a luxury you couldn’t help but need more of — you pulled and revelled in the hitch of breath against your lips, the way his hips bucked forward.

A small moan vibrated your throat, and he grew more insistent, demanding in his fervour. It was only when he pulled back to mouth open kisses down your neck did you hear him groan with need. “Fuckin’ need you now, Doe.”

“Yes, yes,” you panted. “Fuck, please–”

Small, fast footsteps came from the loft above the kitchen and Bucky hung his head, his forehead landing on your collarbone with a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I need you.”

You blinked and shook yourself inwardly. “I– Fuck, yeah, me too.”

Bucky pulled away from your body with a thoughtful frown. “I want you.”

The way your heart lurched into your throat from your chest was almost painful, and you gulped around it. “I– Oh, god.”

“I jus’ wanna get a feel of where your head’s at, yeah?” he said softly. “I need to make sure that you want this as much as I do.”

“That– Yeah, I do, I really, really do–” You tried, furiously working your throat to swallow, though your mouth was dry.

Bucky smiled and squeezed your waist with his hand, and he pecked you on the lips before he pulled away. “Don’t you worry, baby. I want you here with me, and with her.” He nodded towards his approaching daughter, who was occupied with carrying rolls and rolls of paper. “I know she does too.”

The words, while they were whispered against your lips, they came with a promise, one that entailed your whole future.

Starlet’s excited tone pulled you from staring into Bucky’s eyes, and you smiled as she held up some of the rolls of paper for you to take. “Come on, Fawn,” she rushed, giggling. Her small hand grasped yours, and then pulled you along.

Deep, rasped laughter came from behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see her father watching the two of you with bright eyes; a glint of adoration in them that made the blue of his irises so much deeper.

“I want you,” he mouthed, and he inclined his head to look at you, then he turned into the kitchen to supposedly grab his cup of coffee.

“What’s taking you so long?” Starlet asked, indignant. She stood to your side with her nose scrunched in annoyance — an expression you knew she inherited from her father. “I have these to show you and daddy.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, sweetheart,” you soothed, squeezing her hand.

She took the assurance and dashed away. You watched her as she guided you towards the couch in the living room, and you heard heavy footsteps behind you — Bucky was following slowly.

“Honey, please don’t pull her arm off,” he teased, and Starlet only huffed. “We need her, remember? Who’s goin’ to let you stay up past your bedtime then, huh?”

You blinked. “That was not my fault–”

Bucky took a sip from his mug, smirking behind the rim. “I know all, I see all—can’t hide shit from me, baby,” he whispered, and he winked.

The narrow-eyed stare you sent him only made him laugh, and somehow, the sound soothed your worries, and you knew it was going to be alright.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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shamrockqueen · 10 hours

Text

Omega retreat : chapter 4

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, General Discomfort, nothing is what it seems, fluff, heart ache

Word count : 2131

Masterlist

He was very understanding when you asked him to give you time to think about his invitation. It was the turning point you hoped to avoid just a little longer, appreciating instead that you could be just like any other normal girl. Yet, some things couldn't be left on the back burner.

The untouched notification continued to light up your inbox, no doubt just being the website’s way of ensuring their reservation went through and they would be paid.

You turned over to look at your phone and the little banner still sitting at the top that said, “You’ve been invited to reserve a cabin by JAMES BARNES.”

It was fitting that he’d picked the Gold Package, and you had to admit, a sexy getaway was incredibly tantalizing.

Yet, everything felt rushed, and you knew exactly why. You knew you were always going to give in, but ever since that conversation at the hospital, you wanted so badly for every choice to at least be your own. Something you wanted to do, not be coerced by circumstances.

You told yourself every second after you’d logged into your computer, your eyes still heavy with broken sleep, that this was still your decision. Accepting the invite would be your decision, no matter what reason you had to make it.

With one simple click, it was done, a cascade of hearts flooding the screen as their little mascot hopped around with joy. It was cute, yet still a little cheesy.

You set the computer aside before laying back on the bed and letting the small streaks of sun coming in from the window warm your skin. You felt so oddly relieved, yet still so anxious. It was a good start, better than what you had before.

A small ding sang through the peaceful morning, and once again you emerged from your little sheet cocoon to grab your phone from the nightstand. It was a message from Bucky, and he seemed as excited as ever to have gotten your confirmation.

‘Good morning :D’

You smiled at the message, feeling more relief spread through your tired body as you typed back.

‘Morning. I take it you got the notification.’

You watched as those three dots jumped inside the prospective chat bubble before two popped up at once.

‘I did indeed.’

‘You have no idea how happy this makes me.’

Everything he said always seemed to make your heart blossom with a new feeling of warmth. It really put into perspective how tiring all that stress and anxiety really was when it finally started to disappear.

Expressing his eagerness through text must not have been enough for him, as the phone buzzed to life in your hand before you could type another reply.

You didn’t hesitate to answer it, and your belly fluttered at the low rumble of his voice as it sang through the speaker.

“Hey, doll”

“Hi. You miss me already?”

You heard him chuckle softly, probably smiling at the bashful tone in your voice. “I hope I’m not coming on too strong.”

“No! I think it’s really sweet.”

It was nice to have someone care this much about your needs, especially above their own. It was someone who wanted to take care of you at what may well be your weakest.

You hear him clear his throat for a second, shaking the sweet and sugary vibe that the conversation had started on. “Do I have the date right? If not, then I can fix the reservation..”

“No, you remembered very well. I’m actually surprised.”

“I guess I’m just excited.”

“That makes two of us; I’m practically shaking in my boots.”

He laughed back at your goofy little retort, and you giggled nervously along with him.

“I was kind of afraid you’d say no.” His voice seemed to fall again as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of a few insecurities of his own. “Like, maybe I scared you away.”

“As if.” You laughed it off immediately, bemused at the thought that he’d consider himself anything more than the teddy bear he’d shown you.

“I needed some time to take it in for a second. I just felt so much in the moment, ya-know.” You smiled down at the phone as you spoke, hoping you could melt his fears just as he did yours. “Believe me, you're not scary one bit.”

You swear you could feel the laugh he’d let out as you chuckled with him.

He’d talked to you for hours, showering you with compliments as he finalized the details of your trip.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take that time off? It is pretty soon.” You stepped around your kitchen, looking for a mug to pour some coffee into. Bucky watched your shapely form as it moved across his screen, smiling to himself before you turned back to the phone and caught his eyes wondering.

The conversation had since evolved into a video call, letting you see the actual smile on his face. There would be glimpses of the rough grain in his facial hair and the deepening blue of his eyes, but there were finer details that you couldn’t see.

You wanted to see so much more, and soon you will. That thought alone made you feel so much happier.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers, leaving a thick lock behind his ear and a few strands to fall back across his forehead and cheek.

“I’ll be just fine; help to be your own boss.”

“Oh? Big boss, man, huh?”

He huffed a chuckle before he spoke back, “A story for another time, but I’ll tell you now it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

You gave him a little pout.

“What about you?” He asked, in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation back to the original question.

“Oh, I always get my heat off. It’s kinda like that for Omega’s.”

You were more than lucky to work in an environment that was so welcoming to people like you, and you were sure that your supervisor would understand.

“Makes sense..” You watched his eyes wander from the screen as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. It looked so out of date that it was no wonder why he only used the webcam on his computer.

“Nice flip phone, grandpa.”

He laughed back at you with “gee thanks, doll” before tossing down the bad news. “I gotta go.”

“Awe, already.”

“Yeah, nothing like a work emergency on a Saturday.” You watched him toss the phone on his desk offscreen before turning back to you. “I can’t wait to see you, Omega.”

“I can’t wait either, Alpha.” You felt his eyes shift as you spoke, as if finally hearing you say his denomination so diffidently.

You tapped the red button on the phone screen, ending the call before you turned it off and set it aside.

By mid-afternoon, you’d since decided to knock out a few of your household chores. You were already elbow deep in some soapy dishwater when you heard another familiar ringtone. You fumbled for the dish towel nearby to dry your pruney fingers before grappling with your phone.

You accepted the call and called back a sweet greeting to one of your favorite people.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a few days..” Her concern was sweet, but you were quick to cut her short, not wanting another reminder of the previous incident.

“I’m fine, mom.”

She sighed back, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.”

“Any news?” Her voice lightened, truly hoping there would have been an update on your condition and even more so that it was promising.

There was plenty of news, wonderful news that you weren’t ready to break to your worrisome mothers just yet.

Better now than never, it seemed, “I met someone.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t sound happy, and every second afterward that she left you in silence made your once-airy mood deflate.

"He's uh...He’s an alpha.” Your jaw only tightens further as you wait for an answer back. Anything would be better than another ‘oh?’

“Well, that’s nice. W-where did you two..meet?” Her discomfort was never easily hidden, but at least she was trying.

“We met on this dating site, and we’ll be spending some time together soon.”

“I see. So is it a date to a cafe or dinner?”

“We’re going away for...." You struggled to find the words, "...it’s just this vacation rental somewhere quiet and calm.”

“Oh, a getaway. Sounds nice, but... you know your cycle will be coming soon. It’s probably best to be careful.”

“I-I'll be taken care of..."

“Are you sure? I can always be there to take care of you in case of another emergency.”

You felt your stomach tighten a little as she spoke.

“That’s actually why we’ll be out of town.” Your toes shifted along the floor, carting you to the fridge so you could grip the handle to better hold yourself upright.

She didn’t answer back right away, only giving you a weak “you can’t do that.”

It made the blood freeze in your veins, leaving your body tense against the refrigerator. “Mom..”

“Do you have any idea what might happen to you all that way from home?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“The hell you do. You can’t do this. I can’t lose you.”

She seemed to spiral nearly as badly as you did.

“If I go through another heat without a partner, you fucking will lose me.” You nearly wailed as you yelled back into the phone, only to be met with a few moments of dead air.

It made the frantic beat of your heart seem louder and louder. Proof that no matter how calm the waters felt, you couldn’t escape the truth that swam beneath them.

“Sweetheart, I only want you to be safe.”

You knock your head back against the fridge before letting your body slide along the side of it, letting the newly mounting anxieties drag you down to the floor. “I’m not safe alone, mom.”

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to wait for all this, and it’s not fair.” Her voice was just as weak as yours was now.

“It’s fine; I need to grow up sometime.” You said back, pulling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to wallow in this disparity anymore; you were so sick of it all. It takes a single thought—a glimmer of hope shining through the dark clouds that have begun to circle around you.

You thought of Bucky.

“B..James’ is nice; I think you’d like him.” You had to quickly correct yourself, knowing his nickname had been sweet to you but could seem silly to others. You still remember the abashed laugh you gave when he first told you.

“Iâ€¦good, that’s good.”

You knew that wasn’t what she wanted to say, and now you weren’t afraid to say it instead.

“You think you’d like him more if you’d gotten to meet him.”

“I didn’t say that, but yes.” You hear her voice wavering as she speaks. “I’m glad, though, that he’s nice. I hope you have fun on your trip.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“Please be safe, sweetheart. I love you.”

You sighed for a second before telling her you loved her too, and the call came to an end. You were still hugging your knees, nearly curling in on yourself in your kitchen. The floor was uncomfortable, and you finally unfolded yourself and pushed off of it. You missed the careless feeling you’d had while talking to Bucky, lamenting how easily your mood had dipped like a sinking ship.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair at all. Just when you thought you could escape the anxiety, it rounded its ugly head around each corner. Well, this time you wouldn’t be taking it lying down anymore.

You used this new momentum to spur yourself through the house and towards your bedroom. You bolted for your closet, determined now only to look ahead to your chance to get away from it all. You tore through your hung clothes, wanting to find anything that could impress your perspective, Alpha.

You found yourself leafing through more khaki shorts than you’d realized you’d owned. Faded sundresses and worn-out old sandals littered the pile, along with plain cotton panties in contrast to any lacy lingerie.

You still had a long way to go before you truly felt comfortable in your own skin. But certainly, a little shopping could do some good too.

There was a fire in your belly, burning you forward like an angry locomotive.

It will be a cold day in hell before anyone takes this opportunity away from you.

Tag list : @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault

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purple-babygirl · 12 hours

Text

in the far corner of the forest V

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 7,790 (you love me)

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: 18+ content, mentions of bruised skin, idiots in love, feels, a little crying, a little angst, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (don't do that), multiple orgasms. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part so far and no condolences to the jealous (iykyk) i love and appreciate you guys with my whole heart. also i suck at smut so please pretend to be aroused as you wait for the next part, thank you. please enjoy xx💜💜

She wiped her tears away, remembering Bucky’s words as she tried to calm down.

She bit her lip as her chest tightened at the pain she had heard in his voice, deeply regretting her part of the fight.

Did he really think she thought he was without feelings?

She might have seen him as a monster before, but that was in the very beginning when she didn’t know him at all, and she soon came to realize that she was wrong. Very wrong.

Her orc wasn’t a monster by any means. Not even close. If anything, it was the complete opposite. She saw him as a resilient soldier and admired the way he never lost the good things about him at war. To her, Bucky was a warrior; a hero.

Human or not, of course she treasured and cared about his feelings!

Bucky took care of her, brought her gifts without her ever asking, made her feel seen and heard and most of all liked. Loved even. He made her feel like she was some awesome friend worth laughing with and talking to.

She wanted to make sure that she made him feel the same way too. She couldn’t let him continue to believe the words he had said to her.

She opened the door of the cottage and looked outside, but Bucky was nowhere to be found. She sighed, shutting the door again and pressing her back to it as she thought about her next steps.

Life with Bucky was what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that truth.

She fetched the cloth she had tossed away before moving back to the kitchen.

She had only known real happiness alongside Bucky and she was going to let him know that. She was going to whip the cream for that cake even if they had to do without berries.

She was almost done smoothing the whipped cream over the cake when she heard the door to the cottage open and close.

She quickly rinsed her hands, ready to go out and make things right.

When she stepped out of the kitchen, however, she was met by the most endearing view she could have ever been met with and it rendered her speechless.

Her large snow orc was standing before her with a blush on his cheeks and a tiny fruit basket between his giant arms.

It was full of mixed berries.

She couldn’t hide her happy surprise as she stared at the sight before her, her mouth opening and closing a few times.

“Bucky?” She finally whispered his name, breaking the silence, her voice soft and laced with love.

Damn, that orc could steal hearts.

“I— uhh— borrowed the basket from Sarah,” Bucky muttered, pushing the basket forward for her to take as he avoided eye contact.

He really sucked at this and he knew it, but he was trying. He desperately wanted to make everything better. He knew he couldn’t take the yelling or the bruising back, but he badly needed to fix what he had so stupidly ruined, and the berries were his best bet.

She appreciatively took the basket out of his hand, hugging it to her chest.

“I’m sorry if they’re not as good as the ones you picked. It’s— it’s my first time uhm— picking berries,” Bucky admitted lowly, gesturing with his hands as his eyes wandered anywhere but on her, afraid of meeting her eyes and finding them disappointed or fearful still.

It was true. It was his first time doing any of this. Bucky was a rough orc. He did hunting, not foraging.

“They’re perfect,” she replied without even looking at the fruits, the gesture itself enough for her as she realized that under all this beef, her orc had hid a heart of gold and a softness to die for.

Bucky only nodded awkwardly, still unable to meet her eyes. He didn’t know how to act or what to say.

He was a soldier. He used to give orders and expect results, he didn’t do apologies or pluck raspberries as gently as possible in order not to squish them between his huge fingers.

She silently took the basket to the kitchen, a smile covering her face as her heart jumped.

Bucky walked in after her, leaning on the door frame and watching as she emptied the berries in a bowl and washed them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their earlier argument hanging heavy in the air.

“How’s your arm?” Bucky asked softly, swallowing in the fear of having left some serious damage on her.

Her smile faltered for a second when she remembered the way he had so harshly grabbed and held her, “it’s gonna be okay. Just a tiny bruise.” She reassured still, not wanting him to feel bad anymore.

Bucky’s fingers trembled as he ran a rough hand through his unkempt hair, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience.

“I hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I really am sorry, little human.” Bucky sincerely apologized again.

Before she could reply, he stepped closer, taking hold of her hand before lowering his lips to her forearm.

The feeling of Bucky’s tusks ever so softly digging into her skin as Bucky left tender kisses all over the abused area made her shiver.

“I’m sorry; I’m a fool,” Bucky said into her skin as he pressed another kiss, “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.” He pressed one final kiss before letting her arm go, “I will never doubt you again, sweet thing. Please forgive me.”

He stood there with the bluest puppy eyes, silently begging for her clemency as his hands hugged hers.

“I forgive you, Bucky.” She nodded with a shy smile, her own guilt gnawing at her insides as the fire that had rose on her skin in the wake of Bucky’s lips dissipated.

“It scared me when I came home and didn’t find you. I— I thought you were leaving me again.” He confessed lowly, “I didn’t know what to think.”

“I know. I should’ve at least left a note,” she thought out loud, her head down in regret, “I thought I would be home before you arrived so I didn’t feel the need to write one. I’m sorry, Bucky.” She gave his hand a desperate squeeze, “I really didn’t mean to scare you or make you feel like I was running away.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky smiled softly, regretting how poorly he had reacted as he brought her hand to his lips.

She was amazing. His night’s firefly.

“I don’t think of you as someone who doesn’t have feelings, Bucky,” she blurted out, her voice quivering with sincerity. “The kindness you show me... it's unlike anything I've ever known from humans. It's genuine, and real, and it's the reason I wanna be with you.”

Bucky listened in silence, an appreciative smile breaking on his handsome face.

“I care about you, Bucky, and I respect your feelings more than you know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to keep you when you didn’t want to stay, but it still hurt every time you left,” Bucky finally voiced his thoughts, sharing a part of his feelings and fears with her.

“Who—” She stopped to clear her throat, “who said I don’t wanna stay?”

“So you wanna be here for good? With me?” Bucky’s eyes lit up with hope as he intently watched her.

“Well, I made a cake, didn’t I?” She wouldn’t let her eyes meet his as she placed the berries on top of the smooth cake, her heart drumming in her chest.

“Let me hear it, sweet thing,” Bucky begged, unable to believe what he was hearing from her despite everything that has happened.

“I thought I’ve said it before,” she tried to tease, “and I’m wearing your ring, Bucky,” she chuckled shyly, her face hot.

Bucky kept waiting, wordlessly pleading her to tell him the words he so badly needed to hear.

She looked at him and saw passion drawn all over his face and she could only imagine she looked the same.

“I… wanna be here… with you, Bucky, for good,” she said before biting her lip, her own admittance sending a shudder down the back of her hot neck.

The simple sentence hit Bucky like a warm cup of cocoa on a stormy evening as he smiled.

He grabbed her hand and gave the palm of it a long kiss, getting berry residue on his cheek.

Thankfully, she didn’t take her hand away, giggling softly as her orc got his skin stained.

She smiled timidly when he pulled away, wiping his cheek clean with her other thumb.

“I know I haven’t made it easy for you, Bucky, but you’ve got to trust me. I don’t wanna leave you, not now, not ever.”

Bucky nodded, his heart soaring at the reassurance, “I trust you, little human.”

“Let’s eat our cake?” She asked, biting her lip.

Our. It was the first time she has ever used that word.

Bucky nodded with a grateful smile of his own, carefully carrying the cake out to the table outside.

She grabbed plates, forks and a knife and followed him.

Her heart was beating like crazy, yet it was the most relieved it had ever been now that they have made up.

She handed Bucky the knife and he cut through the cake.

She took the chance that he was busy and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering against his warm skin for a fleeting moment, “welcome home”.

Bucky could feel his chest burning up with the love it held for her.

For years, he had believed himself unworthy of love, of kindness, of anything resembling happiness. But in that short second with her lips on his cheek, he felt a twinkle of hope ignite within him, dispersing the darkness that had cloaked his heart for years.

The commotion that happened earlier had made him forget all about his kiss, but she didn’t.

She kissed him and with a smile too.

Bucky was love-sick, her gentle features stirring unparalleled emotions inside of him, softening his rough edges without even trying.

With a hesitant hand, he reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against the smooth skin in a silent promise of devotion. And as she leaned into his touch, cupping his hand with her tiny one, Bucky took an oath to cherish her, to protect her, and to love her with every fiber of his being for as long as he lived.

“Is there anyone around left from your tribe that I can meet?” She asked after Bucky had filled their plates with cake, interested to know more about her husband’s life as she handed him his fork.

She couldn’t help her curiosity anymore. She cared about Bucky and she needed to know why he was out here on his own. Where was his clan? Did he even have one? Do they know about her?

“No, just the two very close human friends,” Bucky sighed his answer before slipping a raspberry in his mouth, his thoughts running to his clan; the clan that had rejected and abandoned him years ago.

Okay, but where were the orcs? Now she was more curious and confused.

“What about your family?”

“You’re my family,” Bucky answered without hesitancy and she felt her heart flood with love as she speechlessly stared at his face.

“Where did you see me?” She wondered aloud, her tone hushed as she ached to know how and when he got to choose her.

“At the orphanage,” he started, a smile already spreading on his face as he recalled the memory, “me and Sam were delivering chairs and a few beds for the new rooms they had built.”

She listened, knowing exactly what he was talking about. She was part of the group that was instructed to clean the new building.

“I had just taken a bed down from the truck when I felt something drop on my head and before I knew it, it was raining. I was wiping the raindrops off my forehead.” Bucky’s fork played around with the berries on his plate before he looked up and into her eyes, “and I let my arm down and there you were, breathtaking as a daydream, laughing with another girl as you both ran inside before the rain could catch you.”

“How did I not see you?” She whispered, eyes welling up at the adoration she could see in his gaze.

“You were too busy being scared of the rain,” Bucky teased, “but I saw you.” Bucky’s thumb stroke drown her cheek, “I saw you and I knew I just had to see you again.”

“So that was when you asked the manager if I could be your wife?” She bit her lip, the thought now flattering to her rather than appalling as it used to be.

“No, that was when I intentionally slammed a chair down on the concrete and broke it to pieces so we could be one chair short and I could come again and hopefully sneak another peek at you.” Bucky laughed, remembering Sam’s reaction as he watched the chair he had so carefully put together get smashed down, “Sam wasn’t so happy about me destroying his work”.

“Oh my gods,” she laughed with him, feeling bad for poor Sam.

“Yeah, he didn’t believe me when I said I dropped it, swore he wasn’t coming with me that next time and everything. It was a whole thing.” Bucky shook his head as his laughter faded into a soft smile.

“Can’t blame him.” She shrugged with a grin.

“He was fine.” Bucky waved his hand in the air, “I honestly only cared that I’d secured myself a chance to come back.” He admitted unapologetically.

“And did you see me when you came back?” She asked, her elbow on the table and her cheek resting on her hand, cake long forgotten.

“Yeah, I had to sneak to the back to see you, but I did. You were even more beautiful that day,” Bucky told her, making her blush under his affectionate gaze, “you had a messy flower crown on top of your head and you were taking laundry down from the clothesline. You were so focused as you tried to pull the clothes down without getting on your tiptoes,” he chuckled, recalling how cute she was as she struggled to reach the peg clips.

“Hey! They hung that clothesline way too high! No one could reach it!” She shook her head.

“Yeah, I’m sure they couldn’t,” Bucky teased, laughing at her defensive reply.

“They couldn’t, I swear! Not just me!”

“I believe you,” Bucky said with a provocative smile.

“You’re annoying.” She pouted, digging her fork in her cake slice.

“Nah, you’re just too little, little human.” Bucky teased again and she couldn’t help her smile.

It was all making sense now as she admired his gorgeous grin: the yearning for Bucky’s touch when he wasn’t there, the longing for his presence that had replaced her previous fear or repulsion, and the way she so desperately looked forward to the weekends so they could hold hands as they walked and talked could only mean one thing.

She was in love. She was in love with Bucky and she didn’t want to run from that feeling.

“I— I think I’m in love with you,” she admitted in a tiny whisper.

A smile lit Bucky’s face up before he gave her forehead a long kiss, trying to convey his adoration for her as he held her close to him, “I know I’m in love with you, little human.” He sighed in her hair.

He couldn’t believe she said it and he couldn’t believe she said it first. He couldn’t believe how far they have come and how beautiful life could be.

But he knew now and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Bucky finally had someone who loved him and cared about him; someone he could trust and surrender his heart to.

She stood on her tiptoes, making him chuckle as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him so close that he could feel her heartbeat.

“They renounced me a long time ago,” Bucky whispered in her hair, feeling brave enough to open up to her about his past.

Her heart sank at the gut-wrenching piece of information.

“What?” She pulled away in shock, “why?”

Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the idea of a clan having Bucky and willingly letting him go.

“My mother was a human; wanted to name me James, but she died during my birth, heart condition,” he started, closing his eyes to stop his tears from forming, “they eventually did name me James, but I think I never liked it. My grandma gave me the name Bucky, from my middle name ‘Buchanan’. She was the one who raised me because me and my father weren’t close. He could never forgive me for taking my mother away from him, I guess.” Bucky shrugged, swallowing his emotions.

She listened silently, her own tears brimming. What kind of father does that? Bucky had already lost his mother and instead of being there for him, his father made him lose him too?!

“Before I knew it, I’m a teenager and my father had passed away and my grandma before him… I had no one left and my cousins weren’t about to let the half-orc with the human mother become chief.” Bucky sighed as he recalled the events of his youth.

She stayed in his arms, hands on his chest as she listened closely, her heart breaking at the expression on her orc’s face.

“And when I started ‘working with the humans’, they found the perfect reason to kick me out of the clan for good.” He finished with a sad smile, shaking his head as if to shake the memories away.

“That was when you started fighting for the kingdom?” She asked, softly running the back of her fingers down Bucky’s cheek as a tear rolled down her own.

“Had nowhere else to go.” Bucky shrugged with a teary smile, trying to pull himself together.

“But that was where you met Sam, right?” She reminded with a tender smile, her thumb tracing his stubbly chin.

Bucky nodded with a chuckle, “yeah, used to drive me crazy at first, but he was a good soldier; an even better friend.”

“And then you opened your shop.” She tilted her head, her fingers catching the tips of Bucky’s soft hair by his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, reminiscing at how things have turned out.

“And you started making beautiful furniture that you needed to deliver to the orphanage, where you saw me.” She grinned fondly, a fingertip tracing the orc’s nose.

“Yes.” Bucky sighed, his love pouring out of his dewy eyes as he enjoyed the light touches.

“And now I’m here with you, in our home,” she brought both palms to Bucky’s cheeks, “and I will never leave you, Bucky,” she told him seriously before getting on her tiptoes to hug him again, “I’m your family and you’re mine.” She whispered into his neck.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered into her shoulder, his arm squeezing her to him as if he wanted to meld himself to her.

“Copycat,” she joked, instantly feeling her orcs chest vibrate with a chuckle, “I love you too, Bucky.”

With her in his arms, hers wrapped around him as tight as she could, Bucky could then understand the meaning of safety, of love and family.

And she finally came to realize that she and Bucky weren’t all that different after all. They had both been abandoned by the ones who were supposed to have their backs before and more than anyone. But they have got each other now. She wasn’t going to let Bucky go and she trusted him not to let her go either.

As she leaned in to give Bucky his goodnight kiss that night, a different thought occupied her mind.

Sitting up against the pillows, she crossed her legs, her heart pounding with anticipation as Bucky looked at her with a quizzical tilt of his head.

She slowly got closer to his face, locking eyes with him to gain more courage, but it only made her more nervous.

She took a deep breath and when she pressed her lips, she pressed them to her orc’s mouth instead of his cheek, ever so tentatively getting a much needed taste of his full lips. They were so soft, so perfect.

She had no idea if she was doing this right, but she didn’t care.

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if he was dreaming.

She pulled away after a short second, scared that she might have crossed a line, “I’m sorry. Do orcs not do that—”

Before she could apologize or question her actions further, Bucky silenced her with a kiss of his own, swiftly bringing her down to lay on her back as he hovered over her, his kisses eager and desperate as he tried his best to watch his tusks.

“I don’t care what orcs do. We’re doing it,” he mumbled against her sweet lips.

Bucky allowed her one loud laugh before devouring her lips again, stealing her heart and breath with another tender, yet deep kiss.

In that very moment, time seemed to stand still for Bucky. All he could feel was the warmth of her cheek against his palm, all he could taste was the sweetness of her lips mingled with the faint flavor of berries, and he never wanted it to end.

As she allowed his tongue to gently explore her mouth, a promise of eternity passed between them in a moan, sealing their bond with a promise of a lifetime of love and devotion.

She has never had a real friendship. Rarely had anything to say. She would rather stay silent if she thought she didn’t have anything to contribute to the conversation. She was always afraid that others might find her boring, and was even more afraid that that may be her truth. So she always hid. She hid from others, from herself and her feelings. She hid from problems and fights. She hid from anything that could get her hurt.

But with Bucky it was different.

She didn’t have to hide anymore, didn’t have to be scared because in Bucky she had everything. She had a true friend, a loyal lover and a great husband.

And as she let herself drown in the feeling of his lips, she couldn’t be more grateful for the gods above for drawing her fate exactly how it was.

It felt so good to belong to Bucky and she could all but want more.

She let her instincts run wild, her body hot with need as she hesitantly slipped her hands under Bucky’s sweater, eager to feel his scarred skin under her fingers.

Bucky pulled away from her lips to look her in the eyes, his breath stuttering at her tender touch, “what are you doing, sweet thing?”

“I’m sorry. Was that too far?” She hurriedly tried to pull her hands out of his clothes, but Bucky was faster as he sat back and held his hands on top of hers, keeping them inside his sweater, right on his ribs.

“I’m your husband,” Bucky reminded with a sweet smile.

“I know— I just— I’ve never—” She struggled with her words as heat rose to her face, “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable… but I think I wanna do this.” She confessed shyly, her indexes caressing up and down his abdomen.

“This this?” Bucky tilted his head suggestively, already feeling his cock jump at the thought alone.

“This this.” She smiled, biting her lip shyly as she gave a nod.

“Little human, you better not be playing right now.” Bucky warned, his eyes growing the slightest bit darker.

“I’m not—”

“Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop myself, sweet thing.”

“Then don’t.”

Her newfound courage took over as she brought Bucky back to her with her hands tangled in his pullover.

Bucky kissed her with fervor, savoring the angelic sounds she was making as his tongue tasted hers.

He carefully ran a large hand up her hip, exploring as his lips trailed down her cheek and to her neck.

He could feel her pulse again and was about to stop, déjà vu from their wedding night attacking him, but then she said his name in the softest, sexiest and neediest tone as she squirmed underneath him, his covered cock fitting just right between her legs.

Bucky could all but put his lips back on her, his tusks grazing the sensitive skin as he nibbled on it.

“Can I see you?” He breathed, his eyes on hers as his fingers found way under the skirt of her dress.

She nodded, her face and neck flushed as she sat up and gave the orc her back.

Bucky wasted no time working the zipper down, revealing the back of her bralette to his hungry eyes.

She twisted herself back, seeking Bucky’s blue orbs for reassurance as she pushed her dress down her shoulders. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw Bucky literally lick his lips at the sight of her.

It felt like it was the first time Bucky was seeing her naked to both of them.

He saw her hesitate with pushing the dress down further and so with a smile, Bucky pulled his own pullover up and off his head, “I got you.” He promised.

She bit her lower lip, pushing the dress down her thighs.

Bucky pulled the piece of clothing all the way down, throwing it behind his back with his discarded sweater. He kept his calloused palms on her shins, caressing the smooth skin while he watched her hands go behind her back to unhook her bralette.

She let it fall from her body, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths as she watched Bucky’s gaze switch from admiration to sheer desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, gently bringing her on her back, taking the bralette all the way down her arms as he pressed his mouth to hers again.

Bucky’s lips traced down the hot skin of her throat in open-mouthed kisses, moving to her collarbones, “can I touch you, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” She nodded and goosebumps instantly rose on her skin as Bucky’s palms cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her hardening nipples.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her back involuntarily curving as she pushed herself further into her orc’s touch.

“Oh, you sensitive on here, little human?” Bucky asked, biting back his smirk as his calloused flesh thumb rubbed over her nipple again, “’s my touch making your little nipples hard?”

“Bucky,” she whined at the dirty talk, her hands coming up to cover her hot face in embarrassment.

“Hey.” Bucky gently took her hands away from her face, “don’t hide from me, sweet thing. I love that your body is reacting to me.”

Before she could whine again, her husband was bringing her right hand down and between his legs, pressing her open palm to his hard cock, “this is my body reacting to you, my love.”

She gasped, the feeling foreign to her as she felt how big and hard Bucky was.

“This is what you do to me, little human.” Bucky wrapped her smaller hand around his clothed cock, giving himself a squeeze, making wetness pool in her panties at the sound that left him afterwards.

Knowing that she wasn’t the only one whose body was on fire, made her the tiniest bit more confident and she found herself giving Bucky’s cock another squeeze, making his head drop to her shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, you tryna kill me, sweet thing?” Bucky breathed a chuckle on her neck.

“Did— did I hurt you?” She asked insecurely, wanting to remove her hand and bury herself under the bed.

“Gods, you’re an angel.” Bucky shook his head and she didn’t understand until he said, “you have no idea how much your touch drives me mad, do you?”

She shook her head innocently and Bucky only smiled, moving his mouth to her chest, his tusks softly grazing everywhere his lips went.

“It’s something like this.”

“Ohhhh, Bucky!” She arched her back again as her orc wrapped one of her nipples in his lips, softly suckling at the tender nub, making her hand give a tighter pump to his cock.

She really was sensitive there.

Bucky groaned, moving to her other nipple, the vibration driving her crazy, making her squirm harder as her hand massaged around his cock, sliding up his back to unconsciously wrap in his long hair as she pushed her breast into his mouth.

She could feel herself clenching like crazy down there, her whole body aflame with lust from all the new sensations Bucky was introducing her to.

The way the tip of his tongue flicked against her nipples made her crave more.

Bucky’s kisses trailed down her ribs to her abdomen, worshipping every inch until they settled on top of her pubic bone, dark blue eyes looking up at her for permission to go further.

She nodded, aching for her orc’s touch to provide any kind of relief.

A little nervous about not finding her wet once again, Bucky moved closer to her center.

Bucky let his lips kiss her on top of her underwear first, inhaling the saturated fabric as he pressed a long kiss to her clothed core. He swallowed hard, her scent filling his nostrils and making him dizzy with desire.

She smelled so good.

“Bucky, please,” she pleaded before she could stop herself, desperate for him to do anything to help the throbbing between her legs.

“I got you, sweet thing,” Bucky told her again, quickly pushing the tiny underwear down her legs and getting himself comfortable between her legs.

He took a second to look at her, all naked and all his, writhing from and for his touch and his touch alone.

“Wh— what are you gonna do?” She asked uncertainly, not really getting why Bucky was bringing himself lower between her open thighs, eye to eye with her pussy, the position making her cheeks burn up.

“I’m gonna get a taste, little human. Would you let me? Can I get a taste of you, sweet thing?” Bucky asked as he pressed loving kisses to the delicate flesh of her inner thigh.

“You’re… gonna put your mouth there?” She whispered her question shyly, the thought making her want to close her legs and hide.

Bucky just smiled lovingly at her innocence; his untouched, pure little human, “if you let me.”

“Is it gonna feel good?” She asked curiously.

Bucky nodded, relieved she wasn’t scared of his tusks coming close to where she was the most sensitive, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Y—yes. Okay.” She nodded, swallowing her nervousness as she laid her head back.

Bucky knew what he was doing and she trusted him to take care of her.

Her permission was all Bucky needed to put his mouth on her, pressing a longing kiss to her lower lips, glad to find her soaking wet, making her gasp above him. The feeling of his blunt tusks framing her pussy set her heart racing.

He then locked eyes with her as he let his tongue out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up from her dripping hole to her pulsing clit before wrapping his full lips around it and she couldn’t help the tiny squeal that escaped her as her head fell back on the pillow, her hips pushing down against him

Bucky smirked on her heat before moaning himself. She tasted so good, better than anything he has ever put his mouth on.

He had fucked humans before and he knew exactly what to do, but she was different. Every breath she released, every moan, was making Bucky wild with desire. He has never cared about making someone feel good as he did in that moment with her thighs around his head.

Her delicate hands flew to her orc’s hair and she tugged hard, losing herself in the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on her pussy as she arched her back and pushed herself closer to his lips. Her orc’s touch was reducing her to a moaning, babbling mess in mere seconds.

Bucky decided to test the waters a little, slipping his tongue inside her hole a few times, tasting her sweetness from the source before bringing his flesh finger between her legs. He gently prodded the tip of his thick finger at her entrance, feeling her tense above him with a gasp.

“It’s okay, sweet thing, I got you. Just relax for me.” He reassured and she tried her best to relax her muscles, allowing Bucky to ease the tip of his finger insider of her.

Fuck, she was so tight; the tightest he has ever felt and it made him rut into the mattress when he thought about how tight she was going to feel around his cock.

Her mouth hung open as Bucky worked the thick digit into her pussy knuckle by knuckle, his lips sucking on her clit.

“I gotta open you up for my cock, little human.” Bucky couldn’t help but tease her, smirking when she whined, getting wetter on his finger.

Bucky started moving his finger in and out of her, his movements slow and deep as he tried to explore as much of her as his finger would go.

Her body was feverish with arousal and her mind was drunk on the feeling of being filled for the first time in her life as sighs and whimpers slipped from her lips without her permission.

It was just one finger pushing in and out of her cunt and she was feeling full already, clenching hard with her juices drenching her thighs and the sheets. She clenched harder around Bucky’s thick finger at the thought of how big his cock would feel and how full it would make her feel, the way he was suckling on her clit making a knot tighten in her lower stomach.

She has never felt anything like this before and was starting to panic at the sensation spreading from her pussy to the rest of her.

“Bucky, I— I feel weird,” she whined, yet ground harder on her orc’s thick finger.

“Are you in pain, little human?” Bucky asked worriedly, taking his touch and mouth away from her at once.

“No, no, no, why would you stop?” She whined louder, her glossy eyes opening and pleading him to give her her pleasure back.

“Oh.” Bucky smirked when he looked from her eyes to her pussy and saw her clamp around nothing, “oh, sweet thing, you were gonna cum?” He asked lowly, his index rubbing up and down her sopping hole without going in.

“I— I don’t know.” She writhed, her hips pushing down as she tried to take Bucky’s finger back inside her, “Bucky, please.” She begged despite not really knowing what she was begging for.

But Bucky knew. He knew and he was going to give it to her.

“I got you,” Bucky said as he pushed his finger back into her pussy with ease, “you think you can take another one, little human?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her answer breathy and desperate as she automatically opened her thighs wider.

“Gods, you’re perfect. So good for me, sweet thing.” Bucky took his index out before coupling it with his middle and pushing both fingers into her, stretching her once more.

She whimpered at the careful intrusion, her hand bringing Bucky’s face to her pulsing clit, making him smirk proudly at how needy she was being for him.

If she thought she felt full before, this made her realize she was wrong.

Bucky’s fingers were so thick, so skilled as they massaged and curled against her upper walls, making her squeal when they nudged a specific spot deep inside her.

“Oh, there you go,” Bucky groaned into her clit, knowing exactly what he was doing to her as he kept curling his fingers inside of her, harshly stimulating the spot that was making her thrash.

He could feel her walls contracting harder around his fingers and he wanted to watch as he brought her to her first orgasm ever.

Keeping his eyes on her blissed out face, Bucky replaced his mouth with the heel of his left hand, circling her clit tightly with his cooler palm.

She wailed at the new stimulation, the pressure from Bucky’s hand strong enough to rub both her clit and her lower abdomen.

Her loud whimpers were making Bucky’s cock leak in his pants as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“I got you, sweet thing. Give it to me, my love. Shake on your orc’s fingers.”

Bucky’s words did it for her.

She felt the knot in her tummy tighten once more and before she could tell him about it this time, her toes were curling and her body was trembling as her pussy clenched and pulsated around the orc’s beefy digits.

Bucky watched with an open mouth, his lips shimmering with the remnants of her arousal as he almost finished in his pants like a teenager at the mere sight of her losing it on his fingers, “there you go, my love. Good job, sweet thing.”

He slowed down the curling of his fingers but kept his palm circling her clit, wanting to keep her convulsing for as long as he could before she gently tried pushing his touch off.

“Sensitive,” she panted and Bucky decided to have mercy on her.

She laid down on the bed, her tired body limp despite the ongoing throbbing of her pussy, trying to catch her breath.

A smile automatically formed on her lips as she felt Bucky climb up the bed again, mapping his way up her body in wet kisses.

“Hi,” she whispered, opening her eyes when she felt him kissing the corner of her lips.

“Hi.” Bucky smiled, more than satisfied with himself at the state he had managed to bring her to as he kissed her lips, making her taste herself on his tongue, “did you like that, sweet thing?”

She nodded coyly, “can I… make you feel like that too? With my mouth?” Her face was flushed, heat spreading on her skin as if she hadn’t just come on Bucky’s fingers.

The orc could barely hold his orgasm back at the innocence in her voice as she asked if she could suck his cock in the purest way possible. He wasn’t about to cum untouched during his first time with his human. Get it together dammit.

“Later, sweet thing. Right now, I need to be inside your pussy or I think I might die.”

“Bucky,” she whined shyly, covering her face with her hands.

He laughed at her bashfulness before removing the rest of his clothes, “look at me, little human.” Bucky urged gently, his touch soft as his thumb stroked her lower belly.

She removed her hands, eyes instantly landing on his huge cock as it stood proudly, leaking pearls of pre-cum down his length.

“Are you ready, little human?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure she wanted this.

She remained wordless for a second, taking in Bucky’s cock with an open mouth, wondering if it was going to fit.

“You can say no, sweet thing. We don’t have to do it tonigh—”

“Yes,” she interrupted with a nod, “make me yours, Bucky.”

Bucky bit his lip, stifling a groan, trying to stop himself from sliding home and pounding her into the mattress.

“I thought you were already mine, little human.” He growled lowly, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down her soaking cunt, tapping her clit teasingly just to see her shiver.

“I am. But I wanna be yours like this too.” She mumbled, her eyes mesmerized as she watched Bucky lube his cock up in her wetness, “wanna be yours in every way possible.”

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky growled before carefully popping the tip of his fat cock inside her aching pussy.

Her breaths were coming out in short pants, cunt already clenching around him and he almost doubled over, his knees weak as pleasure engulfed his senses, “fuck, sweet thing, you’re so tight. Pussy’s tryna kill me.” He moaned, unintentionally making her clench down harder.

She looked like she had already been fucked stupid when Bucky proceeded to push half of his fat cock inside her, letting out tiny mewls and whines as she felt every ridge and vein on her orc’s cock, holding onto his arms for dear life.

“Oh, you feel so good, my love. So wet for me,” Bucky sighed as he kept fucking her with half of his cock, wanting her to get used to the stretch before he could give her all of him, “so tight”.

“Please, Bucky,” she moaned, her heart and pussy simultaneously fluttering at Bucky calling her his love yet again, “I can take it.” She promised, opening her thighs as far as they would go for him.

Bucky could all but snarl hungrily as he leaned forward, burying his face in her soft neck before gradually pushing the rest of his cock inside her tight throbbing cunt inch by inch until he had bottomed out.

He took a second to calm himself down, not wanting to burst so fast. Then he was pulling out just enough for his bulbous tip alone to remain inside of her before sliding back into her cunt, gasping into her neck at the sensation of being totally wrapped up in her snug warmth.

She couldn’t help but cry out at the pleasure as he orc fucked her deeply, reaching places inside of her she never knew existed.

She thought it would take longer for her body to get used to Bucky’s girth, but it was like she was made for him, her pussy effortlessly accepting him every time he pressed back home.

The tip of Bucky’s cock easily found her special spot, ramming into it over and over every time he drove himself back into her heat.

“Oh, Bucky!” She squealed, her back already bowing once more as her vision got blurrier and Bucky knew he wasn’t going to last much longer when her nails dug into his skin again.

His breath was labored when he raised his head, wanting a taste of her lips as his thrusts became faster, more desperate. He swallowed her loud moans, leaving the only sound in the empty cottage to be the sound of skin slapping against skin as he fucked her faster.

“Bucky, it’s gonna happen again,” she whined and Bucky brought his hand down to her clit at once, wanting to see and feel her crumble on his cock.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my fat cock, little human?”

She nodded frantically, her legs wrapping around Bucky’s waist.

“Cum for me, sweet thing. Let me feel your tight little pussy cum on my cock.”

Bucky’s dirty whispers in her ear, his deep thrusts and his frantic rubbing on her sensitive clit were making her lose control; making her lightheaded with desire as she let herself go again, full body tensing before shaking in her orc’s arms.

Bucky could no longer hold back, his guttural growl making her clench hard. He gave a few more thrusts before pushing his cock as deep as it would go inside her quivering pussy, keeping his assault on her clit going to keep her clenching around him. He felt his cock twitch as he emptied his balls inside her. His cock wouldn’t stop throbbing as he filled his little human up with his hot cum.

Before any of them could comprehend it, she was cumming again just at the feeling of Bucky cumming inside of her, making him groan as her walls squeezed his cock, milking him for all that he was worth.

He let himself collapse on top of her for just a minute before feeling the need to pull out because she wouldn’t stop pulsating and shuddering around his sensitive cock.

Bucky didn’t think he had ever cum so hard in his entire life.

A smile spread on his lips as he flipped on his side, watching her chest rise and fall with her slowing breaths.

He trailed a finger up her still slightly trembling thigh, making her open her tired eyes to look at him.

She gave him a sweet smile, biting her lip as she squirmed, timidly closing her thighs and Bucky could see the exact moment she realized that his cum was leaking out of her abused hole, smirking at how bashful she got straightaway.

“Are you okay, little human?” Bucky asked, his finger tracing up her abdomen, around the curve of her breast and up under her chin, keeping her gaze on his.

She nodded, her expression cock-drunk despite the shyness, “when— when can we do that again?”

Her question pulled an astonished laugh out of Bucky as he wrapped a hair strand around his finger, “any time you want, my love.” He brought her forehead to his lips, kissing her adoringly.

Gods, he was so in love that his heart felt like it would burst.

She smiled bigger, satisfied with the answer as she moved closer, settling on her orc’s broad chest and snuggling close to his warmth, “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, sweet thing.” Bucky gave her lips a deep kiss.

“So orcs do do that.” She mumbled with a sleepy smile against his lips, making him laugh into her mouth.

She giggled a little before pushing her nose further into Bucky’s neck, gracefully falling asleep to his scent.

As she laid in his arms, vulnerable and exposed, Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he pulled the heavy blanket up her naked form, holding her closer to him.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her hairline, vowing to always be there for her. She was his, and he was hers, destined together through a love that defied all odds.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, Bucky knew that he had found his home, his safe haven, in the embrace of this one girl who had so easily stolen his heart.

Tag list: @harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe

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may-manage · 1 day

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https://candice-945.ludgu.top/e/4nJOak8

#gal gadot #the goldfinch #fragmentos #female poets #streaming #bucky barnes fanfiction #saiki kusuo #sabine jemeljanova #drew barrymore #alex ovechkin #ocd #steve rogers smut

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hard-movement · 3 days

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#writing prompt #gdragon #relatable memes #amicizia #burlesque #art inspiration #that 70's show #the goldfinch #female poets #bucky barnes fanfiction #saiki kusuo #sabine jemeljanova

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veebarnes13 · 3 days

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Melt winter away

Context: Bucky's heart is crippled by ice, it has been for so long that he doubts it will ever melt; until she brings heat into his frozen soul.

TW: slight sexual scene (detailed kissing)

Era: TFATWS

(English isn't my native language, feel free to correct me!)

Enjoy! :)

☆☆★☆☆

From the moment he had seen her, Bucky knew she was the one. On a random Wednesday, he saw her on the tip of her toes, reaching out for something on the top shelf. He knew she was the one for him. When he handed her what she was reaching for and locked eyes with her, he knew there was not anyone else than her.

It was her.

Every Wednesday night since then, they went on a date. It was their little ritual. He surprised himself circling every Wednesday on his calendar, his heart pounding at the pace of his wild thoughts.

Bucky didn't expect much of these dates at first. He thought to himself she would end up running from him because of his past, his scars, his frozen heart. Instead, she did the exact opposite.

Every Wednesday night, Bucky found his way back to her, and she welcomed him every time.

Her laugh, her smile, the spark in her eyes, her hair, her perfect face, every inch of her, changed something inside of him. He felt something change. Every second spent in her company made this feeling grow stronger until he was able to put words on it. Every little thing about her was warming up his heart. Every little thing about her made the thick ice he had been wearing for so long melt.

He was stuck between the enclosure of frost, trapped inside a prison of which he didn't have the key, and she had it. When was the last time he felt heat? Even the smallest amount of heat? He truly didn't know. All he recalled was the cold, the winter, slowly setting in, killing everything under its lethal breath. His fingers were numb from scratching in the walls surrounding him, his lungs pained him at each inspiration. No more fire, not even a spark.

But there she was, bringing with only a smile enough heat to warm up his blue fingers.

Bucky couldn't believe it. How could he? He was used to battle against his demons. Some of the scars has worn off over time, but there always were knew ones to carve his sufferance on his soul. He knew his demons by heart, still, he had no idea how to tame them. He had given up this hope - until she brought it back. Her presence kept Bucky's demons on a leash. He could breath without feeling the cold creeping in his lungs.

Rubbing shoulders with demons made him forget what angels looked like, but she reminded him.

Because she was an angel.

His angel.

Each Wednesday, Bucky battled his way back to her, back to her wide smile and her loud, beautiful laugh. He was convinced she was an angel. He could easily picture her with the softest wings, the brightest halo, her figure appearing from the lightest cloud. He didn't understand why she had left Heaven for his Hell, but she had walked in the winter as you would walk in the summer. She didn't flinch, she didn't look back. She got inside his Hell and battled for him. And each Wednesday, Bucky contemplated her angelic face, wondering how he could've been this lucky. He couldn't get tired of looking at her. It was like staring at the sun without it burning your eyes. He tried his best not to blink when he looked at her, scared she would fade away, and he'd end up waking up from a dream. It was too good to be true. She was too good to be true. But still, she came back every Wednesday.

And this very Wednesday, it had been eight weeks since they met. Eight dates. Two months.

To celebrate it, Bucky had bought the biggest flower bouquet he had found. He always gave her flowers, but never that much. He was a bit disappointed by his pick - roses -, but he knew it would mean a lot to his angel. He could've picked up tired flowers from the road and she would've smiled brightly anyway. But she was worth more than that. She was worth all the flowers on the goddamn planet.

Tonight, they were going stargazing. She had a convertible car, so she was the one picking him up, for the first time. He didn't mind. The thought of watching her drive made him smile.

As he was waiting for her to pick him up, he plucked out every single thorn from the roses with his left hand. The simple thought of her getting hurt by his fault was making his heart clench under the layers of ice. He knew he was going to harm her one day, but he wanted to push it farther, until he didn't have the strenght to anymore.

He was meant to harm things.

When she pulled into the drive, he rushed to the passenger seat before she could make a move to open the door for him. He looked at her beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking figure and face, and his stomach did the thing. It always did it around her.

"Good ev-" she started, but the sight of the flowers cut her sentence.

She widened her eyes.

"Bucky, you didn't!" she exclamed.

"I did." he replied, smiling.

She giggled as he handed her the bouquet. She buried her nose into their scent and for a split second, Bucky got terrified by the idea that he might have forgotten a thorn. But she looked back up at him without a scratch and he sighed, relieved.

"It's trice the size as those you usually buy me." she quipped.

"Maybe more twice..." he replied, smiling.

She nudged him gently, making him chuckle.

"It's... I don't have the words." she whispered.

He smiled again. God, all he did around her was act like an enamoured teenager.

"Will they last the night? Or maybe I'd better make a stop at mine to put them in a vase." she said.

"They should last. If they don't, I'll buy others." he shrugged.

"No way! I won't let you do that!" she laughed.

So she drove to hers, put the flowers in water, and got back behind the wheel. He watched her drive, his breath gone at the sight of her. When she smiled at him at a red light, he felt a jolt strike his heart, and a spark lit up in the winter ruling his soul. He couldn't believe it. She was too perfect to be true.

They finally reached their destination, the top of a hill where the light pollution from the city was the lowest in town. He rushed to her door to help her out, as the perfect gentleman he was, and grabbed her hand.

He lead her to a spot where he spread out a blanket over the damp grass and gestured her to take place. She sat down and entwined their fingers to make him join her, pulling him close. He felt the thaw inside him when she rested her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, still holding her hand, and he held her close, his heart quickening its beats.

She pointed constellations, guessed shapes between the stars, and he listened to her yap about everything that crossed her mind. She knew he wasn't good to fill the void that silence created between them, so she made sure she always had something to say, and he felt very grateful for that.

At one point, they laid down on their back to get a better view. She held his hand tightly, not letting go at all, and he brushed her knuckles with his thumb. They stopped talking to listen to the night. The celestial vault sprawled before their eyes, not a single cloud in sight.

He couldn't help himself. His eyes always went back to her. He contemplated her face turned towards the stars, the curve of her neck, the smile tickling her lips. She was ethereal. He was convinced even the angels still in Heaven could not compare at all with her. She was above beauty, above ethereal, even. Looking at her this way woke up a spark between his ribs. Looking back at the sky would tear him apart, so he kept admiring every perfect inch of her.

He was "hergazing" more than stargazing.

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned her head to look at him. He felt his beartbeat go wild. His thoughts scattered away as she started into his eyes, leaving only her on his mind.

"I thought we were stargazing." she sneered.

"You're brighter than the stars, doll." he stuttered.

She blushed and giggled.

"What an awful cheesy sentence. I love it." she laughed.

He cupped her cheek gently. He felt the heat of her face against his palm, warming up the cold inside of him. She smiled and he kept his hand there, letting the hotness of her blush sink in his fingers, travel up his arm and land on the ice over his heart. He could feel some water forming over the layers, dripping down his ribs, turning into mist as they reached his feet. She was warming him up, chasing the winter, and he absolutely loved it.

From that angle, as the moon was still low and the hill slightly higher than it, it hovered over the back of her head. It conferred her a halo, the halo she deserves, as if the moon was picturing the angel Bucky always believed she was. His stomach did the thing again. She looked like she had fallen from the cloudy word above.

His palm got sweaty against her cheek and he wanted to wipe it on his jeans, but she grabbed his wrist and kept his hand on her face. His breath catched in his throat.

In this instant, when she looked back at him this way, with a flame burning in her eyes, he felt the warmth get the best of him. The ice became water, the water mist, the mist steam. The smile on her beautiful lips made the steam even hotter and it became a spark. It sizzled in the cold world that was his ribcage and came to life. His mouth turned dry, the blood in his veins boiled up.

His angel parted her lips, a silent invitation, and Bucky couldn't hold himself back.

He brought her face to his and brushed her lips with his. The spark became a flame, burning its way in every inch of the frozen land that was his heart. She slid her hands through his hair and kissed him harder, almost in a desperate way. The flame exploded into a strong, powerful fire, and he lost control.

He wrapped his arms around his angel's waist and rolled on his back to lay her on his chest. She never stopped the kiss, didn't even pull back. They tangled their legs as a blaze was melting the ice in Bucky. He panted against her lips when all the layers turned into water, and all the water evaporated into a hot, burning steam. Everything catched on fire and he wasn't crippled by his ice prison anymore. The kiss went on, and on, and on, until they couln't breathe anymore.

They broke their embrace to catch their breath. He rested his forehead against hers, finally aware of how hot he had gotten inside. How hot she made him. The flames had licked away every last drop of water, leaving nothing but heat. Her heat.

His trembling hands caressed their way up her back until he cupped her face and brushed another kiss on her perfect lips. She was flushed, barely breathing, as shaking as him, and she was even more perfect than she usually was. Was it even possible?

He gently rolled on his side to lay her down on the blanket again. She snuggled into his chest, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, and they stargazed again. They shared a tender kiss every now and then, their bodies so close they almost look like one. Bucky felt his heart, finally free, hammer against his ribs at each kiss. He had reached his angel's Heaven.

When the sun roze up from its nap a few hours later, they were waking up from a night on the ground.

Bucky looked at the sun as it caressed the hill with its rays and reached for the moon, skimming lovingly her craters. He contemplated the two lovers of the sky being finally reunited as he and his angel had just found eachother's lover of the earth.

He almost feared God would take away from him His angel, claiming her back, but she kissed his temple and he cuddled her closer to him, his heart finally beating freely next to hers. He had his angel, all to himself, and she wasn't going back to Heaven, as she had created her own paradise between Bucky and her.

And among all the angels, she was his.

The only one able to melt winter away.

☆☆★☆☆

Thank you so much for reading this! I hope with all my heart that you enjoyed it.

If you like my writing, you can take a look at my Wattpad account, "WinterBarnes13", but my works there are mostly in French. I only have one Fanfic in English, it's short and was written two years ago.

Lots of love!

- Vee

#bucky #james barnes #fanfic #bucky barnes #marvel #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #oneshot #fluff #romance #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #cute fluff

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spidey-webz · 9 hours

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Hi ☺️

Can you write a fanfic where reader/Bucky (you can choose) is sick and the other takes care of them .

Thank you

In good times and bad | B. Barnes

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you're sick.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Content warnings: reader being sick with the flu, bucky being the bestest boyfriend, reader has a fever, itchy throat and feels quite wobbly

Words: 1.4k

A/N: thank you for requesting this! i know bucky loves to take care of you any day!

Masterlist | Ask

The scratchy feeling in your throat just didn’t want to go away. You were on your third cup of tea for the day and you started to feel increasingly more tired. Your head was starting to hurt and all you wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep.

However, you still had a huge pile of work lined up on your desk and your boss would probably complain about you once again if you didn’t finish everything by the end of the week. The light of your laptop screen was hurting your eyes and you instinctively rubbed over your temple with two fingers.

Just a little more and you could go into bed, finally able to get some rest-

“Are you alright, doll?”

Bucky’s deep voice echoed over to you and when you looked up from your desk, you could see your boyfriend leaning in the doorframe to your office. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes radiated concern.

“Just tired,” you insisted, gaze returning to the work at hand. The sound of Bucky’s footsteps filled the room soon after as he crouched down next to your chair and placed a big hand on your thigh.

“I can tell you’re not feeling well. Don’t you want to take a little break? I can make you-“ He stopped when he noticed the cup on your desk. “I can run you a hot bath or make you some warm soup,” he suggested instead, seeing that you were already well-supplied with tea.

His free hand moved up to your forehead and he shook his head right after. “You’re having a fever, sweetheart.”

There was never a point in lying to Bucky when it came to your well-being. He would always find out sooner or later and… he would always look after you.

“You know how my boss is though if I don’t finish this…” you insisted, pointing to the documents on your desk and your laptop. Bucky wasn’t up for discussion though and pushed himself back to his feet, his hand closing the laptop slowly but surely.

“I get it. But you need to take a break and get healthy first. Let me bring you to bed, alright?” His voice wasn’t demanding, but rather soft. You grabbed his hand when he held it out for you, his calloused fingers closing around yours. Your legs felt even more wobbly when Bucky helped you out of the chair a second later. His eyebrows furrowed with concern and he let his hand rest on the small of your back as he helped you back to your shared bedroom. Even if you weren’t sick enough to lose consciousness, he still didn’t want to take any risks. And he certainly didn’t want you hurting yourself by bumping into the doorframe or the corner of the desk.

“Thank you,” you mumbled when you reached your bed eventually. Bucky shook his head dismissively. “This is nothing you have to thank me for.”

While you were getting settled on the bed, Bucky disappeared for a short moment, coming back with an extra blanket from the living room. “We have to keep you warm,” he insisted, but quickly shook his head when he realised that you were still wearing your jeans. “Let’s get you out of those clothes first, don’t you think?” He suggested and you gave him a small nod.

You opened your jeans first and Bucky helped you pull them down your legs, handing you sweatpants a second later. His sweatpants. One of his sweaters followed soon after and you were happy to get comfortable in it. It was bigger than your own, but also warmer and you could still faintly smell Bucky’s scent all over it. Your nose was getting increasingly more stuffed though, so you doubted you would be able to enjoy it for long.

Your boyfriend helped you get comfortable under the blanket, making sure to tuck you in properly. Bucky even planted a small kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to eat something, doll? My mum always made chicken soup when I was sick.” It filled your chest with warmth to think about a young Bucky, untouched by the horrors of his adult life, that just enjoyed his mother’s soup when he was sick. The offer was too good to turn down. “I would love that,” you smiled softly and pulled the blanket a little higher.

A few minutes later, you already drifted off into a light sleep. Bucky woke you up again when he was done cooking, gently brushing your hair back with his metal hand. The vibranium felt cool against your warm forehead and you were close to asking your boyfriend if he could just keep his hand there. “You need to eat something,” he insisted with a soft voice, helping you sit up against the headboard.

He handed you the bowl of soup and a spoon, as well as an extra tea towel if you needed it. Bucky sat down next to you on his side of the bed, rummaging through the little basket in which you kept all kinds of medicine. “I’m trying to figure out what to give you first…” he mumbled, showing you the pain killers and some medicine against the fever.

It was simply adorable how much he was caring for you. He could have just brought you to bed and left it at that, but you knew your boyfriend wanted to make sure you’d be back on your feet as quickly as possible. “Just let me take the pain killers first,” you smiled, taking the first sip of the soup. It tasted really good. Bucky was more talented in the kitchen than you could have ever imagined and homemade dishes like this seemed to warm your body as well as your heart.

Bucky handed you a glass of water and let you take one of the pills, before you went back to eating. “How about I run you a bath later? Unless you want to sleep some more. I wouldn’t have woken you up if the soup-”

You interrupted Bucky with a small laugh. “Thank you, Buck. I’ll happily take the bath and it’s good you woke me up. I love this soup,” you assured him. Your boyfriend chuckled softly, leaning forward to press another kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad. We could watch a movie before you take a bath? Maybe instead of another cup of tea, I can also make a cup of hot chocolate.”

How did you deserve a boyfriend like this? “Whatever you want more, Buck.” You didn’t this to be all about you even if you were the sick one at the moment. “Mhm, then let’s go with some hot chocolate and a good movie. I heard there is a new rom-com out on Netflix.”

You had introduced Bucky to rom-coms throughout your relationship and they had grown on him quite quickly. By now, they were your favourite kind of movies to watch together when it was just the two of you. “I don’t want you to get sick too if you keep kissing me,” you pointed out, moving the spoon around in the bowl of soup. It wouldn’t be nice if the both of you would get sick at the same time.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind even a little though as he slipped under the blanket with you and wrapped his flesh arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. He always wanted to keep you safe and sound. “Don’t you worry about that, doll. I will be fine. Don’t get sick too often, you know?”

You and Bucky were trying to keep life as normal as possible for the both of you. You sometimes forgot about his super soldier powers and how they changed his immune system as well. “But don’t you complain if you’re bedridden next week,” you insisted, glancing up to your boyfriend.

He gave you another soft smile, pressing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose. “I know you’ll take good care of me if I get sick myself.”

“You’re right. But I can’t replicate this chicken soup,” you grinned, turning your head when Bucky turned on the TV and started to look for a movie to watch.

It was nice being pampered and cared for when you were sick. Especially if it meant more time spent cuddling with your boyfriend.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu imagine #bucky barnes headcanons #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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missvelvetsstuff · 2 days

Text

No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Warnings: swearing, angst, stupid Bucky, bad Sharon, good friend Sam

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

I try to keep my Readers description vague but as always, she's a she and above average height

Chapter 1

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scoonsalicious · 12 hours

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Unwanted: Chapter 26, Unsurprising - Pt. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: Nat gave you some very interesting, and disturbing news.

A/N: ::giggles like school girl::

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

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

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!

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“Buck,” you hissed, shaking his sleeping form. You hadn’t been on the phone with Nat for that long; there’s no way he should be sleeping this deeply already. “Wake the fuck up!”

He groaned and rolled over, looking at you through sleepy eyes. “Pocket?” he groaned, bringing up a hand to rub at his forehead. “I told you, I’m not just gonna fuck you if it doesn’t mean anything.”

You shoved him. “That’s not why I’m here, asshat!” you hissed. “Something’s happened!”

Bucky bolted upright and flipped on the bedside lamp. “What is it?” he asked, looking alarmed as he ran his eyes over your frame. “Are you alright? Are there complications? Do you need to go back to the hospital?” You were surprised that his immediate response was concern for your welfare, though you shouldn’t have been– Bucky had always been protective– until it came to protecting you from his actions, of course.

“No,” you said, reassuring him, “I’m fine. Something happened at the Tower. With Carthage.” You quickly recapped what Natasha had texted you, adding the sparse details she’d provided during your call.

“So, she quit?” he asked. “That’s great!”

“No, baby,” you said, and if either one of you noticed the endearment that slipped out, you didn’t acknowledge it. “Fuck… I’m just gonna say it because I don’t know how to put it delicately: Jade’s an undercover Hydra operative and her mission was to bring you back to them so they could reclaim you as their asset.”

You weren’t sure what reaction you had expected from Bucky– shock? Anger? Tears? Any one of them, or, hell, a combination of all three, would have been more than appropriate and expected.

What you had not been expecting, however, was fucking laughter. You looked at him blankly for a minute, wondering if you’d looked this crazy when you’d started laughing after Dr. Carson had informed you of your miscarriage.

“It’s not funny, Buck,” you said, annoyed.

“It’s fucking hilarious, doll!” Bucky gasped, tears coming to his eyes from how hard he was laughing now. “She’s a Hydra agent? She’s got TicTac followers, for Christ’s sake!”

You could feel your blood pressure rising in your veins. Oh, you were getting angry at him, now. “First of all, it’s fucking TikTok, and I don’t know why we have to keep having that conversation! And second,” you took a breath, knowing this was probably not the most appropriate time to start something, but not being able to let it go, “I cannot fucking believe that, after everything, all the bullshit you fed me tonight in the living room, you’re still taking her side, taking her word over mine, as if I would make an accusation like that without any fucking proof!”

Bucky’s demeanor sobered up in an instant, as if you’d physically knocked the laughter out of him. He reached for your hand, and you let him take it. “Oh, sweets, no– that’s not… that’s not why I’m laughin’. I believe you; trust me, I learned my lesson there. No, it’s fucking hilarious, because of course she’s a Hydra agent. It explains everything, actually.” He didn’t need to elaborate for you to catch his meaning– of course she would have only pursued him so aggressively because it was her mission objective to do so. He must have felt himself so foolish to think that she would have had real feelings for him. You thought for a second that the realization should make you angry– you hadn’t needed a secret agenda to love him, after all, but then, he probably thought you didn’t love him anymore, either; you’d certainly given no indication of it. Even now, he still viewed himself as so completely undeserving of affection, and that just made your heart heavy with sadness.

“I don’t think it was just her mission,” you said, not really sure why you were about to come to the defense of the woman who’d made your life a living hell, but also knowing that you couldn’t stand for him to think he was unloveable. “She had the perfect opportunity to incapacitate you and bring you back to them on the Russia trip.” Ugh, just saying those two words left a sick taste in your mouth. “You were alone, in their territory, and she… she had you in an extremely vulnerable position. It would have been so easy for her to incapacitate you there, deliver you to them. But she didn’t. Whatever her mission objective is, I’m pretty sure she’s got one of her own, and I think it’s just you.”

Bucky studied you quizzically. “Are you… trying to reassure me? Because trust me, Pocket, it’s no skin off my back if she never actually cared about me, though it does make me regret everything even more.”

“I just…” you struggled to find the right words. “I just don’t want you thinking the only reason someone would want you is because they were told to,” you said after a minute. “That they were pretending. I’ve seen the way she looked at you, and it drove me absolutely crazy, because I know that’s how I look at you, too. I’m just saying, in her own fucked up way, I think she does care for you, whatever that means to her.”

Bucky’s head tilted as he looked at you, eyes gone gooey. “Present tense,” he said softly.

“What?”

He held your cheek into his big hand, rubbing a thumb along the line of your cheek bone. “You said that’s how you look at me. Not looked. Present tense, not past.”

You snorted; you’d walked right into that. “Just because I stopped trusting you doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you,” you admitted.

“Pocket,” he said, leaning closer to you, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay? If you don’t want me to, just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“What happened to not wanting to be intimate with me if it’s not going to mean anything,” you exhaled. He was impossibly close now, but you hadn’t told him to stop. Not yet.

His breath teased your lips. “I think we both know now it’s anything but meaningless,” he said. His lips brushed across yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Tell me to stop,” he said again in a final warning, but you both knew you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was close the millimeters of distance remaining between you until his mouth was on yours, begging for you to let him in.

So you did. And it was like a sudden summer downpour after a drought. A ray of warm sunlight breaking through the chill of snow clouds. The first blossom unfurling from the ground to signal the true arrival of Spring. It was finally coming home, all encompassing and everything you’d ever needed, a promise of sweetness and new beginnings. And it was over all too soon.

Bucky broke the kiss, chuckling as you greedily chased after his lips with your own, a pitiful whine escaping them at the loss of contact. “Come back here,” you grumbled, reaching for him to bring him closer, but Bucky leaned away from you.

“Told you, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pulling down the covers next to him and beckoning for you to join him in the bed, “I’m not gonna have you if I can’t have all of you. Now get in bed.”

Son of a bitch. He wasn’t playing fair. “Not sure how that translates to me getting in bed with you, Barnes,” you said, definitely crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes and picked you up, gently depositing you in the space he’d made for you inside his covers, and you couldn’t help but let out a little squeak. “If you think I’m gonna let you sleep on your own when we have no idea where Carthage is, you’re crazier than I thought,” he said, pulling the sheet and blankets up around you. “Now go to sleep.”

If you hoped he was going to wrap you in his arms and hold you close while you drifted off, you were in for disappointment. Instead, he left a respectable distance between the two of you, then, checking behind the nightstand to make sure his gun was where he’d left it, turned off the bedside lamp. “G’night, sweets,” he called softly before settling on his side, facing away from you.

“Night, Buck,” you whispered into the dark, more confused than ever before.

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buckyalpine · 3 months

Text

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

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gutsby · 4 months

Text

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

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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

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ellemj · 4 months

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Bigger Than He Was

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.

Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.

You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.

“They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.” You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.

Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.

“What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.

“We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.

You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.

“Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.

Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.

“Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.

“No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.

“Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.

“Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.

---

Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.

Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.

You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.

I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.

The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed. It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.

“Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.

“He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.

“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.

“He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”

“Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.

“I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”

“So, you’re going?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.

“We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.

“What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”

“I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”

---

You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.

When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.

The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.

“Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”

“The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.

“Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.

The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.

When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.

You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.

“You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.

“What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.

“Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”

“Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.

“That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.

“You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.

“She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.

“So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.

“Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.

“And how do I do that?”

“For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”

---

Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.

He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.

“So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.

“Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.

“Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”

“A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.

Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.

“It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”

---

Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.

Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.

When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.

“The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”

“What?”

“You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.

“What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.

“I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”

“You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”

“Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.

Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.

“Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.

“If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.

“If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.

“If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans. “Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.

“Right here in this damn parking garage.”

Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.

The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.

“I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.

Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.

“You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

“Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.

“I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.

“No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”

He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.

He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.

There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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