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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him.

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters.

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras.

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table.

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said.

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly.

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours.

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment.

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way.

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped.

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face.

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back.

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you.

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched.

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you.

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter.

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips.

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you.

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.”

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you. “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.”

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder.

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel.

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer.

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him.

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort.

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy.

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.”

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers.

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering.

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure.

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted.

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted.

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements.

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release.

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him.

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest.

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again.

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word.

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roo sleepover #bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob boss au #mob boss! avengers #f!reader #aspen wrote something #female reader

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buckyalpine · 2 years

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Pocket Angel

Bucky x reader

Okay, SO CUTE LOVE THIS. I decided to do a civilian reader for a change, I wasn’t sure if you wanted avenger reader, I can def do an alternate one with that later on hehe

Warnings: FLUFFFFF

Word count: 2.8k

A lil drabble

A lil part 2

“Have y’all noticed how he’s less grumpy? He hasn’t threatened to kill me all day, and quite frankly I’m a little upset he hasn’t paid attention to me” Sam mused, whispering to Steve, both men eyeing Bucky suspiciously while he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, sans his signature grumpy pout.

Bucky tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he was giggling like a school boy. Just a few more hours and he’d be able to see you, hold you, kiss you; he had to keep his hand on his knee from bouncing in excitement.

He felt his heart leap, seeing a new message pop up on his phone. It was a picture of you wrapped up under a fuzzy blanket, wearing his Henley, the bear he got you tucked under your arm with the caption Missing my actual teddy bear :( His heart melted, looking at your pouty face, the sweet face that reminded him of home. He considered typing out a message, but decided against it, wanting to surprise you instead.

He hadn’t been away from you for too long; the mission had only taken a little over a week but you missed each other like crazy. Bucky thought about telling the others about you but part of him liked keeping you a secret from the rest of the world. It was like having a little angel in his pocket only he knew about, one that he could kiss and cuddle and keep all to himself.

The other reason the relationship had remained a secret was mostly because he was shy to even bring the topic up, plus Bucky never thought about dating, for a multitude of reasons. Aside from the danger and all that, he just didn’t consider himself dating material. Grumpy. Old. Staring problem. Didn’t know what a hash tag was. It was a miracle the team hadn’t shipped him off to a retirement home.

He hadn’t planned to start dating when he met you. It started with a trip to a small bakery after he was given the task to pick up Sam’s birthday cake two years ago. He knew he was a goner as soon as he saw the sweet girl at the counter, smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back seeing your bright eyes, and a touch of flour on your nose. You slipped him an extra cup cake because the blue frosting matched his dreamy eyes. You then clapped a hand over your mouth when you realized you’d said the last bit out loud. You were fucking adorable.

He found himself going back often, always leaving with extra goodies you’d sneak into his bag. Of course he insisted on taking you out as a thank you for always giving him something extra. And then you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. So he returned your kiss with one to your nose. One to his chin. One to your forehead. And finally the sweetest one with your lips pressed together, standing outside of your door, reluctant to let go of each other. It didn’t take long for him to fall in love with you, his adorable little secret.

Sam’s face scrunched watching Bucky stare at his phone, trying to discreetly look at the picture you sent again. His cheeks heated up thinking about the way you’d attack him with kisses and cling onto him like a koala bear whenever he got back from missions.

The second the jet landed, he was speed walking to his room, again trying his best to keep a smile off his face. He quickly threw off his clothes, jumping into the shower and throwing on a clean set of clothes with in minutes moving as fast as he could so he could see you.

Everyone sat around the living room, sneaking glances at the all black outfit he had on, classic broody face, his bike helmet tucked under his hand as he left the building without making eye contact.

“Alright, what’s going on with Barnes?” Tony looked to Steve who looked as lost as everyone else. “He’s been quieter than normal, disappearing into the night, coming back in the mornings”

Steve shrugged; Bucky hadn’t told him anything out of the ordinary, though he did seem to be less irritable. Bucky became the topic of conversation as they tried to figure out what Bucky was up to.

“Maybe he’s seeing someone?”

“Who would date a silent moody staring machine”

“I mean if I was a girl…”

“What about if you were a girl…”

“He’s stares a lot but he’s hot! I could see how the whole lost puppy eyes and metal arm might be appealing”

“Puppy eyes?”

“He looks like one 90% of the time. Girls dig that; now pair that with his arm”

“You need help. Professional help”

“You’re telling me, if you were a girl, you wouldn’t hit that?”

“Ok ok, we can all agree he’s hot but a girlfriend? Don’t you have to be like…nice…smile…let people touch you without threatening to kill them?”

The team hummed in agreement, Bucky wasn’t the girlfriend type.

*****

You were wrapped up in your blanket with heard a knock at the door. It was late, you typically didn’t get visitors around this hour, unless…

You sprinted to the door, squealing and jumping into Bucky’s arms, nearly knocking over your sweet boyfriend. Bucky chuckled, burying his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet scene of vanilla that always lingered on your skin.

“Hey my angel” Bucky’s thick arms wrapped around you, sweeping you off your feet, kicking the door closed with his boot before carrying you over to your room. He peppered kisses all over your face till he reached your bed, flopping on top of you, pulling you close to him.

“I missed you so much babygirl”

*****

The team gathered downstairs, surprised to see Bucky arriving in the same outfit he was in yesterday. He wordlessly passed by them without sparing them a glance, the collar of his leather jacket coving his neck. Odd.

“So…what do we think he was up to now?”

“He’s in a biker gang”

“He’s in a cult”

“What’s wrong with you man?”

“More plausible than him having a girlfriend”

“Professional help. I’ll schedule you an appointment”

*****

Everyone gathered around the living room for a movie night, and while Bucky desperately wanted to ditch them and see you instead, he knew they were getting suspicious. He huffed, his arms crossed, pouting the entire time sitting on a bean bag while Steve bit his lip, trying not to laugh at the mini internal tantrum Bucky was throwing by himself.

Bucky groaned, getting up to grab another beer, reminding himself he’d be able to see you soon. Another hour of this and he’d be able to sneak out and cuddle you again, just one more hour. His phone rang, the lock screen lighting up on the coffee table. His phone never rang. Sam sat up wide eyed looking at the name that lit up on the top.

Pocket Angel

Everyone looked at each other wide eyed as the phone continued to ring.

“Answer it!” Tony hissed, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Do I look like I want to die?” Sam dead panned but he was curious too. And it was still ringing. And then stopped. And then a text message popped up.

See you soon bubba, I miss you x

“Oh my God, he actually has a girl friend!!” Sam howled, clapping a hand over his mouth when Bucky walked back, his eyes growing wide when he realized he left his phone back and there was a missed call.

“Whose your little pocket angel?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows with a shit eating grin on his face. Everyone stared at him, their eyes twinkling, smirking waiting for him to answer. Bucky’s face blushed a deep pink, stuttering, looking at the floor.

“I-I’m in a cult” Bucky groaned internally, you’re a trained assassin you absolute fuckwit.

“You’re in a cult…”

“Yup”

“Told you so”

“Will you shut up, tell us more. What is this cult about, what’s it called, whose the angel-

“I’m the angel?” Bucky rubbed a hand over his face; he didn’t even know why he was still trying to defend this.

“We know you have a girlfriend punk” Steve snorted while Bucky shifted, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “No wonder you’ve been sneaking around everywhere”

A small smile crept on Bucky’s lips, immediately vanishing when everyone collectively aww’d and whistled at him.

“Awwww he’s blushing!” Sam clapped his hands wildly; cackling, absolutely loving the way Bucky was getting more and more flustered.

“Fine, I’m seeing someone, can we please drop it” He grumbled, his cheeks still dusted pink.

“Absolutely not, who is she, why haven’t we met her yet and when do we get to meet her” Tony gave Bucky a pointed look while everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, who’s the mystery girl who’s putting up with your mood ass”

“How long have you been seeing her for anyway”

“2 years” He mumbled, only to be met with a bunch of yelling and 3 cushions thrown to his head.

“WHAT THE HELL BARNES”

“2 YEARS?! 2 FUCKING YEARS?”

“Invite her for the next movie night, come on, please” Nat pleaded. She loved the team, she really did but it would be nice to have another girl around for a change.

“If I invite her over, will you all shut up?” Bucky huffed, running off to his room, while everyone else cheered. A teensy tiny very itty bitty part of him was secretly excited for you to meet everyone.

*****

Movie night

Bucky left the compound on his bike to get you. The team started laying out snacks, everyone giddy with excitement to meet the one who was able to make the super soldier blush. As much as they loved teasing Bucky, everyone had agreed amongst themselves to be on their best behaviour. They figured Bucky was still working on showing his emotions and physical touch was still probably sensitive area for him. However he acted around you wouldn’t be any of their business.

“So we all agree, no teasing him, no making them uncomfortable, no one’s going to call him out for being grumpy?”

Everyone nodded, grinning at each other when they heard the faint rumble of his bike pull to the compound.

You clambered off his bike, nervously clutching onto the bag of cookies you had baked for everyone. Of course you knew who the avengers were, and you’d heard plenty about them from Bucky. He tolerated loved them, you knew you didn’t have to be scared but you were anyway.

“You okay angel?” Bucky felt your hands tremble in his as you made your way towards the entrance.

“Just nervous” You whispered, as Bucky put his arm around you, kissing the top of your head.

“They’ll love you babydoll, nothing to be nervous about. I’m the one who should be nervous; they’ll see what a sweet heart you are and wonder what you’re doing with me”

“Nope, I love you too much” You giggled, leaning into him as he led you through the compound towards the living room where everyone was gathered. They turned around, staring at you wide eyed, poorly masking the shock on their face. They weren’t sure what they were expecting but this wasn’t it.

“Everyone, this is my sweet angel, y/n” First of all, Bucky was smiling. An actual smile. He had his arm around you, gently stroking your waist as he gazed at you with heart eyes.

“Hi” You were tucked into Bucky’s side, smiling shyly at them, your hand resting on his chest.

Everyone greeted you, blinking, trying to hide surprise. They honestly couldn’t tell what was more shocking; he called you angel, he was smiling, he had his arm around you, he had heart eyes for you, what the hell? They were definitely not prepared for what was to come later that night.

Also you were adorable. You were a little ray of sunshine and it was just all too much for the team to handle at once.

“You guys can start the movie, we’ll grab a few snacks and join in a sec” Bucky led you to the kitchen while everyone was struggling to keep from screaming.

“He called her angel?!” Nat squealed, unable to contain her excitement.

“She’s so fucking cute!” Sam sat flabbergasted, glancing over his shoulder, watching Bucky hug you from behind, his head resting on your shoulder, face buried in your neck.

You returned with the cookies on a plate (immediately all gone within seconds), sitting on the couch with Bucky as the movie started to play. You kept a bit of space between Bucky, not sure if he’d be comfortable with sitting to close to him when everyone else was round. You squeaked, feeling his arm pull you onto his lap, kissing the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle you. You giggled, feeling his beard tickle your skin as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Bucky it tickles” You whispered, squirming in his lap, to which he chuckled, holding onto you tighter.

“Too bad, want to cuddle with my baby” He smirked, peppering your cheek with kisses, completely in his own world with you. He cupped your cheek, pressing a sweet soft peck to your lips before you snuggled against him, relaxing in his hold.

No one. Absolutely no one paid attention to the movie, except you. Bucky’s focus was entirely on you, hugging you close to him, kissing you every chance he could get. Everyone else’s focus was on the two of you, specifically on Bucky and how love drunk he was for you.

“You want anything angel, I can make you some hot chocolate” Bucky wouldn’t have even been able to tell you the genre of the movie they were watching, all he wanted to do was cuddle with you and take care of you all night. “Come doll, I’ll make you some”

Bucky effortlessly lifted you into his arms, carrying you into the kitchen, setting you onto the counter while he got started on heating up some milk.

“Who the hell is this guy” Tony hissed, whispering to Clint watching Bucky tuck a hair behind your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear.

“Seriously, can someone explain?” Tony looked to Steve who was blushing, watching Bucky swipe whipped cream onto your nose, kissing it off right after.

“He wasn’t like this in the 40’s, I can’t explain this”

When you both returned, Bucky pulled you into his lap again, his lips brushing your cheek.

“I love you” He whispered, while you giggled, your eyes still on the screen, his eyes on you. You hummed, your face heating up when he hugged you tighter.

“Doll, I love you” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, trailing kisses onto your skin.

“Bucky, watch the movie” You hissed, trying to contain you laugh over the way your needy boyfriend pouted, wanting you to say it back. He cupped your face to make you look at him, his cheeks flushed, a goofy grin on his face because he was so utterly in love with you. And you where here. With his family. He no longer had to keep it a secret, he could show you off to the entire world, his perfect sweet angel.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you my Bucky baby” You whispered, smiling softly, wrapping your arms around him, kissing his forehead before snuggling into his chest, sleep starting to creep up on you. You let out a little yawn, to which Bucky grabbed the fuzzy throw blanket, pulling it on top of you.

“You sleepy baby?” You shook your head, though you closed your eyes, the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart started to lull you to sleep. Bucky smiled at the way you were curled up on him, kissing the top of your head, stroking your hair while you slept. “M’so lucky to have you angel”

A whimper and obscene snorting noise interrupted everyone’s focus from you and Bucky, Tony, Nat and Clint, turning around to see Steve reach for the box of tissues, grabbing one before passing it to Sam, quickly dabbing his eyes and blowing his nose.

“For fucks sake, are you two crying?!” Clint’s face scrunched up looking at Sam trying to discreetly wipe his eyes, sniffling into his tissue.

“I-It’s the movie” He stuttered, Steve nodding his head vigoursly in agreement.

“We were watching Rush Hour, what the hell were you crying about” Tony snorted, turning off the TV and the movie came to an end. The team looked back to the couch where Bucky had also fallen asleep, with you tucked safely in his arms.

“They’re so cute” Nat gushed, seeing you nuzzle into Bucky’s chest even in your sleep.

“So that’s his little secret” Clint mused, as everyone started to quietly get up, not watching to disturb you both.

“You okay there ice pop?” Tony snickered looking at Steve who was looking at you both like a proud mother hen. Steve nodded, sniffling watching the two of you snuggle each other, blissfully in love. The name Bucky had for you was perfect, you really were his angel.

Adding this mini bonus because I can see it happening, @anghstybean you inspired this 🥺

He’s such a teddy bear.

Imagine you come around the compound more and the team sees just how soft he is for you.

Sam and Tony collectively lose their minds when they hear you call him Bucky bear, baby bear, cinnamon roll, Jamie, he’s too in love with you to care that they call him that now too.

Imagine the hydra agents face when Tony tells baby bear to go to the west wing and they see all 6ft + of the winter soldier burst through the door.

Pillow forts. Esp after missions.

He cooks for you on his days off (and it’s amazing, Sam’s sister has taught him a few things)

Foot rubs. Back rubs. He kisses each toe while gently squeezing your feet. He grazes your back while lying down on his chest, the both of you watching TV.

And it never gets easier for the team to watch because just when they think they’ve seen it all, Bucky does some cute shit and their surprised all over again.

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed! (also this is an 18+ blog, I can’t tag nameless/ageless blogs)

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @needybabygirlstuff @goldylions @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @high-functioning-lokipath @elle14-blog1

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Mature Tags: Angst, Not A Fix-It, Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Revival, Weddings, Crying, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, brief vague mentions of sexy times Summary: Maybe it’s not a smart choice, but Steve has to take it. He has to. He always said he would do anything to see Bucky again, would give anything just to talk to him one last time.The room’s atmosphere changes entirely, as if a hurricane of warm winds rushed through it even though nothing moves, and suddenly, in a shimmer of orange, a silhouette starts to form.

For @whumptober Day 8: Back from the Dead For @cabottombingo Bingo E1: "Missed Opportunities"

It’s not often that Steve would call himself a desperate man but he understands, truly now, the meaning of “desperate times call for desperate measures”. The world isn’t the same. This is something that he’s had to make peace with. It all starts when he wakes up in the middle of what they claim is New York, but doesn’t sound or look or smell like New York. It starts with a man in an eyepatch and a black trenchcoat by the name of Nicholas Fury. It starts when he realizes that Bucky is truly, woefully, forever gone.

It’s a no-brainer that Steve wants to catch up on everything that’s happened, and wants to know how his friends made out after the initial shock wears off. He works himself up to it, his team has already warned him a hundred times what happened.

It doesn’t hurt any less when he sees the taunting, large block letters reading across the dossiers.

DECEASED.

MISSING IN ACTION.

DECEASED.

Steve always knew that Peggy was a resilient, brilliant woman. Her folder is the only one that doesn’t have those horrendous, bright red letters screaming up at him.

RETIRED.

It doesn’t tell him where she is – he had asked the information be omitted since he wasn’t really sure what he’d do with that information anyway. If the past is truly dead and gone, why reopen such a fragile, fragmented piece of it? Peggy Carter was a woman he had kissed once, and promised a dance to, but she was a woman that had lived a long, successful life marrying someone who had stayed with her for decades.

The last folder in his pile, the one that he’s dreading the most, holds three words that never fail to make the frayed edges of his heart unravel so alarmingly fast. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to dying, the Valkyrie be damned.

KILLED IN ACTION.

The thing is: Steve had never wanted to believe it. Part of him thought of all the times Bucky had saved him, all the times he had stepped up for him, fought for him, bled for him. When they were children, Bucky had been his superhero, so really, it only made sense that he would come through again, right? He knows it’s against all odds, against all probabilities, for Bucky to come back to him, like he used to; it’s a naïve hope, but some days it's the only thing that keeps him going.

SHIELD gives him a purpose — it tells him that he’s still needed and that he still has value. All the things that he had originally wanted to enlist for, SHIELD has given him. Even as he looks up to the red, blue and white shield, revamped from Howard Stark design, that sense of justice and pride swells within him. It just seems more hollow now that he doesn’t share it with Bucky.

When he’s out in the field, and sees a man drop, he has to resist the urge to look behind him, to salute Bucky. Because it’s Clint's voice in his ear, not Bucky’s. When a pistol goes off, and Steve knows that there’s a difference in the sound, his mind still tricks him into believing it’s Bucky’s sniper. But it’s not, it never is, it never will be again. The thought cuts through him, deeper than any bullet.

He’s been told that time will help him heal, but he’s really not sure that’s true. In fact, he thinks the words of Rose Kennedy sum it up for him perfectly.

It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessons. But it is never gone.

Except for some days, the pain doesn’t pass at all. He’s still left with the feeling that his heart is trying to claw its way out of his chest at any given moment. It’s not like he doesn’t try. He does what the doctors tell him to do — he takes his walks, he eats three square meals, he sleeps — well, he doesn’t exactly get the recommended amount of sleep, but he tries.

The thing about New York is, it feels like he’s supposed to be coming home, because it had been his home for so many years, that seeing it like this is jarring. It’s not the Brooklyn he knows, and he understands that times have changed and so has he, but it doesn’t stop him from yearning. Because if his home had been with Bucky and his home has changed, then that’s just one more piece he’s lost. One more connection to Bucky, one more memory of them, one more thing he can’t gain back.

He goes on every mission that’s available. He’s certain that Fury is aware, and he’s being taken advantage of. He’s also aware that Natasha is keeping a close eye on him, worried he’ll compromise them. He knows that Clint is also looking at him, worried for a different reason, perhaps. But all eyes are on him once again. It’s why he can’t stop and stare when he sees a navy blue pea coat in a store window, or why he chooses to visit the Smithsonian during hours that nobody else is there hidden behind his baseball cap and hunched shoulders. He doesn’t cry, when he sees Bucky’s face, when he hears the speakers say that he was the only Howling Commando to give his life in the war. No, he waits until he’s back in his room, door locked, and under his covers. That’s when he cries for Bucky, emptying everything inside of him until he’s hollow.

His therapist knows that he grieves. Maybe not how much, but she knows. She asks him things like “how are you feeling” and Steve is of the opinion that if she really knew, she wouldn’t be asking.

Still, he’s pretty honest with her, all things considered. At least, he tries to be. He tells her that he feels like a man out of time. He says he feels like he had only just found his purpose before it was taken and this is now some sort of strange compensation. He feels naked.

She tells him that all of these things are normal, but how can she really know? He is, and doubtedly, the only person in the world in this position because there isn’t anyone else like him in the entire universe, and the one person who would’ve tried to understand him, or love him regardless, is gone.

Steve is, by no common means, a modern man. He tries to follow along with what Stark says. Maybe it’s just that Tony talks too fast or that his tech is even more advanced, but it all seems like too much all at once. He likes Netflix. He likes Spotify. He even manages alright with online shopping.

But what really sets him off and throws him for a loop is the fact that he can pull up Bucky's face anywhere at any time. Pages of history books, recreation in the form of art, imagination, and dreams. He discovers fanart, and can’t help but read some of the comments. Sometimes he agrees with them, like yeah, you’re right, Bucky was too handsome for his own good.

The more he looks at the art, the more his fingers itch. Technically, it’s been decades since he’s picked up a pencil. But when he browses through pages and pages, he can’t help but think to himself actually, his eyes were way more blue than that or his hair’s much wavier on top than that. The black-and-white photographs in the textbooks don’t do any justice to the Bucky Barnes Steve knew and lo —

He always ends up putting his phone down.

Worse than technology was: magic. It was, at first, a dream. He thinks about magic tricks, about Bucky waving a deck of cards in his face asking him to pick one out. He thinks about Bucky using his party tricks to make the girls giggle and ask him to reveal his secrets. This magic though, the magic that he sees from Dr. Stephen Strange, it’s beyond a deck of cards or a nickel behind the ear.

It’s Peter that originally gives him the idea. He happens to overhear the conversation between the teenager and the sorcerer.

He knows that it’s been hard for Peter, having his identity revealed like that. He can’t imagine what that’s like. The war, when it happened, demanded all of Steve, both as Steven Grant Rogers and Captain America. His face is in museums and books, there wasn’t any hiding. So, he can imagine what Peter feels, just a little bit — what Peter is going through.

“Please, Dr. Strange. They don’t deserve this, just because of me.”

Steve can hear the desperation in Peter’s voice as he pleads with Dr. Strange for his friends and his family more than for himself. That part, Steve can relate to. He likes Peter, he thinks that Peter is noble, and he understands why Peter is making a request. That’s why it feels even more awful that Steve knows there’s nothing they can do about it. That is, until Dr. Strange surprises him.

Now, Steve isn’t one to question Dr. Strange usually, but there is something very concerning about using what seems like a very powerful spell for such a simple problem.

“Well have you called them and asked them to reconsider?” Steve asks, a memory from his own past creeping in.

“Um… I can… do that?” Peter asks with a doe-eyed expression.

“CAN YOU — YOU DIDN'T EVEN ASK?” Dr. Strange hollers.

Peter, at least, has the audacity to look sheepish at the question, while Stephen looks about two seconds away from throwing Peter into an unknown dimension.

“We had this art program,” Steve starts, with his eyes glued to the floor as the memory replays in his head. “There’s no way that I could have afforded it of course, and I absolutely refused to let Bucky pay for it, but he was determined to get me in there. I didn’t think there was a way either. So you can imagine my surprise when the letter of acceptance comes to me. I got mad, went to yell, but he said that all he did was plead my case. Walked right into the building with my sketchbook and without my permission, but he told them that I absolutely needed it. And what do you know? It worked.”

He’s proud of himself for not choking up — it’s one of his favourite memories of Bucky, the way those blue eyes lit up when he regaled Steve of his exploits. He couldn't believe it. Actually, he hadn't, and he’d spent a whole week being suspicious of Bucky, even after the man had tossed his cash on the table as if to say “well if I paid for your program, how could I still have this?!”

The first day of the program, he’d asked who paid for his admission. That’s when he learned what a grace entry was, that every so often, exceptions are made for those with enough talent.

Steve had made it up to Bucky that night, and every night after. Up until the war took him.

☆☆☆

So Peter does call MIT, and both MJ and Ned get accepted and all is well. Except that it isn’t.

Because now, he thinks about the fact that Doctor Strange holds enough power to wipe people's memories, just like that. He can do a lot of things. He has the ability to turn back time, to make Steve’s life whole again. The thought consumes him.

He does his best to rationalize himself that you should never mess with time travel because that’s what he had told Peter. He tries to distract himself by looking at his phone, where a smiling picture of Bucky looks back at him from his lock screen and Steve knows with all of his heart that he’s fighting a losing battle.

At least he sits on this for a month, and he’s quite proud of himself for that actually. He tries to talk himself out at least 2,000 times, but to no avail. So when he approaches Doctor Strange, he doesn’t expect the knowing smile on the sorcerer‘s face.

“I had a suspicion that you would ask.”

“Ask what?”

The only answer he gets is a small know-it-all grin, while he follows Dr. Strange inside his sanctum wondering why there was snow, of all things, covering every inch of the place.

“Coffee?” The doctor asks, waving his own steaming mug in the air.

“No, thank you. Were you expecting me?”

“I was actually expecting you sooner,” Dr. Strange answers truthfully after a sip of his beverage. “The story you told Peter — was it true?”

“It was.”

“Hm,” Doctor Strange hums as his eyes drift across the Sanctum. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, when you speak of him.”

There’s something wistful in Dr. Strange’s eyes, and now that Steve thinks about it, his place seems quite big and lonely. He thinks Dr. Strange might understand him better than he thought.

“What’s with all the snow?” Steve finally asks.

“You didn’t come here to ask about my snow, follow me.”

It's not Steve’s first time at the Sanctum, but it is his first time being led around and given an actual tour. It’s fascinating, the things that Strange has kept — he would ask about it, if he was certain it wouldn't just create more questions.

He’s being led downstairs, where the walls are decorated and warmly coloured. It’s here that Strange stops his entire world with a sentence.

“I can bring him back for one day, and one day only.”

☆☆☆

He doesn’t even think twice; he doesn’t ask for more or bargain because he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done since waking up, saying yes.

“The longest day of the year is in ten days, if you want to wait, it’ll give you a few minutes more.”

Steve nods emphatically. Anything — he would do anything for all the time he could get. He takes the ten days to plan, and think about what he��s going to do with that precious time. His stomach is in constant turmoil, bunched with nervousness to the point where he even has a hard time eating. The rest of the team notices almost immediately, of course, but when they asked, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Not yet, anyway. Bucky… Bucky was his deepest secret, back in the day, and he’d hated it. But now, it feels like simply Bucky to himself a little while longer.

By the time a week had passed, he was insufferable. He’d stopped accepting messages from Fury, too distracted and jittery.

It’s Nat that breaks him first, with a glare and arms crossed over her chest in a way that strikes fear in most.

He explains, sheepishly, hoping that he’s not getting his hopes up too high, and it feels like something cracks inside him. Suddenly, all his fears bubble to the surface. He’s afraid that he’s being too naive and that maybe he’s trifled with something he really shouldn’t have. What if Bucky comes back… not Bucky? What if he comes back with no memory of who Steve is?

He should have really asked Strange for details, he thinks belatedly.

“Cap, I…”

For once, the Black Widow is speechless.

“Yeah.” Steve knows he’s in over his head, but that doesn’t quite matter now, does it?

☆☆☆

It’s a lot less fanfare than he had originally expected. He’d had it in his mind that magic was fancy and colourful, like he’d expected Dr. Strange to throw glitter or for fireworks to go off, but the actual affair is far from any of that. Maybe it’s because of how dark it still is, that it seems a lot duller than he imagined.

Dr. Strange closes his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating, and Steve can feel it. The room’s atmosphere changes entirely, as if a hurricane of warm winds rushed through it even though nothing moves, and suddenly, in a shimmer of orange, a silhouette starts to form. Steve tears up as the shape begins to take on definition, recognizing each line it makes – the slope of Bucky’s forehead, his cheekbones, that jawline. He watches in amazement as an Adam’s apple forms with his neck, which blends into the familiar slant of Bucky’s shoulders and arms.

It’s really him. Bucky, looking every bit as Steve remembered, but in the times where they were happy. Finally, Steve can finally replace the last memory he has, of the terror on Bucky’s face as he had fallen, hand stretched out for his. It’s haunted him every day, the few inches between his fingers and Bucky’s, the fact that he couldn’t save the person he cared about the most.

“Holy –”

Steve chokes a bit, watching Bucky’s eyes widen as he takes in his surroundings.

“Stevie?”

God – god – how he’d been dying to hear that, to hear Bucky’s voice saying his name so sweetly with the inflection that is only Bucky. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky so tightly he can actually hear Bucky wheeze as the air’s knocked out of him.

“Bu - Bucky,” he sobs into the other man’s shoulder, willing himself to loosen up, at least enough to let Bucky breathe.

“Yeah, pal, m’right here,” Bucky replies, though his arms still encompass Steve, confusion evident in his voice. “Where exactly is here?”

“Allow me,” Dr. Strange interjects. Honestly, Steve had momentarily forgotten the doctor was even here. “I’m sure this is all quite sudden and confusing for you. You’re in the future now. The year 2019, to be exact.”

“Two thousand and –” Bucky stops, and pries himself out of Steve’s grip for a moment to look him in the eye. “I dunno what grandstand alla this is, or who this poor soul is in cahoots with ya, but 2019? Come on, Steve –”

Steve had thought about it, of course. He remembered how jarring it had been to wake up in this totally new world, how much he wishes he could have eased into it. So he holds Bucky’s hands, squeezing the life out of them and implores him to trust this process, before Dr. Strange can continue.

“I promise you, I’m gonna explain it all, but you know I would never lie to you. I’m tellin’ ya, this is real.”

Bucky’s definitely not convinced in the slightest, but he does trust Steve, and that’s enough. “Ya betta not be raggin’ on me, pal.”

☆☆☆

Steve knows he has to be patient. It’s a huge shock to the system and he of all people should know that, but he can’t help the impatience that edges in, too. He has less than twelve hours with Bucky, and he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

He’s rushing the explanation, watching Bucky’s eyebrows do a complex dance of disbelief throughout it.

“What utter nonsense did you jus’ force me to listen to?” He shakes his head, eyes widening, overwhelmed with information. “That’s cockeyed, Stevie, whaddya take me for? I ain’t a schnook – I can’t be – dead.”

“You are,” Steve insists, pained. “Believe me, I wish more than anything that it wasn’t. And it’s all my fault, good, I’m sor –”

“Alright, enough o’ that, none of this is your fault,” Bucky sighs, even though he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. It’s all strange, and sudden, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful just to see Steve again. Logically, he knows there’s some truth to what Steve is saying, given how he’s dressed and how he talks. His accent is… smoother, lilted differently. He sure ain’t just a kid from Brooklyn anymore.

“So much has changed, Buck,” Steve starts again. He tells him the important things, the technology that he knows Bucky would just die to see. The people they knew and where they’d ended up.

“Wait, so,” Bucky holds up a hand, his head shaking. “You’re tellin’ me that Howard never finished that flyin’ car, got himself a son, and he didn’t finish a flying car either but he made a flyin’ suit?”

Steve blinks. “Well you just make it sound stupid.”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, let’s go! Show me everythin’!”

☆☆☆

Bucky walks a little stiffly beside him, eyes darting all over the city as they walk along, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s back.

“Buck, I promise you, it’s okay these days.”

He can see that Bucky doesn’t quite believe him, but the longer they walk, the more he loosens up, seeing that nobody’s making a fuss. Slowly, he works his hand into Bucky’s, ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes grow large. He distracts Bucky by pointing out just about everything, and even though they’ve only gone around one block, Bucky’s eyes are as wide as saucers when they get back to the tower, where JARVIS then promptly blows his mind.

Steve shows him all the Stark Tech he has, his phone, the TV. He introduces him to the Roomba and orders them a ridiculous spread of food. He wants Bucky to try everything.

Bucky’s face lights up at all the things he’s been shown and Steve –

Steve falls in love with him all over again, and it feels like danger. It makes his stomach churn and his heart flip as he gets lost in Bucky’s smile, and the way he talks with his hands. He gets lost in watching Bucky’s lips as he talks, gets lost in the curling, lopsided smile that makes just one cheek dimple. Lost, lost, lost. And he never wants to be found again.

“God, I love you,” he blurts out in the middle of Bucky trying salted caramel hot chocolate.

Bucky nearly chokes on it, patting his chest, and Steve immediately feels bad. He puts his cup down, and looks at Steve with a wondrous look. “Lord, Steve, Christ –”

“Sorry.” Steve sheepishly scratches the back of his neck while Bucky recovers.

“But…” Bucky’s not sure how to put it. Steve’s been awake, living, and surrounded by so many people while Bucky’s been – been dead, according to Steve.

“But nothin’,” Steve declares, knowing that his time is running out. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. Always have.”

“Well, what the hell are we wastin’ time for?”

And wasn’t that an excellent question? Steve surges forward, his heart thumping uncontrollably as Bucky meets him halfway.

Kissing Bucky is –

God, kissing Bucky is everything he remembers and dreams of, his tongue moving on its own in perfect harmony with Bucky’s. He barely suppresses a moan, his cock instantly taking interest, always eager for anything to do with Bucky. There’s a chuckle against Steve’s lips, because evidently, Bucky can feel it too.

“Some things don’t change,” Bucky murmurs, but his half-lidded eyes are looking at Steve with a familiar hunger.

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees dumbly, still staring at Bucky like he holds the answer to all of Steve’s worries.

“C’mere, ya punk.”

Steve goes so, so easily. Hell, he would do anything Bucky asked of him, give anything that Bucky wants to take and take anything Bucky wants to give.

“Bucky…” Steve whispers.

“Steve,” he growls back.

Some things are simply muscle memory, it seems, because his hands run up Bucky’s back, fingers digging into warm skin he knows so well, tracing the same lines of muscle that he always has. He can nearly picture the light freckles on Bucky’s back, mapping the constellation of them across his shoulder blades from memory.

“I’ve missed you so –”

Bucky’s mouth interrupts him again, hungrier this time, his hands tugging at Steve’s shirt and Steve’s body wakes up in ways it hasn’t since he came out of the ice.

☆☆☆

“Mmrh,” Bucky groans from underneath him, hands grasping the sides of Steve’s face, who’s straddling his waist.

It’s honestly quite impressive how fast Steve’s cock can fill, and yet totally expected because Bucky is the only one he’s ever reacted to this way. His body is hardwired to respond to Bucky at any time, in any capacity.

“Bucky,” Steve gasps when he’s given a moment to breathe.

“Darling,” Bucky responds in kind, eyes half-lidded when they look up.

“Please,” Steve begs. “Please – like we used to –”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Steve insists, emphatically. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s eyes roam over Steve’s body, the body that had surprised him in Azzano, the one he hadn’t really been able to explore and it kills Steve to see the slight hesitation.

Steve knew the moment he stepped out of Stark’s machine that he had changed, drastically. But just on the outside. Sure, his body had given him new life and as much as he hated his rattling lungs, there were things that he had missed. Like curling up in Bucky’s arms, like being treated as though he were something precious, but not weak. He doesn’t want that to change – doesn’t want Bucky to look at him differently.

“Doesn’t have to change anything,” Steve insists, his cheeks warm and going pink.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, taking Steve’s mouth again, flipping them over, and it’s everything that Steve wants. He lets his shoulders relax for the first time in decades, lets Bucky take care of him in a way that he doesn't let anyone else do. Bucky’s kisses taste like caramel and chocolate, a dizzying, beautiful sweetness that Steve chases.

Steve introduces Bucky to lube and super serum stamina.

“I… did not know I could do that,” Bucky pants, partly in awe.

“We can do that,” Steve reminds him, rolling his hips upward, his spent cock not quite all the way soft.

“Oh.”

☆☆☆

“Buck?”

“Mm?” He’s still laid out, all relaxed under Steve, his fingers swirling circular patterns in Steve’s shoulder.

“Get dressed, I wanna do something.”

Bucky huffs, but the grin on his face indicates he doesn’t really mind. “Bossy.”

When they’re both at least in pants, Steve tugs him to the window. The Sun is at its peak, shining brightly, warming them through the wall-to-ceiling glass.

“Steve, what –”

Steve turns to Bucky and hastily drops to one knee with the widest smile he’s ever summoned. “Sh. I’ve waited my whole life to be able to do this. James Bucky Barnes, will you marry me?”

Bucky’s mouth hangs open as he looks down at Steve.

“… It’s legal now,” Steve adds lamely, when Bucky still doesn’t say anything.

Bucky just narrows his eyes, because really, that’s the least of his concerns right now. How could Steve not get it? He shakes his head. “Steve, I… I’m…” Bucky swallows, thick with emotion. “You know it ain’t gonna be real.”

“Yes, it will,” Steve protests adamantly. “It’ll be real to me, and it’ll be real to you, won’t it? And that’s all that matters.”

Bucky rubs his forehead, the way he does when he’s exasperated by Steve’s outlandish ideas. “Stevie, babydoll, c’mon. Think for a second. Ya deserve more than this — ya wanna do the whole thing. The wedding, the party, the rings and vows and all o’ that, remember? Used to talk about it all the time. I can’t give ya any of that. ‘Specially not the happy ending part.”

Bucky looks heartbroken, and Steve won’t have it.

“Yes we can!” Steve jumps up, suddenly struck with lightning ideas.

“Steve.” Man, Steve had forgotten just how scathing Bucky’s disappointed voice could be.

“We don’t have time to argue, just do this for me,” Steve insists, kissing him deeply. “I can make it happen. I swear. Please, please?”

“Oh fuckin’ hell –”

And that’s how the rest of the team meets Bucky. It’s not exactly how Steve had pictured it. Well, Steve hadn’t really pictured it, because it’d been impossible, but he’d dreamt of these things – snippets of his life here and now, if Bucky were still here.

The first stop is Tony’s workshop, where Tony almost drops his project right on his foot and Natasha rubs her temple tiredly.

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaims, his eyes comically wide.

Steve, used to it, follows up with “... So, this is Tony Stark.”

“And that,” Tony says with a dramatic point at Bucky. “Is your dead best friend.”

“It’s actually Bucky. Bucky Barnes,” Bucky responds like the little shit he is. Steve’s already so proud of him.

“I goddamn know who you are.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it.”

Steve watches them, before Tony just guffaws, and waves them both closer.

Nat eyes Bucky up and down – either as a spy or an interested party, Steve can’t be sure – but when he turns to Bucky, there’s a patented heartbreaker grin on his face. Some things don’t change, and it settles Steve more than anything, even if it would make most jealous. Steve’s heart swells when he sees his first family and his new found family mesh together, and as he explains his plan, he’s aware of just how absurd it sounds.

What makes him eternally grateful is that they don’t question it. Nat nods once, like she’s accepting a mission and, well, Steve supposes it kind of is. She strides out of the lab with a wave of her fingers and a promise to have everything ready within the next few hours. Steve has no idea how she’s going to put together a wedding in that amount of time, but he’s learned long ago not to question her.

Steve’s got a pretty high favour to ask from Tony now. Tony places a hand over his heart. “I’m offended you’d even ask that. Of course I can, have you met? Piece o’ cake. Who’s first?”

“Me,” Steve puts forth. He’d normally give Bucky the first chance at anything, but this is a special occasion. “I’ve known since I was a teen.”

Bucky, for his part, looks shyly around the lab, and immediately becomes enamoured by Dum-E, despite the robot’s missing arm. Steve watches him at the other end of the lab, listening to Bucky’s soft laughs as the robot tries to hand him a pen and promptly drops it at Bucky’s feet without its main limb.

“Dear ol’ dad didn’t mention that you two were so disgustingly in love,” Tony mutters as he goes over the design for his ring. It’s a simple design, a smooth silver band with an engraving on the inside – that’s the part that really matters to him. ‘Til the end of the line.

“Bucky is The One,” Steve explains with a shrug, because it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

☆☆☆

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous – he shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that Natasha has really pulled off something impossible. He’s sure she called in every favour she had stored up and wrangled Pepper into this somehow, because the outside deck of Tony’s tower looks incredible. Even better than he’d imagined. Granted, back in the day, a lot of this might not have been realistic and he sure as hell hadn’t thought about any weddings since he lost Bucky.

He lets the slight breeze ruffle his hair as he looks around the transformed terrace.

“You ready?” Nat asks, sidling up next to him with a glass of champagne in her hand.

“I’ve been ready since I was fifteen,” Steve admits, grimacing at how that sounds.

“It’s sweet,” Nat reassures him. “He’s going to take your breath away.”

Steve is irrationally jealous that she’s already seen Bucky in his wedding day best – a suit commissioned and tailored, at Tony’s insistence. He bites his tongue to stop himself from saying something awfully cheesy.

Like: “He always takes my breath away.”

Jesus, he’s a mess.

She’s still right though. When they’re both revealed, he really does feel all the air leave his lungs as his eyes water at the sight. He’s even worse when they exchange vows, an absolute fucking disaster. Bucky’s smile is so devastating that by the time ‘til death do us part Steve is a goner.

He takes a deep breath to pull himself together, to say his vows — the words from his letters he couldn’t send and the things he never thought he’d get the chance to say.

He gets to put the silver band on Bucky, his promise now pressed to Bucky’s skin, wrapped around Bucky’s finger.

Bucky’s ring for him was so similar, it makes Steve smile. They’d always been on the same page, after all. He gets to wear it with pride, knowing that Bucky had this made for him.

He gets to kiss his husband.

He gets everything he’s ever dreamed of.

☆☆☆

“Save me a dance, would ya?” Bucky says.

This is usually where Steve would go “nah, cmon, Buck, you know I got two left feet” but not today.

Today, he smiles and says, “of course.”

It’s perfect, until it isn’t. It’s perfect in that neither of them stop smiling, in the way they get to feed each other some ridiculous buttercream cake and the way Bucky steals the dance floor, eyes glued to Steve’s the whole time, beckoning him.

Except the sun is fading in the distance, and Steve knows that his time is almost up.

He steps into Bucky’s arms, and holds him as close as he can.

Suddenly I'm falling a thousand stories high It's amazing and it's crazy and I'm strangely satisfied You grab my hand and the color in my world comes alive But I never planned to fall in love We watched the hours and the sunlight run away Talking of dreams, childhood memories, and family holidays You were a stranger, then a lover, now something more I cannot say Maybe this time it could be love Cause you feel like home When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh, you feel like home

He’s pressed to Bucky, resting his cheek against Bucky’s temple and breathing in deeply. It still smells like Bucky, underneath Steve’s soap, their scents mingling together.

You feel like home On a starlit summer night You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home Suddenly I'm falling a thousand stories high It's too late to turn back now so I look deep into your eyes You pull me close, kiss me softly under the city lights Somewhere in there I fell in love You feel like home (Oh oh oh home)

“Thank you, Buck,” he whispers. “This is everything I ever hoped for.”

“Me too, Stevie. Me too.”

When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home I didn't see this comin', but this time I'm not runnin' Cause you feel like home When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Home) On a starlit summer night (Summer night)

They had slowly rocked their way out onto the balcony, away from the crowd and noise. Out here, it was just the warm breeze and the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat. Steve commits it to memory.

You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Feel like home) When I look into your eyes Your kisses taste like sunshine You turn me on so bright Oh you feel like home You feel like home (Feel like home) On a starlit summer night You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home You're the drumbeat of my heart Your lovin' red as wine Oh you feel like home…

“It’s time, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs as the song fades away, in the softest voice Steve’s ever heard. He knows it’s for his own benefit, because he’s a pindrop away from breaking.

“I can’t do this without you,” Steve tells him yet again. Doesn’t Bucky understand? That Steve needs him?

“You can,” Bucky assures him. “You have.”

Steve wants to protest, wants to tell Bucky the truth that he really, really hasn’t. That he’s been faking it this whole time, putting one foot in front of the other like a good soldier. But the war’s over, and he doesn’t want to be a soldier anymore.

“This is g’bye, sweetheart.” Bucky’s eyes are watering but he still forces a smile for Steve even as he starts to fade with the setting sun. “I’m glad I got to say it this time, and to tell you that I love you. Always have.”

“And I will never stop loving you,” Steve vows. “You’re it for me, Buck. I –”

Steve gets choked up, because Bucky’s practically translucent now, it’ll be mere seconds before he loses Bucky. Again.

“You’re it for me, too, darlin’. Now, don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.” Bucky smiles, more radiant than the halo of fading sunlight around them. He manages to land one last kiss on Steve’s lips, and Steve can barely feel it but it’s there. Their last kiss.

“How can I?” Steve manages, through a harsh sob, his voice cracking, his fingers closing around nothing but air.

Just like that, Bucky’s gone, and Steve’s faced with nothing but the pink and orange sky.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve whispers to no one in particular, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm as he drops like a deadweight. He’s consumed with the ache of missing Bucky already. Again.

He swears he can still feel the light pressure of Bucky’s kiss, and he covers a hand over his mouth, like he can keep it there for as long as he lives.

He looks down at his hand, at the silver band that gleams in the morning light — the piece of Bucky that will stay with him ‘til the end of the line.

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #back from the dead #MCU #stucky #fic #canonical character death #temporary character revival #angst #not a fix-it #stucky fanfiction #cabottombingo

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themculibrary · 2 years

Note

okok so ive been really in the mood for some non-explicit femslash pairs, but ive been having some trouble finding some. im open to reading darcy/wanda, peggy/natasha, natasha/maria, natasha/pepper, america/kate, katy/xialing, mantis/nebula, maria/carol, okeye/natasha, and sif/valkyrie. of course i dont need fics for all of these, but i thought id give you options :) can you help?

okay so my best advice for finding non-explicit fics is going to ao3 and head down to exclude and make sure you tick the explicit box and exclude any smut tags you don’t wanna see in your searches.

but here’s some fics that you might enjoy:

Coffee Shop Mishaps (ao3) - ellebanshee maria/natasha T, 5k

Summary: When Natasha gets dragged along to go to a coffee shop just outside of campus instead of going to the library to write her paper she never knew she’d meet a girl named Maria that gave her feelings like no one else has before.

i just want to make a change (ao3) - subwaycars kate/america G, 24k

Summary: After everything, America is the constant Kate expected least.

No Retreat, No Surrender (ao3) - Haywire maria/natasha G, 7k

Summary: After the Avengers send Loki back to Asgard in Thor’s custody, Natasha and Maria run into each other and spend an unscheduled day together, changing their relationship in a fundamental way in the process.

porcelain (ao3) - luckybxrnes wanda/natasha T, 26k

Summary: they meet on opposite sides of a battle.

Rebuilding (ao3) - vassalady maria/pepper/natasha G, 3k

Summary: Maria, Pepper, and Natasha eventually find their way to one another.

Starbucks and Starkbucks (ao3) - Takara_Phoenix okoye/natasha T, 4k

Summary: The world was saved, Thanos defeated. With new, and old, heroes to take over, Natasha retires to live in Wakanda with Okoye, after years of a long-distance relationship. But Natasha has to deal with her survivor guilt and doesn’t know how to handle retirement. As a distraction, she decides to play matchmaker for Bucky, who had returned to goat-herding, and Tony, who was there for his own recovery after the snap.

Take Me Out (ao3) - just_makeing_it_gay_97 maria/natasha G, 5k

Summary: Nat and Maria have to pretend to date in an effort to win back the public opinion after New York, let's see how that goes.

Eventual Nat/Maria, teasing Nat, aggitated Maria. Pansexual Nat, Lesbian Maria, Bisexual Tony, Questioning Steve

there's a girl who's close to me (ao3) - gsparkle mantis/nebula T, 1k

Summary: Nebula may not have been Thanos’ smartest daughter, or strongest, but the one thing she’s always had over Gamora is the hardness of her heart. While Gamora saves planets and raises baby trees and fumbles with that idiot Peter, Nebula remains impervious. She will not be swayed by sentiment. She is not in this universe to make friends.

undercover in our overcoats (ao3) - Dayadhvam peggy/natasha T, 5k

Summary: Prague, 1968. Neither Agent Carter nor the Black Widow would have called it anything like love.

Who The Fuck Wants To Die Alone (ao3) - paperclipbitch kate/america T, 7k

Summary: Normal!AU. “I don’t know why I have to get involved in this anyway,” Clint huffs. “Or haven’t you told this chick that you’re working a job you don’t need and live in a magical Disney palace?”

i’m gonna start a masterlist too!

#answered #anonymous #femslash #maria hill #natasha romanoff #kate bishop #america chavez #wanda maximoff #pepper potts #okoye #mantis #nebula #peggy carter #general #teenandup #f/f

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blackjackmagi83 · 2 years

Text

Criminal Behavior (2)

Masterlist

WC: 1.8k

Pairing: Druglords Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes X Detective Original Female Character-

Summary: Rose Phillips, one of the best vice detectives in the game, was given a mission to catch the biggest drug lord in all of New York. James Buchanan Barnes. Framing as a lady of the night at a hidden gentlemen’s club, her mission being to do anything it takes to lure her target into her trap. Even if it means going through one of his accomplices to get there. Will the notorious criminals fall for her trap or will Rose fall for their criminal behavior?

Warnings: Lots of swearing, violence, and mild sexual content.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♡

“You know you’re meant to smile darling, a glare like that will make our guests feel unwelcome.”

Rose looked as close to the part as she was comfortable but felt like a naked mannequin on display in a clothing store. Adorned in an all lace lingerie, a deep burgundy to contrast the fairness of her skin, with a short see through rhinestone gown for added coverage in certain areas. Black stilettos bit at her toes with every step making it feel as if she was walking on glass with bare soles.

“There's a reason that smiling isn't on my resume Nat."

It had been only an hour on her third shift of the week at the club and nothing but misery and expensive booze had come out of it. The men on her radar had yet to make an appearance forcing her patience to simmer. Something she’s never had a lot of to begin with.

After the opening speech, Rose had skimmed the perimeter as she tried not to stumble over her newly found height, coming to only retired billionaires and black market smugglers. The bar seemed to be the best place to lavish in fancy drinks without a wrinkled hand skimming her inner thighs. She already tried that approach to blend in, only to come seconds into punching the creep. Reflexes she had yet to tame fully. Natasha made sure to scorn her the entire night for that mess she had to clean.

“It is now so learn it fast, you have a new client awaiting your attention.”

Crystal baby blue eyes were skimming over her in lustful interest, polished fingers running through silky blonde hair as they struggled to control their thoughts at their attention being noticed.

“Don’t make the Captain wait too long.”, Natasha's sultry voice whispered as she reached for a mint from the glass bowl beside the detective.

Rose shot a hidden glare beneath the laced mask that traced her eyes as she pushed off the stool. Razor sharp tingles migrated from her feet, up her legs as she glided across the room. He could wait a little longer, let his patience brew as much as he did to hers. It seemed only fair.

His eyes never left hers, watching as her fingers danced upon the backs of the furniture she passed with elegant grace. Years of fight training and marathons with criminals had done her well in speaking of the shape of her body. Short with curves that melted in the hips with legs as penetrable as steel, the heels adding to the definition of the muscles as they strut.

Dressed in a black, suffocating almost, fitted dress shirt with dark gray dress pants to match made him scream with young money against the veterans that surrounded him in their dusty suits. A diamond encrusted watch wrapped possessively around his wrist, sparkling when the light reflected against it just right.

“You certainly know how to keep a man waiting.”

He was right there. Sitting with his legs spread in invitation as a cigar hung loosely between his fingers. Waiting for her to accept with little consideration. He could wait a little longer.

Her gaze remained on him as her hand trailed up his thigh and chest, smirking at the way he twitched at her touch, until she reached the cigar, “I liked watching you squirm.”, her lips circled the filtered end, welcoming the warmth that filled her mouth before letting it fall against his face as she exhaled.

Arms enclosed around her frame before she could blink, seating her across his thighs with one hand under her butt while the other gripped at her thigh. A breathy gasp escaped her best efforts as he kneaded the plump smooth flesh, the muscles that built his massive frame tensing against her. She swore he moaned under his breath.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

Detective Phillips and you’re under arrest.

His eyes were so perceptive, watching her every move like a hawk watching its prey. They were laced with the sadness she had seen in the photo but he hid it well. Anybody would look past it, too shy from the intense charm that oozed off of him but Rose saw right past it. Anxiety lurked forward at the idea of having such similarities with someone like him.

Her fingers picked at the baby hairs along the back of his neck, taking the distractive thoughts away, “Whatever you want it to be honey.”

His thumb played with her lips, running the pad of it over the glossed bottom, “I’m not too sure if sweetheart is fitting. You seem like trouble to me.”

He had no idea what was in store for him.

Wet warmth dragged along the digit, storm clouds meeting the rising tide with a playful glint. She already had the charmer wrapped around her web, squirming in the sticky threads. It’s almost too easy.

“What’s life without a little trouble?”

Rose awoke to the phone ringing on the bedside table. Stupid place to put it, she’ll have to put it in the hallway to avoid these rude interruptions now that her sleep schedule shifted.

Only one person would dare to bother her at an early hour on a day off. Rose internally groaned at the possibilities of what he could want.

A hand fumbled from under the covers, lazily picking up the receiver, grumbling 'leave me alone' before hanging up and closing her eyes again. She didn't have enough energy nor patience to deal with anyone, especially him . She had barely slept after arriving home, her mind too focused on the man that occupied her shift.

"How much to take you out for a bit? Price doesn't matter."

Rose coiled in distaste internally, trying to keep the seductive blink steady, "Sorry honey, I'm not for sale."

His eyes watched her leave with burning want, remaining on her figure until he disappeared into the shadows once more.

Memories of goldilocks and his hands clouded her vision as sleep began to take over, her body melting into the mattress and navy comforter. That is until the phone rang with vengeance, seeming louder against the peaceful silence that was created moments prior.

"I said leave me alone, I'm busy."

"Drooling over your pillow and sleeping in till one in the afternoon doesn’t count as busy sunshine." Stark's sarcastic voice sang through her ears earning another unflattering groan from her.

"Hmm no thanks. It's my day off so I can sleep all I want."

Failed attempts to control his breathing huffed through the receiver with an irritating crackle, "If you don't come in then I'm giving your position away to Martin and we know just how much you love him."

Martin O’ Donaley. Just thinking of his name gave Rose a bad taste in her mouth. He was the head vice detective before she was promoted and he hasn't let go of the 'fact' that she 'stole' his position. He loved making accusations that she slept with the chief in order to get promoted instead of putting in real work like he supposedly did. Unfortunately, most believed him over the evidence she provided and she despised his existence for it.

"I hate you." She hung up before he could get another word in, slamming her head against the pillows a couple times before getting out of bed. It better be worth it.

Rose had arrived at the station per Chief Starks request an hour later. She made sure to take her sweet time, taking an additional five minutes to present herself in orderly fashion and even brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the staff lounge before making her way up to his office. Much to her surprise, he wasn't the slightest bit annoyed with her. In fact, he was thrilled to see her disapproving glare.

"Sunshine! Glad to see you alive and well." He clapped, beaming down at her. The fakest she’s seen him since the award ceremony last year.

Rose gave him a deadpan stare as she sat in one of his chairs, resting her heels on the desk with a thud. But the scuff that appeared didn’t falter the cheshire grin. It deeply concerned her with suspicion, "You aren't telling me something."

The façade dropped instantly, the normal grim stare returning to her relief, "Yeah, I kind of needed an excuse to get you out of your apartment so my team could get to work."

The leather chair squeaked in protest as the weight became unbalanced, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as she leaned forward, "What did you do?"

A faint sigh left him as he relaxed in his chair, rubbing at his jaw tenderly, his eyes barely meeting hers, "I have a team rearranging your apartment as we speak. Before you jump over this desk and strangle me, let me finish first." He paused, waiting for her to settle back in the chair again, "The minute you make any form of contact with Barnes, he'll have already sent Wilson there, probably bug the place while he's at it. I needed to make sure it matched your cover and that you were safe against them. Can't lose my best detective now can I?"

Rose tried to contain her annoyance, it was procedure for the case at hand and was for her own protection. A small sacrifice of privacy for the better. The anger she had felt building had now diminished. She knew the chief cared regardless of her attitude towards him at times and she appreciated it. She just would never admit it out loud. She'd never live it down until she was ten feet under.

She gave him a genuine smile, "You'd certainly be lost without me."

The little moment they had passed as quick as it came as he placed a stack of photos on the desk, "As you can see, Rogers has been spotted out and about-”

Rose interrupted, grabbing at the photos with little interest, “Yes I’ve already met prince charming.”

Stark was speechless, debating if his ears had tricked him again, “I’m sorry?”

She shrugged, throwing the stack back on the center desk, “He was at the club last night. Romanoff confirmed him before I approached.” Stark raised his brows and waved his hand pressing her to continue, “Well for one, I think he’s an ass man with the way he-”

His face revolted and shook his head frantically, his face reddening by two shades, “And you didn’t think to call me? Wilson could’ve been there while you slept!”

“Didn’t think it’d be enough to bring it up, not yet at least. You know me chief, I like a decent amount of evidence before I present it to you. Helps build a solid case, basic logic.”

“Don’t be a smartass Phillips, this could ruin or make the whole case." A spark of realization struck him, "You need to pursue this until Barnes gets involved. Honestly, fuck both of them for what it’s worth, kill two birds with one stone if that’s what it takes.” The beaming smile returned to her dismay, “Barnes is still M.I.A for now so your next task is to lock onto Rogers until the hermit comes out. Maybe this scandal will draw his attention. He’s been spotted at the diner near the club during the early afternoon before the lunch rush. Keep me updated this time, got it? Good, now get out. I have the senator coming for a meeting at any moment.”

Rose remained silent through his blabbering, awaiting his finish before responding with a low salute before standing, “Aye yi Chief.”

Now how did she want to approach this task? Her brain was going a mile a minute as she descended to the main floor, thinking of the thousands of scenarios that could occur if she had a run in with Rogers in appropriate attire. Should she act normal? Flirty? No, that’d be too much of a giveaway. Surely he’d recognize her as the woman of mystery from the night before if she acted in the same manner. A frustrated growl shook her lips. This was completely out of her league, having little pushing towards no experience in this undercover scenario before. She was used to acting as both buyer and dealer, busting out the big guns when the time was appropriate before the big arrest, case closed. She never imagined a cover quite like this, it was becoming more and more tedious as it went on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the one person she truly wished to strangle till they stopped breathing. Dramatic? Yes. Completely the truth though? Yes.

“So how does it feel going from top detective to being some cheap whore?” Rose halted abruptly, her heels skidding against the epoxy flooring.

Strike 1.

“Excuse me, did you say something fat ass? Oh sorry, I almost forgot that wasn’t your name, Martin .” Her foot was tapping irritably, jaw tensed to the point of locking.

Martin O’ Donaley was a heavy set grease ball. Stout as a ball of oil soaked twine, with an attitude as revolting as hot dog shit melting on the pavement. A real thorn in everyone’s side if they weren’t so far up his ass, too frightened to get the same treatment as her.

She watched as he took a daring step towards her, a cocky grin lifted nearly up to his eyeballs, “You heard me clear as day baby.”

Strike 2. Will he knock it out of the park or will he go for that final strike? Let’s see folks.

Eyes narrowed to pin points on his reaching hands, “I bet you like all the attention you get. A real dirty girl you are to let a stranger do those things to you all for the sake of a case. Lucky guys.” Sweaty fingers trailed along her hip, a nasty stain left in their trail, “Maybe you wouldn't mind if I took a spin too?”

Strike 3, And he’s out folks!

A screeching pitch filled her ears as emotions charged into dangerous territory, the laughter of their coworkers fueling the fiery rage. He wanted a show? She’ll give it to him.

A hand ran down his chest in light swirling motions, slow blinking lashes catching on bloodshot whites as the hand locked on the target's belt loop. The laughter had faded seeing the first act had begun, their interests peaking at what might come next, “You really want my attention?”

Nicotine stained teeth pinched over his bottom lip, nodding eagerly, “Oh yeah baby, all of it.”

Desperate bastard.

Dirt infested nails dug into the dip of her hips, burrowing through her blouse to the point she feared he’d break holes in the fabric. He panted like a dog in heat, blinded by his rising desire, he couldn’t see what was coming until the searing pain enveloped his lower body.

"You fucking bitch!", Rose couldn’t help but smirk at the pained expression that grew on his sweat dripped face.

Rose had dug her knee deep into his groin with as much force as she could muster, fisted knuckles landing on the already crooked nose when his knees crashed on the floor. Satisfied with the deafening crack and blood splatter that followed after.

Blood dripped in small pools onto her swelling fist as she pulled him up enough to focus on her, “There’s a reason you lost your position. Do you know why? Because I am better than you. Learn to fucking respect that.”

With a final shove, she stepped away from the shriveled pig, not before wiping some of the sticky substance from her hands on his shirt, a memory for what happened that day. The forming crowd hurried to his aid with nurturing coos and disapproving stares directed at her. The incident would likely cause a stir amongst the department if not the whole bureau, dampening her reputation further.

A field day full of scolding and demands of immediate termination were preparing to send off to Stark, giving him another desire to get rid of her. Verbal punishments would be the likely verdict, emptily threatening to pull her off the case he had no one else trustworthy enough to complete. Worst case scenario would be a trip to the morgue to have a playdate with the coroner, Dr. Banner, a punishment worse than being taken off the case. It wasn’t the aspect of death that bothered her. It was how the body remained partially alive after the soul had left it. Muscles still twitched, sometimes raising the body into a haunting position that scared the life out of whoever had the displeasure to come by it. It’s lifeless eyes staring through your soul behind its half opened lids. Then, as if nothing had happened, it was back to resting on the metal stretcher. It unsettled her beyond comparison. All in all, in the end, a slap on the wrist for the incident and on her way she’d be.

Sunlight exposed the purple splotches that had already begun to form, swelling into small pebble sized welts along the knuckles of her right hand. The remaining blood had dried in a brown crust that made her skin itch with irritated bumps, the splatters that made their way on her blouse stained into the fabric. Visiting the diner was out of the question today, replaced with hours of scrubbing both skin and cotton before seducing her way through another shift in hopes of spotting one of the targets.

A frustrated sigh let her lips as she scratched at another scab of dried blood, revealing sore skin beneath. Stares of disgust and concern of passing civilians irked her more into a foul mood, worsening when she mindlessly walked into the person ahead of her, worsening the migraine that pulsed through her temples.

“Hey watch I- Whoa, are you alright?”

What a coincidence.

Steve Rogers was standing in front of her clear as day, face laced with concern as he took in her disheveled appearance. An odd sight compared to the night prior.

His stature had grown more intimidating with his full standing height, shadowing over her with ease, his muscular frame unhumanly broad. The cocky smirk was replaced with a worried frown, eyebrows pinched in wait for a response.

The question of how to act arose again.

“Oh this?” She glanced at her hand with an uncomfortable chuckle as she waved it around clumsily.

Awkward it was.

“This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” She continued, seeing his questioning expression, “Let’s just say I deal with a lot of overly confident men, who underestimate me far too often and need a reminder of what respect is.”

He shook his head, chuckling at her calm composure, “Well I can’t just leave you here walking into people with bloody knuckles, so how about we go over to Albert’s diner and get some ice on that? Maybe even a milkshake. My treat.”

Smooth, she’d give him that at least. Maybe even say he was pleasing to her eye, allowing some genuine attraction to peek through. She wanted to say no, returning on her way to clean up the mess that she was until her shift later, but this was her opportunity at first contact in a normal setting, fully dressed and closer to her comfortable element. This was an advantage she couldn’t pass up on.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter 3

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kittenofdoomage · 2 years

Text

The Hunk In Apartment Twenty-Two

Summary: Your new neighbor is mysterious, rarely seen, quiet (mostly), and hot as all hell. A bad day gives you the chance to get to know him better, but will the truth make you run or make him even more alluring?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word Count: 6456

Warnings: Nightmares from Hydra, fluff, smidge of angst, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, sex w/o a condom

AO3 Link (the majority of my work is on AO3)

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR REDISTRIBUTE MY WORK IN ANY FORM ON ANY SITE. 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT (MINORS DNI)

The apartment next door had been empty for nearly a year since Mr. Kellen had gone to a retirement home the spring before, so when you stepped out one Monday morning to go to work, you were surprised to see the door open. Unable to resist being nosey, you glanced inside at the same open plan design as your own home, the beige walls and bare floors almost too bright with the morning sunlight coming through the undressed windows.

“Uh, hi.”

A voice made you jump and the man in front of you almost smiled as you stepped back, a little struck by the handsome face staring at you. He was holding a box in his arms, and had a duffel slung over his shoulder, making it somewhat clear that he was your new neighbor.

“Hi,” you squeaked back, realizing the silence was dragging on. “Moving in?”

This time he smiled, awkwardly and a little lopsided. “Yeah.”

“Well, uh,” your cheeks filled with heat, “welcome to the building. Everyone’s really friendly here. I’m, um, next door?” You pointed limply at your own door and his eyes slid to follow for only a second before they were back on you, the intensity behind them almost as jarring as the sadness. “Y/N,” you offered, holding out a hand. He didn’t move, unable to, so you dropped the hand, grinning sheepishly. “I gotta get to work. It was nice meeting you.”

His only response was a slight nod but you were too busy trying to escape your own embarrassment to pay much attention, sliding around him towards the stairs. When you reached the bottom, your heart was pounding, and you swiped your face with your hand, pushing out the front door and onto the street.

The encounter lingered in the back of your mind all day, inspiring several internal debates on what to say if you saw him again when you returned home. In the end, you had no way to re-approach without making more of a fool of yourself but as luck had it, the mysterious hunk was nowhere to be seen and the door to apartment twenty-two was shut.

He turned out to be a fairly quiet neighbor, though you hadn’t been sure what to expect. You’d lived next door to Mr. Kellen for six years, and in all that time you’d only ever heard the occasional squawk from his cockatoo, Betty, or the old man yelling at his television during Thanksgiving football. Most of the time you were out during the day and during the evening, you tended not to hear anything over whatever you were watching or listening to. Four days passed without a single sound or sight of the new guy, and you were beginning to wonder if he was even living there.

The fifth night was when you heard the first peep from him. You’d given up on late night television and found nothing else to watch online, so you headed to bed with your kindle and some tea, snuggling down in your extra-thick comforter. At midnight, you heard a low moan, and for a moment, you thought you were imagining things, until you heard it again.

Putting the kindle down, you listened, hearing the moan get progressively louder. It didn’t sound like a sexy kind of noise, more like someone was being hurt, and when it suddenly ended in a loud yell, you felt your heart start to beat harder.

For a long while, you remained quiet and unmoving, unsure what to do, if anything. There wasn’t another sound but you still didn’t move, eventually drifting off to sleep.

It didn’t happen every night but it was frequent enough that you had questions. The man from number twenty-two didn’t show his face, and the only sign you knew he was there was the disappearing mail from the mat outside his door and the occasional yells in the middle of the night.

Another month passed, and finally, you saw him again. You had a week off from work, and intended on enjoying the warming spring weather from your tiny balcony, and on your first day of vacation, you headed out to the store for all the bad-yet-awesome snacks. With your goodies in hand, you prepared to walk home, and at the exit to the parking lot, you came face-to-face with your enigmatic neighbor.

“Oh,” you gasped, noticing the grocery bag in his arms, fruit poking out of the top to indicate his plans for the day were healthier than yours. For a second, you were thrown by the thick gloves that covered his hands, unusual attire for the warm late April weather. “Hi, again.”

He smiled, gesturing for you to go first out of the door. “Hello,” he replied smoothly.

“I was starting to think I imagined you,” you joked nervously and he chuckled, dropping his chin as he followed you along the sidewalk, cradling the paper bag against his chest. “Uh, how are you finding the apartment?”

“It’s nice.”

It didn’t seem he was one to talk much. You smiled tightly, walking slowly with him by your side, keeping exactly the same pace. “I guess we may as well walk back together? Unless you’re, uh, not going home?”

“I am.”

Well, he’s frustrating, you thought, nodding lightly. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”

“Bucky.”

“Have you lived in New York before?”

He smiled again and you felt an odd warmth in your chest as he fixed those melancholy eyes on you. “A long time ago.”

Four blocks of short answers was going to take forever. You focused on the sidewalk ahead, racking your brain for something to say before the silence killed you. “So, uh, what do you do for a living?”

The question seemed to throw him, a mild look of panic developing quickly on his face. “I’m between jobs.” He smiled awkwardly, meeting your gaze for a split second before he looked away again. “What about you?”

“Boring customer service,” you laughed. “It’s all over the phone so it’s not so bad.” Three blocks to go. “I’ve got a few days off actually. Gonna read some of the books I’ve got piling up.” He nodded, though you got the feeling he wasn’t really interested, which made your stomach churn uncomfortably. “Do you read, uh, books?”

What else is he gonna read? Cereal boxes?

“Yeah,” he muttered, clearly amused. “Got any recommendations?”

You blanked, stuttering over an answer. “Well, I just finished re-reading Harry Potter.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Tolkien is probably a lame recommendation, right?”

His smile grew, showing a little more of his teeth, and his cheeks dimpled around the stretch of his mouth. “I’ve read those.”

“So you like adventure stories,” you deduced and he laughed under his breath, nodding as you both turned onto your street.

“I like stories where the bad guys lose,” he replied, sobering a little.

You were already doing a mental inventory of your bookshelves. “Huh, well, I’ve got a few you might enjoy. I mean, you’ve probably read stuff like The Three Musketeers and Treasure Island. They make everyone read that in high school.” Bucky nodded, shifting his groceries in his hold. The gloves caught your eye again and a question about them bubbled up but you forced it back down, unwilling to shatter the new rapport you had with him. “But there are loads of more recent ones that were popular. Ready Player One is pretty good, and you know, anything by Neil Gaman. How do you feel about graphic novels?”

A frown crossed his face as you hit the second block from home. “You mean, like comics?”

Laughing, you shook your head. “Kinda. A little more adult.”

The penultimate block required crossing at the intersection, and you were so busy thinking about books to recommend that you nearly stepped right off the curb into traffic. A horn blasted loudly, and you found yourself in Bucky’s grip, almost dangling as you blinked in surprise and sudden terror.

“Careful, doll,” he murmured, releasing you slowly and you nodded, hugging your groceries to your chest. “You okay?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” you breathed, caught up in his concerned gaze. “Sorry, I must seem like a total idiot.”

He smiled. “Light’s red now.”

After your near brush with death, you felt more than a little shaken, and the journey continued in silence until you reached the front door of your building. Bucky went ahead and opened up, holding the door for you, and you sheepishly smiled at him as you passed, waiting for him to catch up again. He followed you up the stairs to your shared floor, reaching his door first where you both stopped.

“This is me,” he mumbled, clinging to the grocery bag with one hand, holding his keys in the other. “Thanks for the company.”

“You’re welcome,” you rushed out, taking a shaky step backwards. “Listen, if you ever need anything…” You paused, unsure where you were going. “Sugar. Coffee. You know.”

He smiled with his teeth again, and the expression reached his eyes, the crows feet each corner becoming more pronounced. “Sure thing,” he replied softly. “Thanks. Again.”

You nodded awkwardly, then stepped back and turned, hurrying away to your door. When you reached it, you fumbled for your keys, glancing back on a chance - he was still there, key in the door but unmoving, watching you with a strange half-smile. Heat flooded your face and it felt like you couldn’t get the key in properly, only managing as Bucky’s door shut quietly and relieved you of your audience.

Once inside, you almost collapsed. For such a simple and short encounter, it had left you breathless and worked up, and you couldn’t figure out why. Sure, you’d been flustered around attractive men before but Bucky wasn’t just attractive, he was drop-dead-panty-ruining gorgeous and you were positive you’d just made an absolute fool of yourself.

Your phone beeped in your pocket, so you headed for the kitchen, unloading your groceries before checking the message. A single notification glared at you from your best friend and the heat in your face got a little worse as you opened it.

Did I just see you walking down Main with a male model or am I imagining shit again?

Laughing, you typed out your answer, sending it back within seconds.

That’s the guy who just moved in. We ran into each other at the grocery store.

You weren’t sure if she’d remember your new neighbor after you’d mentioned him in passing shortly after the first encounter.

That’s him?! 👀 Pls tell me you got his name this time

Dropping yourself onto the couch, you tapped to start a reply but before you could, Kate’s name and face appeared on your screen, video calling you. You answered, smirking as she glared at you through the camera.

“Bucky,” you informed her. “His name is Bucky.”

“Girl, if I was living next door to that, I woulda spontaneously combusted by now,” Kate announced, prompting you to laugh again, the phone shaking in your hand. “So you walked four blocks with him and only got his name?”

“He’s not very talkative. I think he likes books but that mighta just been me talking my ass off,” you groaned, pressing your hand against your face as Kate laughed. “Seriously, I think I probably qualify as that weird chick next door.”

“You gotta try and see him again.”

“What, so I can qualify as the weird stalker chick next door instead?”

“I dunno,” Kate chuckled, glancing away from the screen. “Maybe try a housewarming gift or something. I gotta go, Meryl’s coming and I don’t wanna get written up. Call me later.”

The screen went blank before you could answer and you stared at the phone, chewing the inside of your cheek as you thought about what she’d said. “A housewarming gift,” you mumbled, lifting your gaze to the books lining your shelves and piled on the floor, some of which had become permanent residents of the carpet.

A few hours later, and you’d narrowed down a small pile of fantasy adventure books, specifically ones where the good guys win. You weren’t sure why that tidbit of information had stuck with you but then again, you’d been replaying the whole encounter in your head over and over since it happened, analyzing every cringey thing you’d said or done.

Almost getting hit by a car was probably the most embarrassing part.

It was dark by the time you slipped out of your apartment and placed the pile of books at Bucky’s door with a note on top saying “Welcome to the neighborhood” in your neatest handwriting and nicest pen. For a second, you debated knocking, but upon hearing some shuffling around behind the door, you panicked and bolted right back to the safety of your apartment.

It was hard to sleep that night. There wasn’t any sound beyond the usual traffic and noises of the city but you couldn’t stop thinking about the books and whether it was a stupid idea. He was probably only being a gentleman when he spoke with you, when he walked back with you - there was every chance you’d definitely just earned the title of “weird stalker neighbor chick”.

You didn’t see Bucky the next day, nor the day after that. Occasionally, you heard music from the other side of your bedroom wall, what sounded like older tunes, things that your grandparents probably would have listened to, but nothing you could place, and nothing that you would have thought a guy Bucky’s age would listen to. Except you didn’t know anything about him, so making assumptions was completely pointless.

At least the pile of books had disappeared.

Your week off ended too soon and it was back to the grind. Every day when you left or when you returned, you hoped for a glimpse of him but all you saw was his post on the mat in the morning and it was usually gone by the afternoon. Sometimes he’d have parcels delivered but you never saw the man himself retrieve them.

Kate suggested stealing a letter one morning and returning it to him under the guise of misdelivery. You hadn’t felt comfortable with the idea in the slightest, though you thought about it for about ten minutes one Monday when you’d heard more of the strange yelling in the night. No one ever seemed to visit him and he never seemed to go anywhere; it made you worry, despite knowing nothing about him.

Spring turned to summer quickly and one ridiculously humid August night, you were lounging in front of a large fan with just a crop top and some shorts on, trying to focus on a book. A knock at the door made you jump and you peeled yourself from the chair, slouching towards the door.

You were surprised to see Bucky on the other side.

“Hi,” he said sheepishly, giving you a little wave.

“Uh, hi?” you replied, suddenly self-conscious and tugged the door a little more closed to cover yourself.

“Listen, I, um, wanted to apologize?” he stammered out. You frowned, uncertain what he was apologizing for. “I’ve not been very… neighborly, and I shoulda said thank you for the books - they were great, by the way, I really appreciated them.”

You blinked, mouth hung half-open, completely bewildered by his appearance and apology.

“So I came over to say thank you and also…” His cheeks were darkening and he scratched at his jaw with a nervous chuckle. “Do you have the same AC in there as I do? Because I’ve been trying to work it out and -”

“Oh!” You gasped, remembering Mr. Kellen’s frequent issues with the AC. “Yeah, uh, the button in the pantry, you have to flick it a couple times and it’ll buzz when it connects properly. It’s a pain but it does work. Eventually.”

Bucky smiled, showing his teeth, and something in your belly clenched unexpectedly. “Thanks. Again.” He glanced around, scratching the back of his head, and you noticed the way he held his left arm behind his back - why was he wearing a long-sleeved shirt when it was a thousand degrees outside. “Um, I wanted to ask, if maybe, uh, you’d like to grab a drink some time?”

You stared at him. “A drink?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, unable to meet your gaze now, visibly out of his comfort zone. The way he was stammering and shifting on his feet was reminiscent of a nervous guy who’d once asked you to the prom and it was incredibly adorable. How did a man this hot get so anxious around women? “Beer. Coffee. Just, a, uh, a drink.”

“Sure,” you replied slowly, trying to appear casual. “That sounds great.”

He nodded, not appearing any more relieved by your answer. “Great, great,” he mumbled, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door. “I better -”

You smiled, watching him back up with a degree of amusement. “Yeah, sure. See you later, Bucky.”

It was silly to get so worked up over an offer of a drink that was probably made out of gratitude but you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy as you texted Kate to tell her what happened. The subject made it into the girls’ group text and your evening disappeared into threads of possibilities.

The heatwave broke the next day, with a huge storm starting around lunchtime. You hadn’t dressed for the weather so rushing from work to home without getting wet wasn’t happening - you were drenched by the time you reached the building and miserable to boot. Climbing the steps, you left a trail of water on the wooden floor all the way to your front door.

You fumbled for your keys, grumbling to yourself, briefly noticing Bucky’s mail still on the doormat. As you twisted the key in the lock, it stopped unexpectedly and as you tugged it, the entire thing snapped, leaving half the key embedded in the lock. You gaped in horror, rubbing your finger over the jammed mechanism, staring at the broken key with no clue what to do next.

Google provided the answer and you quickly found the number of a locksmith who could help out. Unfortunately, the guy wasn’t available for another four hours and with no children or pets locked inside, it wasn’t classified as an emergency. With an irritated groan, you banged your forehead against the door, hard enough that it actually hurt, which only made your frustration grow.

Mom would be at work, Kate too, and they weren’t the sort of jobs you could just go hang out at. For a moment, you considered knocking on Bucky’s door but you dismissed that idea fairly quickly simply down to the fact that you weren’t brave enough to do it.

There was a diner across the street. You’d have to go and wait there until the locksmith could fix the problem. Which meant going out in the rain again but it beat hanging around in the hallway for hours. At least the diner would provide an option for dinner.

Stepping back out into the rain made you feel twice as cold as you had before and you rushed to get down the steps to the sidewalk. Your sneakers leaked as you trudged across the water-logged concrete, unable to determine where one puddle ended and another began and you weren’t entirely sure of your footing. As you brought your right foot down to step off the curb, the world seemed to fall away beneath you - you screamed, certain of impending doom.

Something caught you around the middle, hauling you back to safety before you could drown in the street. You flailed, your brain instantly deciding you were being attacked, and when the assailant let you go, you turned, not quite escaping his hold. Bucky’s earnest gaze stared back at you, and you exhaled in relief, wiping rain water out of your face.

“You really aren’t that great with sidewalks,” he quipped, smirking in amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting to find a pothole underneath the puddle,” you grunted, looking up as the rain came to a sudden stop, finding it was an umbrella blocking it, firmly clenched in Bucky’s hand. “Lucky me.”

“Rough day?”

“Something like that,” you sighed, holding out your keys and the broken brass one to your apartment. “They said four hours for a locksmith. I was gonna go wait in the diner -”

He frowned, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Why don’t you come and wait in my place?” he asked.

“I don’t wanna be a bother,” you rushed out, suddenly mortified at the thought of being alone with him.

“You’re soaking wet,” Bucky insisted, taking your elbow and jerking his head back toward the building. “You’ll catch a cold, I’ve got some sweats and stuff you can borrow.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, even as your feet moved along the sidewalk with him. He only grinned and nodded, leading you up the steps, keeping the umbrella over you both until you were inside when he released you to collapse it and then headed up the stairs. You followed, chewing your lip nervously, hovering behind him as he opened his apartment door.

“I guess you know where the bathroom is,” he chuckled. “All these units seem pretty standard.”

You smiled as his intense gaze lingered on you for a few seconds, shivering as the cold wet of your clothes sank into your skin. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“There’s a couple towels in there. I’ll grab you something to wear.”

“Thanks.”

With one last smile, he turned away, disappearing down the hall to the bedroom. You headed for the bathroom, passing the kitchen and lounge, both of which were sparsely decorated with the bare minimum in furniture. It seemed a little odd, since he’d been living there for four months, most people would have accumulated at least a few things by now.

You shrugged, slipping into the bathroom just as Bucky came back with a handful of clothing. “They might be a little on the big side…”

“That’s okay,” you murmured, taking them gratefully. He paused in the doorway, mouth half-open as if he was going to say something and you raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“I’ll let you, uh -” He cleared his throat and backed out, closing the door behind him.

Peeling your pants off your legs was a chore and you hung your wet things over the towel rack, drying off with one of the plain white towels stacked by the sink. The bathroom was mostly empty - the shower shelf had one brand of shampoo, conditioner, and soap, all unscented and plain, and the cabinet was bare of anything except a can of shaving cream and a razor. His toothbrush was balanced on the sink with a brand of toothpaste you didn’t recognize. It was more like a hotel bathroom than one that someone used on a daily basis.

The clothes he’d given you were a little on the large side, a large gray t-shirt that covered you to your mid-thigh that seemed like it would be huge on him too. The sweats were easily secured by the pull cord around the middle, and they felt soft like they were brand new.

Realizing you were taking too long, you finished up quickly and grabbed your purse, grimacing at the wet leather. As you exited the bathroom, you saw Bucky in the kitchen with two beers, one of which he held up as you walked in.

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, slipping onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, noting that he was still wearing his gloves, though he’d taken off his jacket. It was definitely an odd habit - maybe he had poor circulation? “Guess we can say we had that drink now.”

Bucky grinned. “Well, if you’re gonna be waiting a while for this locksmith guy, we could order take-out?”

You picked up the beer and sipped at it, nodding enthusiastically. Now you weren’t soaking wet, your mood had significantly improved and you weren’t feeling quite so apprehensive about being alone with the handsome neighbor. “There’s a great burger place down the street,” you suggested. “I think they’ve got an online menu.” He nodded, drinking his own beer, and your eyes lingered on his gloved hand, traveling the length of the bottle to where it touched his lips. Your mouth grew a little dry, so you took another swig, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Um…”

“The gloves,” he murmured, a tiny wistful smile on his face as he put the beer down.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “It’s just a little odd, and the long-sleeved shirts when it’s hotter than hell… poor circulation?”

Bucky laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You know, my therapist tells me I gotta make friends, I gotta open up to people…”

You blinked, surprised by the turn of conversation. “Your therapist?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s a long story,” he mumbled. “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you the whole thing, but… people look at you different, y’know?”

Tilting your head, you took a breath, trying not to panic or envision the worst possible things. Your mind was jumping right to “fresh out of prison” or something akin to that, but the look in his eyes told you that he’d experienced things you couldn’t possibly imagine. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Bucky,” you said slowly. “But I do wanna be your friend.”

His eyes almost sparkled when he looked at you again. “Just a friend?”

Despite the gravity of the conversation, you smiled. “Anything more than that, and you’ll have to take the gloves off,” you teased.

He didn’t respond immediately, holding your gaze for a second. Then, he looked down, tugging the gloves off, right hand first, revealing a perfectly normal hand, and then the left, revealing a mechanical hand that looked far more sophisticated than any prosthetic you had ever seen.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered in shock. His smile was a little lopsided as he held out his hand and placed it flat on the tabletop. “Is it - can you -”

“It feels just like a normal hand,” he explained. “It’s, uh, the whole arm, actually.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you one of those superheroes?” you asked, a little dumbly, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m no hero,” he replied. “Knew some of them, though.”

“So were you in the army or something?”

“Or something.”

It was obvious he was beginning to shift out of comfortable conversation, so you smiled, relaxing your shoulders as you picked up your beer again. “I mean, it’s pretty cool. Very unique.” You had a thousand questions now but you knew pressing him would likely make him withdraw so you changed the conversation. “Are you more a burger and fries guy or are you a salad man?”

Bucky grinned genuinely, grabbing his drink with a laid back stretch, settling onto the stool opposite you. “I don’t worry so much about carbs,” he laughed.

Inside his own home, his own space, however Spartan it was, Bucky was a different guy. He still oozed the same charm but he was far more talkative, even if he was slightly cagey on some of the details of his life. There were a few moments of melancholy when he spoke about his friends, or specifically, one friend, a guy named Steve, and though it wasn’t said outright, the past tense told you that Steve was no longer part of his life. Bucky’s charm seemed to mask one large part of his life.

He was lonely.

By nine, you were starting to worry about the locksmith, and one call later, you were dismayed that he wouldn’t be able to make it until seven the next morning. You had instantly started looking into a hotel when Bucky spoke up, stunning you with a proposition.

“You can stay here.”

“What? I couldn’t -”

He chuckled. “You can have the bed. It’s no big deal, honestly.”

“Bucky, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch -”

“I sleep on the floor anyway,” he mumbled, shrugging lightly. “Army habit… beds are too soft.”

It was hard to keep the sympathy off of your face, so you smiled gratefully instead. “You’re really sweet, thank you.”

“Hey,” he threw one arm out. “You bought dinner.”

The bedroom was just as empty of personal effects as the rest of the apartment, though it was mostly dominated by a huge and comfortable-looking bed that was perfectly made. You walked in after Bucky opened the door, sitting on the edge and smiling back at him.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he whispered. “Goodnight.”

He moved to shut the door, but you threw an arm out to stop him. “Uh, I prefer sleeping with the door open, if that’s okay?”

“Sure thing.”

For a moment, your eyes locked on his, and your stomach churned, a sudden image of him returning, pushing you back, kissing you - you blinked, and smiled again, giving him a little wave. “Goodnight.” He nodded once and disappeared out of sight, presumably to the living room.

You sighed, crawling up the bed and under the covers, curling up and staring at the wall. It took a while to drift off, and when you did, your dreams were extremely erotic, leaving you tangled in the sheets.

At three am, you woke at the sound of a low moan. You opened your eyes sluggishly, reaching for the nightstand where your phone would normally be, taking a few seconds to realize it was not your bed or your apartment. Sitting up, you listened, hearing another moan almost immediately.

Curiosity dragged your feet over the side of the bed, and you padded towards the living room as Bucky’s moans became cries, low whimpers begging someone to “please, stop” and your heart twisted in your chest with each one. Stepping into the living room, you spotted him on the floor, the blanket loosely held in his metal hand, sweat coating him from head to toe. He thrashed for a second, fighting some invisible memory, then went still, calling out for Steve.

You dropped to your knees beside him just as he sat bolt upright, bending one knee as he woke. Unfocused eyes met yours for a few seconds until he was alert properly, panic taking over his expression.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

He shook his head but you felt it was more a case of getting rid of the last few remnants of his nightmare than giving you an answer. When he focused on you again, his face was filled with concern. “Did I wake you?”

Smiling softly, you shifted so you were sitting down. “It’s okay,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, scrubbing his bionic hand over his face. You watched in fascination, still a little amazed at the advanced technology and still curious how he got it. “I, uh, I really hoped it wouldn’t happen tonight.”

“I’ve heard you before,” you confessed, feeling a little guilty at the horrified look on his face. “The walls aren’t that thick. Sometimes when I’m up late, I can hear you.”

He huffed, hanging his head. “God, I’m sorry.”

“Bucky.” You reached out, touching his bare shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, you can’t help having nightmares.” His head lifted, those intense eyes boring into yours, making your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t begin to imagine anything you’ve seen. But you shouldn’t blame yourself for something you can’t control.”

There was a moment of silence, and his eyes filled with tears before he dropped his head again, wiping at his face. You gave him time to gather himself, and when he looked at you again, he seemed a little more composed.

“You know, I was terrified of this,” he said, voice a low rumble as he shifted a little closer. “Getting close to anyone… it’s never ended well. And the longer I went avoiding people, the harder it got to connect with them.” He reached up with his hand, and you jumped a little in surprise when it was almost warm to the touch, fingers grazing against your jaw. “Then I saw you.”

“What’s so special about me?” you asked curiously, keeping your voice quiet.

He smiled. “When I’m near you, I want to be near you. All the time. You’re everything I never thought I’d know.”

You could feel heat in your cheeks as he leaned in, and when his lips brushed against yours, you froze, unsure how to react. Your brain went onto autopilot as his hand cupped your face, and you melted into the kiss, responding just as eagerly. When he pulled you closer, you went willingly, letting him tug you onto the thin blanket that had been serving as his bed.

There was a second, and only that, of hesitation, a brief “you barely know him” moment before you threw caution to the wind, letting Bucky pull you ever closer until you were grinding against him. He seemed just as hungry for you as you were for him, growling into your mouth when your hands slid up over his bare chest. He was already hard, the evidence pressed into your thigh through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Is this okay?” he panted, breaking away for only a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, nuzzling at his cheek as his hand snaked inside your borrowed sweats, easily finding your center. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

He lunged, burying his face in your throat as he sank two fingers inside you, working them back and forth as you rocked onto his hand. You threw your head back, crying out when he nipped at your throat, almost snarling as he rutted against your thigh. Groping blindly, you found the waistband of his boxers, slipping your fingers underneath them to touch him as much as you could, limited by the way he had you pinned to the floor. Bucky moaned when your fingers stroked over his swollen length, lifting his head to kiss you again.

“Are we going too fast?” he asked.

You shook your head, finally getting your hand wrapped around his cock. “Not fast enough.”

Grinning, he crushed his lips against yours, withdrawing his hand only to push the sweats down. You kicked them off, pulling your hand away to remove the t-shirt, and Bucky took the opportunity to shed his boxers. As he went to kiss you again, he paused, grimacing lightly.

“What?”

“Condoms,” he grunted.

You smiled. “I’m on birth control. And I haven’t slept with anyone for months. So please don’t decide we aren’t doing this because I am so ready to fuck you right now -”

Bucky laughed, sweeping in to kiss you again, sliding one arm underneath you to pull you closer until he was between your thighs, pinning you to the floor with his hips. “Last chance,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you whined, pulling him down into a bruising kiss, sliding one hand between your bodies to grasp his cock, guiding him inside. Both of you groaned at the connection, and you found your right leg hoisted up, allowing him to press even deeper. You whimpered, lifting your chin as Bucky held steady, panting against your neck, throbbing inside you.

“You feel so good,” he mumbled, rocking his hips gently, letting you feel the thickness of him splitting you open. You gasped in reply, clutching at his shoulders, barely noticing when skin became metal, and when Bucky picked up the pace, you cried out, digging your nails in. He tightened his hold around you, lifting up to look down at you as he drove into you over and over again.

As he fucked you harder, you got louder, until he silenced you with a hard kiss. You arched underneath him when you started to cum and he slid one arm underneath your back, holding you there as you shuddered, clenching tightly around him, almost limp in his hold. He chuckled, slowing to a near stop, slowly lowering you back down to the floor.

“Wow,” you groaned. “God, that was…”

“You make it sound like we’re done,” he mumbled, withdrawing and sliding down your body, stopping when he was on his elbows between your thighs. You barely managed a squeak before he buried his face in your pussy, stroking his tongue over your slick hole up to where your clit was throbbing. Reaching down, you slid your fingers through his short hair, moaning wantonly when he sucked hard at the bundle of nerves.

“Oh!” You almost choked on air, tugging at his hair. “Oh, god, stop -”

He froze, lifting his head only a fraction. “You okay, doll?”

Smiling languidly, you looked down at him. “Too okay. Get back up here.”

Bucky grinned, pushing up on fists to crawl back up, meeting you in a brief kiss. “Like this?” he asked breathlessly, grinding his cock against your bare slit. “Or…”

“Like this is fine,” you giggled, kissing him again. This time when he sank in, you were more prepared for the stretch, humming against his mouth as he immediately started to thrust. He didn’t pull away, crushing every part of your bodies together where he could, the slick of his skin against yours exhilarating as the spark in your belly began to burn brighter once more. Chasing his own high, Bucky easily dragged you along for the ride, fucking you hard enough that the blanket started to bunch underneath you.

Finally, he slammed in deep, holding himself there as he started to cum, and you moaned at the warmth spilling out of you. Your whole body throbbed with him, and you sighed happily when he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, his warm breath making the skin it hit feel wetter.

“Damn,” you laughed in a pant, lifting one hand to push sweaty hair out of your eyes. “I mean, I didn’t see this happening…”

Bucky was smirking as he pulled away, covering his modesty with his hands as he handed you his discarded sheet. “I didn’t plan this,” he chuckled, “but I can’t say I hate the way it turned out.” He snagged his boxers, pulling them on quickly before returning to the floor beside you. “You’re gonna get uncomfortable sleeping down here.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed. “No, probably not. But I don’t really wanna sleep in bed alone after, well, that.”

“Maybe it’ll be more comfortable with another person,” he suggested, catching your chin with one finger, tilting it up so he could kiss you softly. “Maybe we can make that happen again.”

You giggled, pressing one hand against his bare chest. “I definitely think it’s worth a try.”

If you enjoyed my work, please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or reblogging here, all comments/gifs/reblogs/keyboard smashes appreciated!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fluffy smut #fanfic #fanfiction #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #female!reader

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sgt-seabass · 2 years

Note

Emotionally manipulative ask today! I've had a bad day, a reallyyy bad day. In general I'm sad and to cheer me up, Bucky bakes me something. But it's terrible af cause he's still learning to cook and his sense of flavor and taste is...questionable since Hydra. I have money and will toss some your way. Thank you!

𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

pairings — soft!dark!chubby!bucky x reader w/c — 1.5k This is a dark fic. 18+ only.

warnings — soft!dark!fic, details of depression, reference to sex, some really bad cooking. a/n: I love this idea. I hope this little mind dump provides you some comfort my love. I had Good Evening by SHINee on repeat, hence the title. Thank you to @buckybarneschokeme for giving this a look over.

Like the rain on the window, you’re sparkling clearly All of our stories make us run out of breath The closer I step to you My whole world changes through you I want to know all of your moments Before that moonlight ↳ Good Evening, SHINee

The icy cold settled over the trees, animals borrowing to hide from the chill, much like Bucky as he rummaged the cupboards in the modest kitchen of his cabin, his iPad open on the counter with an ingredient list.

Life hadn’t been easy on him, far from it. Hydra had ensured that when they stripped his psyche raw and built their Frankenstein, the Winter Soldier.

But in recent years, it had become easier with your presence.

They’d found you during a raid on a remaining Hydra base, a scientist held there against your will. When Steve had introduced you to Bucky during a compound tour, he was immediately smitten. Your hair, eyes, alluring figure, and most of all, your soft broken smile pulled him in like a man possessed.

You were like him, had a piece missing that stopped you from being whole. But like two last pieces to the puzzle, Bucky took you under his wing, and the picture on the puzzle you both completed was one of unbridled happiness.

Sam had told him he didn’t think the attraction was entirely appropriate, given you were far from the mental space you needed to be in to make decisions for yourself, but Bucky needed you, and in time you realised how much you needed him too.

Even though that was because Bucky made sure you were entirely dependent on him, forcing you into situations where you had to ask for his assistance or required his guidance.

But you were happy. Over time, your smiles grew, and Bucky even got to hear your sweet giggles when you sat down to watch silly comedies together, having to explain the pop culture references to him each time his brows furrowed.

You even began to cook for him. The flavours he experienced were like nothing he’d had before. There were a few times where it had been pure sensory overload for him, so you’d learnt to tone it down to more muted tastes and staple dishes. Stews were particularly Bucky’s favourite. They could be flavourful and filling without being too overbearing.

Your cooking was so good Bucky felt like he could never get enough of it, even as he gained weight, his beefy body bulking further, his muscles weighted with a new layer of stout.

It didn’t matter much. Despite the new plumpness, Bucky was still able to have you screaming for his cock as he rutted into you, loving the way his body was able to push yours into the mattress in a way that had you mewling for him.

Bucky was quickly melding you into his perfect housewife, and after the years of torture of Hydra, it was the lesser evil for you.

And when a routine became established, Bucky decided to officially retire from the Avengers and move out to a home in the forest. The isolated cabin gave you both the space to heal together, and for Bucky, it meant he didn’t have anyone convincing you that this relationship wasn’t coming from a healthy place. You were all each other needed.

With a huff, Bucky looked at the scarcely stocked pantry. A grocery shop and trip to town was well overdue.

But you hadn’t been well.

Now that you could finally relax away from the horrors of Hydra, all the memories had been bubbling to the surface, waiting for you to deal with them and process them. It had sent you into the most profound depression Bucky had ever seen, and he felt horrible there wasn’t much he could do but give the soft skin of you back gentle touches as your body shook as you sobbed into the mattress.

You needed to process this, Sam had told him when he had called for advice, and Bucky just needed to do his best to take care of you in the meantime.

It was nearly six in the evening, and you still hadn’t stirred from bed. Bucky had brought you cereal and berries that were left untouched, as well as a chicken sandwich.

So, Bucky decided to try and cook something that may give you some comfort. You always gushed about how much you loved French food, so he settled on the idea of gratin dauphinoise potatoes. He knew he wasn’t much of a cook, but how hard could some layered potatoes be, right?

The Westernised recipe listed cloves, but Bucky stared at the lacklustre spice rack with a frown. Rosemary instead, then. Surely that would taste similar.

After placing the potatoes and rosemary on the bench, he turned his attention to the fridge. There wasn’t any cream, but there was milk. With pursed lips he hummed. It would have to do as a substitute. Bucky’s expression softened at the sight of some cheese, finally something right. It wasn’t gruyère like the recipe listed, but the cheddar cheese would make do.

Once all the ingredients were set out, Bucky put his record player on low and got to work. He’d accepted that it wasn’t going to be perfect, but he just wanted to do something to try and bring a smile back to your face. You’d made food a comfort for him, and he wanted to return the favour.

Bucky did his best to follow the recipe, resulting in an oven dish filled with potatoes, a milky sauce, and cheese.

He put it in the hot oven with a smile, proud of himself.

When you woke from your nap – if you could call it that, seeing as you’d been sleeping all day – the scent of cheesy potatoes filled your senses.

It confused you. Unless you’d been sleepwalking and cooking, it meant Bucky was cooking. But if there was one thing the super soldier was notoriously bad at doing, it was baking.

With a sigh you sat up, head still swirling with the most recent round of memories, a sheen of sweat on your skin as if your anguish was oozing from you.

You ached for Bucky’s comfort. He always praised you when he touched you, and part of you knew it was pavlovian, but you couldn’t help but be a drooling dog when you’d gone some time without him, desperate for his presence.

At the sound of utensils clanging, you swung your feet out of the bed and made your way into the kitchen, the smell getting stronger as you approached.

“Doll, I didn’t expect you up, I was going to bring some dinner to you.”

Bucky’s soft concerned voice was like a warm touch to your mind as you sat at the counter bench, resting your head in your hands, as if it could hold up the weariness in your soul.

“I smelt your cooking.”

“Well, I— I wanted to do something nice. I looked up French comfort food.”

Despite all the darkness emanating around you, there was a lightness as Bucky gave you a grin. Knowing he’d gone to all that effort just for you, it made your heart beat a little faster.

When he pulled the dish out of the oven your brows raised at the sight of it. Instead of creamy potatoes it looked like a watery spud graveyard. But you kept your thoughts to yourself as Bucky served you a small portion, expectant eyes looking at you.

When the mouthful hit your palate, you couldn’t hold back the laugh that rose from your belly. It tasted horrible. An odd milky, weirdly seasoned mess attacked your tastebuds, and you covered your mouth to stifle any further sounds coming from you as you swallowed the starchy grossness.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You felt bad as Bucky looked at you like a wounded animal, clearly dejected, but he couldn’t help but perk up as you smiled at him.

“It’s bad. It’s really bad Bucky.” Your laughs continued and once Bucky had a taste of the mess, he started chuckling too.

The situation was a little mad. Two people so ruined by Hydra, sitting sniggering over potatoes.

But in that moment, it was as if none of the hurt mattered, in a way the shitty potatoes had healed a part of your soul, and further connected you.

Bucky came over and enveloped you in an embrace, weighty arms wrapping around your frame as his scent overtook that of the potatoes and replaced it with a musky smell that made you feel at home.

The worries of the world started to dissipate as you relaxed into the portly body around you.

“If you’re up for it, how about a trip to town, sweetheart. We could get some pizza?”

“Pizza sounds great, Bucky.”

Things weren’t okay, far from it, but with Bucky supporting you it made you feel as if everything might just be alright.

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#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #marvel #mcu #ambswrites #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine

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missmonsters2 · 3 years

Text

To Have A Home

(not my gif)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Months and months of radio silence from Natasha. You think you've broken her heart. But sometimes, people just need time to make their way back. After all, Natasha should know she has a home with you.

Warnings: f u c k i n g s o f t. Could pertain BW movie spoilers. Also unbeta'd.

Note: Well I miss this woman so much I think I cry myself to sleep every night so there's that. Let the soft angst and hurt/comfort fics begin 😌

Prompt: "If you don't know where to go, you can always come here."

Count: ~2.6k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The Avengers have split up. Anyone who's a fugitive is laying low on their own terms.

You never thought the Accords could do this to a group of people who've risked their lives over and over to save earth from total decimation. On the one hand, you understood where Tony came from, but you had understood Steve as well.

It'd probably be hard to worry about property destruction and country lines if there was no earth at all.

Either way, you had managed to remain neutral in the split—purposely. And you did that so you could help others behind the scene, off-the-radar.

You had properties located throughout America and a few internationally. You had been fortunate to inherit a lot of places from your grandfather. Along with Ross, Tony and his team had tried to raid a couple of your places in America or stake them out to see if they could catch anyone.

But you have a good lawyer, and there wasn't any good enough reason to approve a warrant against your places. You hadn't been impressed with Tony, and the way he avoided your eyes told him that hadn't been what he wanted to do either but had no choice.

In the end, you were semi-retired as a hero, left to your own devices. You're pretty sure Wanda and Vision are living in one of your properties in Europe. You hear from them maybe every two weeks to a month when Wanda travels outside the city to mail you letters.

You hear from Steve often. He has your number memorized every time he gets a new burner phone. He's always on the move, going from hotel-to-hotel, or safehouse to safehouse. There's the odd time he'll get to stay in one of your properties. You no longer really worry when you get the notifications that someone has broken into one of your places. You just turn off the alarm when you do because it's always Steve, Bucky, and Sam.

The only person you haven't heard from is Natasha.

Radio silence from the person you want to hear from the most. If that doesn't make your heart feel like it's in a never-ending fall, you don't know what does.

You wonder if it's your fault because you had refused to run with her when the time came to split. Deep down, you're sure you both knew what you had chosen was better for the team as a whole.

But you often wonder if that choice had made Natasha feel alone. Had Natasha felt you abandoned her?

You swallow thickly as you lie in your bed. You wished Steve had more time to chat with you on the phone, but he only had a couple of minutes because they needed to get on the move again.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before exhaling. You resolved to get some sleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The edge of consciousness tickles your brain, moving to your eyelids. You let out a dry hum, wondering if you can stave off the need for water to fall back asleep.

But when your throat is so dry, you feel like you might choke when you breathe. You let out a soft sigh as you begin to open your eyes.

Your breath hitches immediately. Waves of red tresses come into view.

Natasha Romanoff was in your bed, asleep.

It has been months since you've seen her. Her hair has grown out, and she looks...tired.

A part of you feels like you might be dreaming. Maybe all that pent up yearning has you hallucinating.

You don't move; a part of you is scared that if you did, she'd disappear. You try to just stare at her peacefully, taking in her features slowly. The back of your eyes starts to burn along with your throat.

You're not sure why.

Suddenly, Natasha opens her eyes.

Those viridian eyes have always enraptured you. Natasha is a complex person, as are most people, but she's the master of manipulation. She has the art of deceit down to a perfect point.

Natasha is an open person, but only because she wants you to see what she feels. Steve had tried to explain it once when he was on the run on Natasha. He said that while he knew her and trusted her, he would never fully know her. He would take a bullet for her, but Clint may be the only person who knows Natasha.

But as she lies there staring at you, and you can see every speck of colours in her eyes, you think you might've just seen her soul.

Natasha was lying in your bed after months of radio silence, baring her soul to you.

And the only thing you would ever do is accept it.

You rush forward, pressing your lips against hers. Her lips are still a little cool, an indication she might've slipped in pretty recently.

Natasha lets out a choked whimper at your touch. Kisses...had never happened before. Natasha wasn't sure what had really held her back from wanting you. Maybe because you're too good for her.

Sometimes it scares Natasha to want things so badly. She can't quite explain it. She knows she's allowed to want things, allowed to have good things.

But when it comes to you, everything is always too much. Too much wanting and wanting everything.

Natasha pulls you closer until she can feel the heat of your body against hers—until she can feel the soft skin of your exposed hip.

"'m sorry," Natasha mumbles continuously between kisses because now that she's had them, she wants it all. See? It's always too much with you. "m sorry."

You feel lightheaded every time Natasha's lips press against yours. Each kiss gets more intimate, and you can start to taste the toothpaste on her tongue.

All you can think about is that she's real. Natasha is really here. She's here, and you're kissing her.

She's kissing back.

"Why are you sorry?" You mumble when you pull back to breathe.

It's still dark out, the moonlight illuminating your room. You stroke Natasha's cheek for just a second, watching the redhead's eyes flutter before you sit up and turn over to grab the glass of water on your nightstand.

Natasha sits up with you, suddenly feeling exposed as the blanket falls off her body.

"Why shouldn't I be sorry?" Natasha asks quietly as she watches you take a sip of water, momentarily jealous of your glass. "I...ghosted you. For months."

You put the glass back down, feeling better now that your throat isn't so dry. The water helps you wake up a little too. You turn back to Natasha and let your eyes relax.

Natasha looks so soft with a braid still in her hair.

"We all have our own ways to deal with the fallout," you tell her softly. "It must've been hard for you. Steve has Bucky and Sam, Wanda has Vision, and Clint has his family. You should've had me but I chose to stay here."

Natasha swallows hard because she did understand your choice. She really did. The choice had saved her ass a couple of times when she needed a hideout.

But there was a certain truth to your words. She was alone, and as much as Natasha has tried to say she's better off alone, she wants her family. Natasha wants you.

Which was why went shit hit the fan, the only place—the only place she could think of returning to was you.

"I'm sorry," Natasha is only a little horrified when she feels the familiar burn in the back of her eyes and the tears that welled up. "I haven't reached out to you at all and then I just showed up here."

Natasha could say that she didn't know where else to go, but that would be a lie. She's a resourceful person, so she always has somewhere to go. But she wanted to be where you were.

You lean closer, letting your fingers caress her collarbone before they move up to cup the back of her neck as you pull her in for a chaste kiss.

"Not that this is ever an issue for you, but if you don't know where to go, you can always come here," you mumble against her lips. "Even if you had a million other places to go, you can always come here."

Natasha does say anything, merely pressing forward for another sweet kiss. This was going to make her greedy. Being greedy made it hard to be a hero because the hero should always be ready to make sacrifices.

Natasha bargains that maybe she'll let herself live and die for one person.

"How'd you get in here, anyway?" You ask. "My home has security features that rival Stark’s."

Giving you an endearing smile, Natasha presses another kiss to your lips. "Oh, honey..."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next morning, you stretch in bed, noting that you were alone again.

A part of you had felt a jolt that maybe Natasha was gone again. You had been prepared for that possibility.

But when you hear some clanking in your kitchen, you smile. You put on a shirt and some shorts before you walk out.

Natasha is fumbling around, cooking eggs and pancakes, it seems. She's diligently watching the food, and you think the entire thing is so...strange. And endearing.

There was a fugitive in your kitchen. A fugitive who was a highly trained assassin, and she was cooking breakfast for you.

"Wait until all the bubbles have popped and there are holes..." Natasha mumbles to herself, and you press your hand to your mouth, trying to not laugh.

"I see the time alone has made you a better cook," you comment, and Natasha turns without surprise.

She's pouting at you before she turns back to her task. "Don't distract me."

You lightly chuckle as you walk over to join her, grabbing an extra spatula. "Since you're doing such an amazing job on the pancakes, I'll watch the eggs. Where's the bacon?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Too hard."

You bite your lip to stop any laughter from coming out as you go to the fridge to get out the bacon.

The morning passes by peacefully, a rarity to have as you sit with Natasha on your couch, mindlessly playing something in the background.

"I have to leave again soon," Natasha tells you quietly.

You feel a sting hit the back of your throat.

Natasha reaches under your couch into the safe spot you have built under there. She pulls out a bundle of vials with some sort of red liquid or powder in them.

"I was attacked last night," Natasha confesses, and you feel your breath hitch with worry.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" You frowned.

Natasha gives you a wry smile. "I preferred kissing and touching you."

You try to not let your body surrender to the heat of the memories. You clear your throat as you point to the vials.

"So, what is that?" You ask instead.

Natasha shrugs. "I don't know. It was sent to me."

"By who?"

Natasha doesn't answer at first. She pulls a folded paper out from the middle before unfolding it.

You get a glance at it and realize it's photos from a photobooth. Two little girls, one blonde, one with red hair and blue dye.

Your gaze wanders back to Natasha, who is staring at the photo somewhat listlessly.

Too many emotions to try to decipher.

"My little sister," Natasha finally says quietly as if she could still take the words back if she wanted to.

Of all the things you do know about Natasha, it's that she doesn't have any biological family, or at least doesn't know them.

You stare at the photo and know instantly the one with blue dye must be Natasha. The red underneath was her natural hair colour. The blonde must be the one Natasha is referring to.

"I don't know why she would send me this..." Natasha shook her head with a puff of breath. "Almost got my ass kicked keeping it safe and I don't even know what it is."

You carefully wrap your arm around Natasha, happy that she leans into your touch. "We'll figure it out, Nat."

"We?" Natasha tries to tease, but you could see the hope in her eyes. Hope along with an effort to smother it down.

You wonder how no one knows Natasha.

All you had to do was really look into her eyes. All you had to do was love her, and she would open her eyes to you. But you suppose no one is more obsessed with looking into her eyes more than you.

"You think you can just break into my home, kiss and debauch me before leaving? Take responsibility, Romanoff. You've never shirked away from accountability before," you quirk your eyebrows at her, and Natasha can't help the smile that blooms on her face as she laughs with a shake of her head.

"What about being neutral? About remaining here for the others?" She asks after.

You shrug. "Everyone who was Team Cap is welcomed to enter my properties as long as they're discreet. I can write to Wanda and let her know I'll be off for a while. I think Steve would be happier if I came with you. Being neutral as long as I have has already paid off and served its purpose."

You move your fingers around her to play with the ends of her hair.

"We both did what we had to do, Nat. But don't leave me behind now. I'm alone too."

The words make Natasha burn.

She lets the bundle of vials fall carefully on the couch between them as Natasha lets her lips fall upon yours. She's probably never going to get sick of your lips. She must've kissed it at least a thousand times since last night.

"I know I'm not supposed to but I think I've made a home in you," Natasha admits, and you smile as you nudge her nose with yours.

"That's perfect," you tell her. "No matter if you know or don't know where to go, I can always be with you."

Natasha sucks in her bottom lip, biting it slowly as she smiles.

They should really pack up and go. They might get attacked again here if they don't leave soon.

"Can you tell me her name? Before we meet her?" You ask.

Natasha peers down at the old photo, feeling something she can't explain in her chest as she gazes at it.

"Yelena."

"Yelena," you mutter back as if testing the name. "Pretty name like you. Hopefully she's a better cook, though."

Natasha scoffs and gives you a mock glare.

"The pancakes were delicious," she tries to not pout again.

You nod, kissing Natasha's nose before you get up to grab your ready-to-run bag. "Yes, they were," you agreed. "I was impressed by your initiative to throw in the blueberries."

Natasha doesn't say anything, merely sticking her tongue out at you as you prepare everything for them. Natasha's only job is to find a way to get to Budapest without anyone knowing.

She sneaks a glance at you.

Natasha isn't excited to confront parts of her past, and she doesn't know what meeting up with Yelena will be like. But she has you, and as long as she has you, Natasha knows she has a home no matter what choices she makes and no matter what she's done.

It's more than enough, probably more than she deserves. But she'll hang onto you for as long as you'll let her—until she's forced to let go.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x you #mm: my fics

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Zemo befriending a former Avenger | Marvel HC

Set during the events of TFATWS

Marvel Masterlist | Other Masterlists

Warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, death, fluff, banter, enemies-to-friends.

Zemo befriending a former Avenger would include:

You two were not exactly ‘besties’ when y’all first met. Mostly because Zemo hates avengers/enhanced beings, and you were still pissed about what happened during the whole civil war fiasco between your friends.

So when Bucky and Sam call you up during your much needed vacation/retirement, you were not pleased to say the least. “Y/N, please we wouldn’t ask if we were confident we could do this alone. We need you.” “And I need peace and quiet along with a very large margarita.”

It’s safe to say you didn’t win that argument, because three hours later you’re flying to Berlin unaware of what lies ahead. Sam and Bucky never imagined they would have to step in front of Zemo to protect him from your wrath, but there’s always a first for everything.

“Dammit, Y/N! Calm down!” “You both are about to have my foot up your ass for your sheer stupidity!” “Maybe we should all take a deep--.” “You shut the fuck, Zemo. Don’t think you’re getting out of it what I have planned for you.”

The tension on the plane to Madripoor was something you never experienced in all your years as an avenger. Well, former avenger—you were technically retired and only came to help because you promised Steve you’d look out for Bucky and Sam. The man was the avenger you were closest too, and despite a short term falling out after the Accords, you remained close after the first fiasco with Thanos.

The entire time you ignore the conversations happening around you, and you’d be lying you said you didn’t find Bucky threatening Zemo in a chokehold amusing. He didn’t appreciate the sound of your laughter.

Hearing you all would be traveling to Madripoor filled you with dread. As a former SHIELD agent, you were tasked on many undercover operations stationed on the island and your reputation would not give you a warm welcome. Zemo of course already knew this, so he made sure there was a wig, outfit, and sunglasses for you on the plane.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, but you appreciated the gesture. Otherwise you would’ve been shot on sight the moment you stepped off the plane.

All hell brakes loose because Sam’s dumbass forgot to put his phone on silent. “Oh no you don’t you little fucker,” you muttered when you caught Zemo running in the other direction away from the others during a street ambush. You tagged with him, and nearly tackled him down but instead pushed him into a wall.

Of course he looked displeased at the action, but the ringing of bullets around you both had him push you to the ground and lay beside you. Cursing under your breath, you reached to your thigh holsters on either side. “You have a gun, Baron?” “No they wouldn’t allow me one.” “Not surprised.” *Hands over pistol making him confused* “You watch my six and I watch yours?” *nods* “Good, let’s get to work.”

There seemed to be an understanding between the two of you after that. You wouldn’t call it the start of a friendship, no, you still despise his guts. But you at least respect him a small ounce given he saved your life during the ambush when you weren’t paying attention. Zemo is the same. You were an avenger at one point so he holds some form of animosity toward you, but he might hate you less than your other companions.

At Sharon’s place, you mostly stuck around Sam nursing a cocktail while scouting the place. Your drink was delicious, however not when you choke on it after seeing Zemo busting it up on the dance floor. The man is so out of place. I mean his moves are not what one would with the type of music and environment.

Nearly dying from second hand embarrassment—and feeling groovy after three or four drinks—you find yourself stalking over to the Baron, surprising him. “Please tell me you’ve got moves better than this?” “What you don’t like them?” “I don’t think anyone could, Zemo. Look around you.” “Why don’t you show me then how it works.” “Is that a challenge, buddy.”

Needless to say, you were thankful Sam and Bucky could not see you cause you were lost in the sauce one upping this man and he sure as hell was having fun watching you do it.

At the shipping docks you two once again watched each other’s six. Were you surprised when Zemo shot Niagel point blank in the head? No. But you wish he could’ve warned you or gave a hint. Again, you chased after him when he disappeared. “Why are you always the one following after me?” “Because trouble tends to leave a trail behind you, Baron.”

When he picks up the car, you take dibs on the front—not wanting to hear the two men argue about moving the seat up. However you fall victim to it. “I can’t move the damn seat up, Sam. This car has the front connected together, for God’s sake.”

In Riga, when Bucky is off taking a walk and Sam is making a call leaving you alone with Zemo, the two of you get to talking. At first you put up your defenses, but slowly the conversation flows. You start talking about your military experience before becoming an avenger, and he asks questions given he was once a colonel for the Sokovian armed forces. You ask about his background before 2016, and when the conversation about the bombing comes up—although he was reluctant about some details, he eventually tells you more about why he did what he did.

You apologize for what happened to his family, having been in Sokovia when Ultron occurred. You retired soon after, feeling guilty and resentful of how the Avengers handled the aftermath which is why you were somewhat a supporter of the Accords. You know apology does nothing to change the past, but Zemo is grateful for it all the same—since you’re the only one to ever publicly voice one following the destruction of his country.

This forms a more mutual respect between you two, and it throws Bucky and Sam off a bit when they find you two still talking and bonding hours later before they head out to scout for leads. You were with Zemo when he approached the children, and when he was given the information he actually told you right away.

For Bucky and Sam though, well…RIP to that teacup.

More chaos and unplanned circumstances take place including having to deal with wannabe Cap and his sidekick, fighting supersoldiers and facing the Dora Milaje. Although it was very entertaining watching them wipe John Walker with the floor. “Y/N please help us.” “Eh, it looks like you boys have it handled.”

All the while you fail to notice Zemo slipped away in the bathroom. Once the fighting seizes, you and the two figure out a plan to search for him, but it gets interrupted when Karli calls Sam’s sister. You’re starting to really have it with this chick, and when another fight takes place against her and her entourage, you unleash everything you’ve got. However it all comes to a stand still when Hopkins is accidentally killed, and Walker murders one of the flagsmashers in public.

After a three-on-one battle between him, you leave with a broken nose, cut temple and bruised ribs—forgetting the asshole took the serum behind y’all’s back. You join Bucky to find Zemo, realizing he had gone back to where Sokovia once stood and the memorial was located.

As a peaceful gesture, you bring a small bouquet of flowers. Zemo didn’t notice you at first because he had been facing Bucky and you walked up behind him. Bucky had the gun, but you knew it was empty and a tactic against Zemo which is why you don’t stop him. Zemo turns just as you finish placing the bouquet down, and his expression becomes concerned by your injuring.

“What happened, Y/N?” “After you’re little escape, we had a run in with Walker—who you will be displeased to know has taken the serum.” The news of this angers the Baron, believing he had destroyed all the vials. “I am sorry, I thought I got them all—are you alright?” “Eh, you should see how he looks.”

The thanks you for leaving the flowers which you tell him, “It’s the least I could do.” It’s only a second later you three spot the Dora Milaje approaching and Zemo’s expression tightens—though understanding what comes next. “I guess this is goodbye then.” “Try to stay out of trouble, Baron. Then just maybe you could see yourself with at least one friend in the future.”

A genuine smile forms on his face, liking the idea and he sticks out his hand to you. You shake it and watch as he says a few last words to Bucky before being led to the aircraft by Aro and the other Wakandans.

It’s not till after everything comes to a conclusion in New York that Zemo receives a small letter. He was confused, not expecting anything addressed to him and specifically told Oeznik to not contact him once he completes his task. Plus he had already heard on the radio the man was successful.

He opened the letter, unfolding it and when his eyes read over the neatly cursive words, the Baron’s face broke out in a grin. “I thought I told you to stay out of trouble, Baron.”

Needless to say, a unlikely friendship was born.

#zemo #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron zemo imagine #tfatws imagine #helmut zemo headcannon #tfatws #tfatws headcanons #marvel fanfiction #marvel headcanons #avenger!reader

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bxckybarness · 2 years

Text

Back in the Fight II

summary: you didn’t quite expect to cross breaking a high-profile prisoner out of a high-security German prison off your bucket list, or maybe you did.

word count: 1600+

a/n: i wrote and re-wrote three versions of this because i could not decide which direction i wanted to go. but this is what we ended with and i hope you enjoy it! if you want to be tagged in the next part, comment and let me know!!

read part I here. read part III here

When you asked to join the fight against the Flag Smashers, you certainly hadn’t expected to fly to Germany, meet the new “Captain America,” fight a bunch of super soldiers, pick Bucky and Sam up from the county prison and then visit Zemo all within 72 hours. Not to say you hadn’t expected the action, because you had (except for maybe the prison and Zemo parts) and were ready - but all of this in 3 days time? You were definitely going to need a vacation after this. Or maybe you would just go back into retirement.

It had all started Tuesday morning…

You had thought today would be a great day. At least until you walked onto the large military plane to two grown adults having a “who can make the meanest face at each other” contest.

You throw your small bag down along the far wall of the plane and glance over at Joaquin, who you had met only a day earlier through Sam. He shakes his head and shrugs, going back to his pre-departure checks.

You laugh and walk over towards the brooding superheroes, crossing your arms as you stop in front of them.

“Three days ago, you two showed up at my house like you were best buds. So what the hell happened since then?”

No response comes from either man.

“Seriously? Nobody’s gonna fill me in on why we suddenly hate each other?”

Still, no response.

And that’s how it remains. Not one word to each other, not a word to you or Joaquin.

…and continued once in Germany…

The three of you had found yourself in an empty warehouse, thanks to your stealthiness. Now you relied on Redwing’s technical ability to help you determine just how many people you could be up against.

“Looks like they’re smuggling weapons,” Sam says, eyes focused on the small screen on his wrist.

“Interesting,” you reply. “I guess it makes sense given their track record and recent appearances.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” Bucky says, his attitude from earlier on the plane still ever present.

“We aren’t assassins,” you reply. “Or at least not anymore.”

You smile and look at Sam, who is smiling back at you, clearly amused by your joke. Bucky, however, is clearly unamused and begins to walk away but not before letting you know he would see you inside. You and Sam share a glance and shrug, moving to walk after the super soldier.

Sam lets out a small chuckle, “He is seriously a pain in the ass sometimes,”

“Tell me about it.”

…and then you met the new “Captain America”...

It was obvious you, Sam and Bucky had no intention of becoming friends with the idiot they promoted into Steve’s position. And it was also obvious that John Walker was not picking up on that at all.

“Mad respect for both of y’all, but you were definitely getting your asses kicked back there,” Walker’s sidekick says.

“And who exactly are you?” Bucky snaps back.

“Lamar Hoskins, Battlestar,” the man replies.

You unintentionally let out a laugh at the name, earning an amused look from Bucky and Sam.

“Sorry, I just,” you start, “You’re Captain America’s sidekick and THAT’s the best you could come up with?”

….and that ultimately led you to picking up the two idiots at the county jail and then getting back on a plane, headed right back to Germany. A hell of a week, that’s for sure.

____________

You glanced over at Sam from your seated position in the prison’s visitor waiting area. He had been pacing ever since the two of you had reluctantly left Bucky to speak to Zemo exactly 7 minutes ago.

“Sam,” you mumble, “can you stop doing that? You’re seriously beginning to stress me out.”

Sam sighs and stops his pacing, turning to face where you sit. He rubs his hands together, a clear sign of his tension, before speaking.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe he went in there on his own. It was stupid.”

You let out a small laugh and pat the chair next to you, offering a spot for Sam to sit.

“Yeah, it is stupid,” you agree. “But I think we kind of agreed to the stupidity when we agreed to come see this guy.”

Sam sighs in acknowledgment with your words and sits next to you, falling into silence. The two of you sit there a few more minutes, before he speaks up again.

“So, what were you doing between your work with Hydra and us finding you?”

“Hm. Some odd jobs here and there. Various private eye jobs, some internet sleuthing, even did some behind the scenes recon for the Avengers a few times.”

At this, you nudge his shoulder with a laugh. He nudges you back, a shocked expression visible on his face, “Seriously? You were working with us the whole time?!”

“Not always. Just little things here and there.”

“Unbelievable,” he says with a laugh and shake of his head.

3 minutes later, Bucky returns from his visit. He has a new sense of determination in his eye, as if he’s up to something. You glance over at Sam, who is already looking at you and it’s clear you both see it. Bucky doesn’t stop at where you’re seated and instead motions quickly for you to follow him. You immediately get up and follow, Sam close behind you. Bucky leads the two of you to an unused underground garage (how did he know this was here?) and as soon as you’re all in the space, the door shut tightly behind you, he speaks.

“I think we should bust Zemo out of jail.”

“We should do what?” you holler, at the same time Sam says, “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“He’s considered one of the most dangerous men alive, you didn’t consider that?” you ask.

“We have 8 super soldiers on the loose,” he retorts.

“He’s gonna mess with our minds - especially yours,” Sam continues.

“Listen, he’s crazy but he can help. Super soldiers go against what he believes in. He’s our best chance,” Bucky pleads.

“Buck,” you start, moving so you’re standing directly in front of him. “This guy blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and blamed it on you. Did you forget that?”

“Don’t let this throw you off the deep end anymore than it already is,” Sam adds.

“We need to know where this serum is coming from,” he says calmly. “Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical.”

You and Sam immediately look at each other and once again, speak at the same time.

“What did you do?”

“Bucky…”

He shakes his head, “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

Nobody speaks and Bucky takes this as a sign to begin explaining his “hypothetical plan” to get Zemo out. How the weakest part of any system is the human element, how there’s 9 guards for every 1 prisoner, how if 2 prisoners start fighting, protocol says 4 guards need to respond.

“Why would two prisoners randomly start fighting?” you ask.

“Who knows, could be for any reason” Bucky replies.

He continues explaining that if a fight were to escalate then lockdown procedures would be initiated - the perfect distraction for someone to potentially slip away with minimal contact. He finishes his speech and looks to you and Sam for a response. The two of you share a look, the both of you obviously concerned and confused.

“I don’t like how casual you’re being about a prison breakout,” Sam offers.

“Agreed. Something tells me this is NOT hypothetical, Barnes,” you say, eyeing him suspiciously.

Before he can respond to defend himself or explain further, a door swings open causing all three of you to turn toward the noise. Perfectly on cue, Zemo himself walks into the room, clad in a guard’s uniform and looking as smug as ever. Sam reacts quickly, his defenses immediately up. You attempt to pull him back as Bucky stands in between the two of you and the Sokovian criminal. Words and accusations fly amongst the three of you while Zemo stands awkwardly, only a few feet away.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you guys would say no.”

“Why did you do that?”

“We need him.”

“I knew you weren’t being hypothetical.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re going back to jail.”

A breath in the argument allows Zemo to speak up, “If I may?”

“No!” Sam and Bucky both yell in response.

After a few more minutes of arguing, you sigh and move to stand between the two men. You turn to Bucky, placing one hand on his chest in an effort to get him to listen to you.

“Look, Buck,” you say softly, “If this is what you want to do, I’ll back you. I’ll follow you anywhere and you know that, but we need to be careful.”

Bucky smiles and nods at you before you turn to Sam, “Sam, he’s right. Zemo could quite literally be the only person who has or will willingly give up this information. He could be invaluable in this fight.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zemo nod, likely to the notion that he is invaluable. You roll your eyes and step back so you’re no longer in between the two Avengers, allowing them to focus on each other once more.

Sam lets out a sigh and looks between you and Bucky.

“If we do this,” he says, addressing Zemo directly. “You’re playing with us, not against us. No moves without our say.”

“Noted,” Zemo replies.

“So where do we start?”

You chuckle to yourself as Zemo walks over to join the three of you. Just when you thought this week couldn’t get any crazier, you could now cross breaking a high-profile criminal out of a high-security prison on your “Working with Avengers” bucket list. This mission was far from over, though, and you had a feeling this wasn’t the last time you’d be laughing at the insanity of what you were doing.And you were right.

Because where Zemo was taking you next was unlike any place you had been before - even as an undercover agent.

#falcon and the winter soldier imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes fanfic #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson oneshot #sam wilson fanfic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #sam wilson #zemo

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bbgem329 · 2 years

Text

Just One Night—Chapter Eighteen

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Summary

You spend an unforgettable night with Sebastian Stan. One that would completely change your life. Three years later, Sebastian shows up at your doorstep to find that you both made more than just good memories that night.

Warnings

Pure fricken fluff!!! Dad!Seb. Mentions and discussions of pregnancy. Teeny tiny bit of angst.

—————

July 23, 2020

“Viviana. Alina.”

Sebastian whispered, lips gliding softly along (Y/N)’s swollen belly. He was laying on his stomach between her legs, arms thrown over her thighs, and hands on either side of her prominent bulge. He’d woken up a little earlier, just so he had time to talk to his baby girls before he was due to be on set for the rest of the day. His fingers traced up the smooth skin, chuckling softly to himself, when he pushed her popped belly button in with a little ‘boop’.

(Y/N) was completely unaware, had been for the last forty five minutes he’d been laying there, speaking quietly to their unborn children and gently tracing along her bare belly.

He didn’t dare wake her either. she needed the rest more than ever. The smallest tasks drained her completely. Whatever energy that wasn’t being used to grow and nurture the twins, wasn’t much and depleted far too quickly for her to keep up. It had gotten the point where all she really wanted to—could do was eat, sleep, pee, and repeat.

Fortunately for them, (Y/N)’s parents were both retired and didn’t have much going on. When Sebastian gave them a call, in a complete disarray and unsure of what to do, they’d offered to come down and help out with Theo so that she could rest and Sebastian could focus on wrapping up filming. He’d flown them out the very next day and they would remain here to travel home with them so they’d be around when the babies arrived.

To say that had been immensely helpful, would be an understatement. They cooked, cleaned, entertained Theo, and cared for (Y/N). (Y/F/N) had even dropped by a set numerous times to bring him a home cooked meal for lunch. Sebastian wasn’t at all used to having so much family around but he was beyond thankful for hers. They treated him and cared for him as if he were their own, working hard to include him and make him feel welcomed. Constantly going out of their way to make sure he was eating, sleeping, and doing alright too.

Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly as the side of her belly pushed out, with what he assumed was a foot, knee, or elbow. He was quick to rest his hand over the spot, heart swelling in his chest. Knowing (Y/N)’s smooth, stretched skin was the only barrier between him and his daughters, made butterflies flutter in his naval. The limb receded, the thumping ceasing against his hand, and he drew back his hand to rest his cheek against it.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” He knew they could hear them, and had been since the eighteenth week of (Y/N)’s pregnancy, according to the books he’d read. “Neither can momma.” He stole a peak up at the woman he loved, relieved to find her still asleep, completely dead to the world. “And Theo, he’s going to be the best big brother in the whole world. He’ll look out for you no matter what.” He paused, feeling little flutters beneath his lips. “Oh. And Bucky too. He’ll give ya both all the snuggles in the world.” He chuckled at the thought of their big, lovely husky. No doubt he’d be just as protective of the girls as he is Theo.

“Not much longer until you're both finally here and I can’t wait. It’s going to be perfect, all six of us together.” He trailed his fingers along (Y/N)’s sides, voice low and quiet. He hoped by now they’d recognize him as their father. They seemed to by the way they’d flutter and shift about when he spoke or touched her belly. “But don’t you dare come too early. I don’t think daddy’s heart can’t handle something going terribly wrong.”

Sebastian froze as (Y/N) groaned softly in her sleep, wiggling and shifting as she attempted to roll on her side. He knew she wouldn’t last all that long laying on her back. The babies tended to push down on her organs, especially her lungs and make it hard to breathe. She’d laid in this position long enough so he slipped from between her legs, allowing her to move as she pleased to be comfortable. He lounged himself beside her on his side, cheek pressed to the sheet and head level with her protruding tummy.

“Shh.” He cooed softly, pressing soft kisses across the center of her belly, “Don’t wake momma. She’s working so hard at growing you both and it makes her sleepy.” He lowered his even more, sneaking glances at (Y/N) to make sure she remained asleep. “She’s the best momma ever. We’re all so lucky to have her.” He smiled softly, “So take easy on her, okay? Can you do that for daddy?”

“You trying to get laid, Stan.” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice still thick with sleep, starling him.

He looked up at her through his lashes, a goofy grin splitting across his lips, one so big it made his cheeks hurt. “No. Just having an early morning chat with our girls.” He pressed one last kiss to her belly before climbing up to lay beside her on his pillow. “How long have you been awake? How much of that did you hear?”

“Since I rolled on my side.” She giggled softly, lifting her hand to run along his cheek until her fingers curled in his tousled hair. “Sounded like you were buttering me up.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, leaning forward to brush his lips lightly against hers. “Never, pretty girl. I meant every word.” He pressed a few meaningful kisses against her own before rolling over to grab his phone off the nightstand beside him.

“How long have you been awake?” She asked, lashes fluttering in the morning light. She looked like a fucking goddess, complexion free of any make up and a gentle glow radiating across her skin. Pregnancy looked so good on her and he told her often, despite the insecurities that grew right along with the swell of her belly.

“Hm. About an hour I think.” He slipped back down the sheets, taking his previous position so he was eye level with her bump. “I wanted to take some time to talk to them before I have to be on set.”

“What are you doing, Seb?” She giggled as he nudged her gently to lay on her back again before plopping rightfully between her legs. She didn’t hesitate to tangle her dainty fingers in his hair, combing soothingly through them as he rested his cheeks against her tummy and used one hand to fiddle with his phone.

“I’m taking a picture.” He responded plainly, pressing his lips to her belly and quickly snapping a picture once he’d angle the camera to capture his entire head and her protruding abdomen. “Would it be okay if I posted it? I just really wanna show my girls off right now.”

“Of course, baby.” She beamed, wearing a smile so brilliant that her eyes crinkled at the corners. “But first you need to help me to pee. Alina is pressing on my bladder and if I don’t get up in the next twenty seconds, I think I might accidentally pee on the bed, and probably you too.”

Sebastian's eyes widened and he scrambled out from between her legs, earning a boisterous laugh from his lover. He placed a hand behind her back, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed before pulling her to her feet with a little groan. He stood beside her for a moment, making sure she was steady on her feet. She stretched and wiggled about, back cracking as she twisted side to side causing the man to grimace slightly. He knew how uncomfortable and achy her back had been, and it only seemed to get worse as her pregnancy progressed. The weight in her womb strained her spine.

He took a seat on the side of the bed, eyeing her as she waddled to the bathroom. He caught her stealing a little glance in the mirror, a loud huff falling from her lips as she examined her reflection. He shook his head to himself. He hated how insecure she’d started feeling. (Y/N) thought she looked like a beached whale and when she’d found a few stretch marks after a shower last month, despite all her efforts and the oils she’d used to prevent them, cried herself to sleep in his arms.

Sebastian didn’t really understand but he tried.

Of course, she was going to have a bigger belly and stretch marks. She’d been a bit on the smaller side before her pregnancy and now that she was growing two babies, the skin had to stretch to accommodate them. They couldn’t very well go in, so they had to grow out as he often reminded her. He thought the world of her, that she’d never looked more beautiful than she did swelling with their daughters and he made sure to tell her every chance he got.

Once he was sure she made it to the toilet, he turned his attention to his phone, grinning like a fool as he typed furiously away.

‘Waiting patiently for our baby girls to arrive.

@yourusername, you’ve given me the greatest gifts. I’m incredibly thankful and blessed that you’ve chosen me to be the father of not just one, but three beautiful babies. There is no one else I’d want by side as my lover, best friend, partner, and the mother of my children.

I love you and our growing family.’

Sebastian took a deep breath, his smile growing impossibly large across his chapped lips as likes and sweet comments began flooding his notifications. He locked his phone before tossing on the sheets behind him just as (Y/N) appeared before him, standing between his parted legs.

“How are you feeling this morning, momma?” He asked, large hands rubbing up and down the back of her thighs.

“I feel okay.” She sighed, hands coming up to cup his stubbled cheeks. “Little achy and sore but I only woke up twice last night. I think the back rub and how you adjusted the pillows actually helped.”

“Good.” His hands slipped up to grasp her waist, shifting her gently back as he rose to his feet. She let out an excited squeal as he spun her around and pressed his chest to her back. “Let me help relieve some of the pressure.”

(Y/N) sunk back into his embrace, eyes fluttering shut as two large hands cupped the underside of her protruding belly, lifting the weight of it. A content moan spilled from her lips when the heaviness and pressure eased on her back, hips, and organs.

Sebastian chuckled softly, dipping down to trail light kisses along the expanse of the right side of her neck and shoulder. Ever since they’d found this little trick, a recommendation on tik tok, he’d done it every chance he got. Not only did it help alleviate and sooth his lover but also gave him a chance to hold all three of his girls. It made him feel useful as he’d felt more and more useless as her pregnancy progressed.

“That feel good?” He whispered, burying his nose in her hair, and inhaling the comforting scent of her shampoo.

“Yes.” She breathed out, her right hand lifting to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck as her head lolled lazily against his left shoulder. “So good. Feels like I’m not ever pregnant anymore. Thank you.”

“Mm.” He hummed against her smooth skin. “You’re welcome, pretty girl.”

They stayed there for a few more moments, Sebastian swaying them from side to side, unknowingly rocking their unborn daughters to sleep. It was the perfect way to start his day. He just knew he’d spend the rest of his morning smiling like an idiot and Anthony would, no doubt, give him shit, but he didn’t care, not when he got to wake up to his beautiful family everyday.

—————

“And how’s my fur baby?” (Y/N) asked, smile widening as Georgeta flashed the camera to the wiggling husky. His excitement was to be expected, he’d heard his mom’s voice after all. “Hi baby. I miss you.” Her voice soft and tone higher as she spoke to the big pup. “Are you being a good boy for Bunica?”

“Oh. He has been wonderful company, honey—Haven't ya, Buck? Hmm?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at the older woman’s affections towards the husky. She swore Georgeta had the worst case of heart eyes as she ran her fingers through his fur as he moved to rest his head in her lap. “I don’t know, (Y/N/N). I might not give him back. Bucky’s just perfect—aren’t you? Yes you are.”

(Y/N) laughed wholeheartedly, belly jiggling as her body shook with laughter. “Oh, I miss you both so much.” She said once she’d caught her breath. “Georgeta, have you ever thought of getting your own?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it.” She admitted, camera positioned back on her smiling face. “It might be nice to have some full time company and something to care for.”

“We should look into it when we get back.” (Y/N) suggested, wincing softly as she shifted to get more comfortable as she lounged on the couch.

“Maybe after the babies are born.” Georgeta shrugged lightly, “I don’t want to be tied down by dog until I know you are all settled in. You’ll need all the help you can get those first few weeks, I’ve already cleared up my schedule for the entire month of August and first few weeks of September.”

“You do not have to do that.” She sighed, hands rubbing along her belly to sooth the babies as they woke from their nap. “You have a life to. Don’t drop everything-”

“I can and I will.” The older woman interjected, sly smirk growing across her face. She’d always wondered where Sebastian inherited that fricken smirk and stubbornness from, now it all made sense. “I missed a lot of firsts with Theo, including his birth. I will make sure I’m around for the birth of my first granddaughters. You’ll accept my help whether you like it or not.”

(Y/N) felt tears well up in her eyes, the guilt rising steadily in her chest. She really couldn’t argue that. Both Georgeta and Sebastian had missed a lot of very important moments in Theo’s life and a part of her still blamed herself for it. Georgeta had been so good to her, so welcoming. She had, not once, held that time of their lives against her but instead worked hard to immerse herself in their lives and make up for all that she missed.

“Oh, Miere.” Georgeta cooed, a small pout on her lips. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. You didn’t make me upset.” She choked out, bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. “You’re just so good to me. Thank you so much for everything, Georgeta. I have no idea what I’d do without you.” She paused, wiping furiously at her cheeks. “You—you’ve done so much for us and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“(Y/N).” She replied softly, a genuine smile spread across her lips. “I love you as my own. You make my son so happy and love him for who he is. You’ve given me a grandson and soon.” She grinned, “Two granddaughters. I should be the one thanking you. You owe me nothing. I’m so happy to have you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but cry harder at her kind words, barely managing out a choked, “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

It didn’t help that hormones were all over the place these days. One minute she was crying over a stain on her shirt from when she’d spilled some tomato sauce during dinner, then raging on Sebastian for stealing the covers in the middle of the night, the next. She was so tired—beyond exhausted. The babies rarely settled to let her get comfortable for a full night's rest, her feet and back were aching and sore, she was nesting harder than she ever had before, in a place that wasn’t their home, now that she was less than a month away from delivering, and her breasts were painfully full. All she really wanted to do was sleep, eat, and cry.

Everyone around her took it in stride but (Y/N) felt like a useless burden. She didn’t want them to feel as if they had to walk on eggshells around it but she could tell they were.

Sebastian had been working so hard to make sure they wrapped filming before the babies arrived. Staying longer most days so he could film his scenes sooner so they could return to the comfort of their home in NYC. He didn’t want to risk the prolonging of shooting, he wasn’t at all prepared for (Y/N) to deliver their babies in Atlanta. Fortunately, the rest of the cast—specifically Anthony, and the production team and crew were on board. All of them, selflessly, working overtime to finish with Sebastian so he could take his paternity leave.

Her parents, on the other hand, dealt with the brunt of her mood swings. She felt she didn’t deserve them, not when she was snapping at her mother for something so minor or crying into her father’s chest over the slightest inconvenience. They’d dropped everything to be down here to help. They picked up the slack when she had no energy, sending her to nap while they cared for and entertained Theo, cooked meals, or did the laundry.

Eventually (Y/N) managed to get herself under control and her emotions in check. She chatted with Georgeta for a few more minutes, updating her on the progression of her pregnancy, how their boys and her parents were all doing. The older let her know that she’d been checking up on the apartment, watering the plants, and even cleaned the sheets in preparation for their return. (Y/N) made sure to thank her profusely before Georgeta had to go as she was meeting a few friends from her book club for lunch. They ended the call with a promise to check in tomorrow, as they usual, since they’d been gone.

—————

A little while later, once the sun was no longer at its peak and the heat of Georgia had settled significantly, (Y/N) had joined Theo and her parents at the private pool.

At first, she had felt extremely insecure in her two piece, strapless swimwear, protruding belly and stretch marks on full display, but was beyond relieved to find it empty, save for themselves. She knew it shouldn’t bother her, her lover had assured her he still found her breathtakingly beautiful and could hardly keep his hands (or his cock) to himself as time passed and her tummy grew bigger.

Sebastian still wanted her, and that is all that should matter. And she made sure to remind herself of that as she ventured out in the swimsuit.

All worries and concerns seemed to vanish as soon as she sunk into the cool water. She’d had a pretty good day, having gathered enough energy, after a late afternoon nap, to actually cook dinner and even baked the banana chocolate chip muffins Anthony had been so adamant to try.

“Look at you go.” (Y/N) cheered, a radiant smile across her face as Theo doggy peddled in her direction. The grin he wore was nothing short of pleased and his blue eyes were as wide as saucers. He looked so much like Sebastian at this moment, it made her heart clench in her chest. “You’re doing so good, baby. Keep going.”

The toddler quickened his pace, swimming eagerly into her awaiting arms and she didn’t hesitate to scoop him up, as best as she could, showering him with lots of proud kisses and a tight squeeze.

“That was amazing, my love.” He giggled feebly, wrapping his arms around her neck and pushing his face into her soaked locks. “I think that was the best doggy peddling I’ve ever seen.”

Before the three year old had a chance to respond, two familiar bodies ran full force through the pool gate and cannon balled straight into the pool.

“Daddy.” Theo screeched, leaping from her arms in the direction of Sebastian’s head as it surfaced the water. “Daddy!”

“Hey, bubs.” He grinned, rubbing his hands down his face to extract the water from his eyes. He met the tot halfway, encouraging him with open arms to finish his trek. Once he was within reaching distance, he grasped his waste, tossing him up in the air with a loud roar before catching him and clutching him tightly to his chest. “Did you have a good day? I missed you so much.”

“Yeah.” Theo exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his neck, giggling loudly when his father pressed a few kisses to his round cheeks. “Missed you too.” He mumbled, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

It didn’t last long before Anthony was swooping in, snatching the three year old right out Sebastian’s arms, “Hey, little dude.” Mackie beamed, wearing a wicked grin as he tossed him into the air in the same way that his father just had.

(Y/N)’s heart melted at the interaction between the three of them, a brilliant smile etched permanently across her face, that seemingly grew with each of Theo’s giggles and squeals.

She was so distracted watching Anthony skim the tots' little body across the top of the water, she hadn’t even noticed Sebastian’s attention shift onto her until she felt his toned chest pressed to her back and strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

“Hello, dragul meu.” He whispered, voice low and husky, as he trailed kisses along her bare shoulder. She relaxed back into his embrace, his fingers brushing soothingly along her belly. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.” She sighed, eyes slipping shut as he continued to explore her abdomen and waist, as if he’d spent months away and needed to reacquaint himself with her body. “How was work?”

“Good.” He spun her around in his embrace, planting a quick but loving kiss on her lips. “Went by really fast.” His nose brushed along her cheek, hands already working to massage and loosen any knots or built-up tension in her lower back. “And how are you, gorgeous?” He asked, between little pecks to her cheeks and forehead. “You seem to have a bit more energy today.”

“I do.” She bit down on her lip to suppress her bashful smile. “I even made dinner and baked-” She gave a sideways glance to Anthony, voice loud and clear, “banana chocolate chip muffins.”

“What?” Mackie gasped, darks eyes wide and wild as he scanned the area, almost as if they’d appear at any given moment, out of thin air. It didn’t matter that’d he been somewhat ease dropping on their conversation, his focus remained solely on the muffins, completely ignoring Sebastian’s amused chuckle. “Where are they? I’ve waited so long to try one.”

“Right here, dear.” (Y/M/N) called from her spot at a patio table. She placed her book in her lap, lifting the plate of freshly baked muffins with a warm smile.

Mackie gasped, already making his way to shallow end of the pool with Theo on his hip. “What do you say, little man? Wanna eat some muffins with Uncle Mackie?”

Sebastian turned his attention back to the woman in his arms, wearing a lopsided grin. “You just made his entire week.” He paused shaking his head with a snort. “Maybe even his entire year.”

“That was the goal.” She giggled, bowing her head to hide the blush rising to her cheeks until he hooked his index finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up to meet his adorning gaze causing her face to grow even hotter.

“I love you.” He whispered, a content sigh slipping from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut, forehead pressed gently against her own and hands resting on either side of her hip. “You know that?”

“I love you too.” She mumbled, the ghost of a smile resting on her lips, nimble fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. “I missed you so much today.”

“Oh my God.” Anthony moaned loudly, conveniently interrupting their little moment. “If heavan we’re a muffin, this would be it.”

There was a brief moment of silence and Sebastian connected their lips in a tender, slow kiss.

“Hey, (Y/N)” Mackie called causing (Y/N) to draw back from the kiss. Sebastian growled in annoyance as he attempted to chase her lips but failed to capture them. “I’m gonna marry you, okay? You’ll come with me and you can cook whatever you’d-”

“Not if I marry her first.” The man in front of her interjected, chest puffed out and hard glare trained on his friend standing at the edge of the pool with a muffin in each hand.

“Yeah, right.” Anthony doubled over with a loud laugh, slapping his fists against his thighs. “You don’t got the balls, Stan. Besides,” He shot (Y/N) a subtle wink, sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I asked her first and who wouldn’t want a taste of this-”

“No one cares about that-”

“We all know ladies can resist my charm-”

“I’m the father of three of her kids-”

(Y/N) suppressed a giggle as she heaved herself up the stairs of the pool, beckoning Theo and her mother over.

“I’m captain America-”

“I have a metal arm-”

With one hand holding a towel around her waist, she took the toddler’s hand, guiding him beside her as she waddled inside after her mother.

—————

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#sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years

Text

Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

------------------------------

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades.

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

------------------------------

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

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believeitseeitdoit · 3 years

Text

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

“Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

“Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

“SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

“Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

“So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

“Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

“You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

“I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery. As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

“And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.”

As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

“Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

“Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

“Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first.

Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

“Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle.

You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

“Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

“Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

“Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

“My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll @iraot @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim @thebescht @makbarnes

#stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #parent Bucky #parent steve

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mrwinterr · 3 years

Text

Over & Over

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Pornstar!Female Reader

Summary: You’re an up-and-coming adult film star secretly eager to work with the popular Bucky Barnes, and with just the right connections, your paths cross much sooner than later.

Warnings: Adult themes. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration and instructional fingering, oral [male & female receiving], size kink, spit & cum play, a smudge of male dominance), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: I don’t know how the porn industry works; this was just written for fun.

Title Inspiration: “Over & Over” by Smallpools

A/N: After doping up on strong painkillers wasn’t enough, I thought releasing endorphins would help ease my headache, so once again watching porn inspired another fic. Idk. I’m a mess. Enjoy!

Slipping on your oversized sunglasses, you walk along the rectangular outline of the hotel’s lavish pool, to one of the vacant lounge chairs next to the redheaded goddess, whose wings you were taken under and could gratefully call a close friend. You hadn’t known a single soul when you packed up and moved west to Los Angeles at 18, but you knew you were destined for more than what your humdrum life back at home could offer.

The porn industry wasn’t your first choice at a career in entertainment, but the starving profession wasn’t paying the bills fast enough. You weren’t going to survive in L.A. another year juggling to pay for tuition and stay enrolled in acting school from the income of working menial jobs and booking small gigs. However, one minor role as an extra in a one-night stand sex scene of a TV show, you catch the eye of the multitalented adult film actress Natasha Romanoff.

It was pure coincidence she was also casted, playing a bigger role, of the same episode, but she saw more in you in your less than 15 seconds of fame than most casting agents did before offering you a chance to shadow her. You knew she looked familiar and you were no stranger to watching porn, but when you’re as down on your luck as you were, you went all in and soon enough countless scenes now under your belt within a year, you’re porn’s best female newcomer.

“There’s this year’s Best New Starlet!” Natasha proclaims loudly for almost everyone around to hear.

Lucky for you, the shades conceal the roll of your eyes at her comment as you kick off your flip-flops and remove the thin cover up to reveal your skimpy bikini. You dare look over at her in time to catch her mocking reaction, jaw dropped from your attitude.

“After all I’ve done for you,” she says, placing a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

The pair of you laugh at your nonsense and after she helps you with applying the appropriate amount of sun care protection, you recline in your seats and attempt to soak up some sun. It was a much-needed break with the long stressful week of the award show now behind everyone. Your hard work had paid off and after all you did learn from the best.

Your predecessor before you, Natasha was also a former Best New Starlet, and now is a household name in pornography. She didn’t welcome a lot of people into her inner circle, but she had plans to one day direct and knew she had to find the next big thing before anyone else to take her place.

“Hello, ladies,” comes from the voice of this year’s Director of the Year and other close friend Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey Wanda,” you greet her by sitting up to give her a proper hug.

You met her through her twin brother, Pietro, who happened to be your first co-star and was very welcoming and caring to you. The twins took care of you during your first few months starting out. Much like Natasha did for you, you help her administer the same amount of sunscreen on her body.

“Congrats on your achievement,” she says wholeheartedly, looking over her shoulder at you as you finish up on her back, and even under the heat of the sun, she could still see the blush creep up on your face.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Natasha comments casually, to which Wanda nods enthusiastically, only speeding up the process of the rose tints on your cheeks to spread all over your face. They were your biggest fans and supporters; you were so happy you could make them proud.

“I owe it all to the queen herself,” you say, downplaying your achievement and turning the attention to your mentor in Natasha. She scoffs at that and teases you about just taking the damn compliment. You put in the work; it was all you.

“Seriously, you deserved it,” Wanda says honestly, and you finally accept the praise.

“So, what’s next for miss Director of the Year?” Natasha asks leaning on a propped elbow, body facing towards you and Wanda.

“Well, I managed to finally book Bucky Barnes in an upcoming project…” she starts out, but the moment you heard his name slip from her lips, the rest almost didn’t matter.

Bucky Barnes was somewhat of a legend. There wasn’t a model or director that didn’t want to work with him. The man was downright gifted in every aspect and his work speaks for itself. Before you broke onto the scene, you’d gotten off to his videos, and only dreamed of one day starring in a scene with him, but you were still new to this world.

As a promising star, you had a long way to go and tons of plots, positions and people to still experience, so landing a role with someone like Bucky Barnes wasn’t entirely written in your plans any time soon. Then again, your first girl-on-girl scene was with your mentor herself, so anything could happen, right?

“I just haven’t found my girl yet,” was the next thing you pick up Wanda say the moment your head comes back from the clouds, “...I have all this momentum now that I want this to blow everyone away, especially Stark.”

Tony Stark was her rival. It was a friendly competition amongst friends. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work for him yet. He was a playful character and had directed some of the best adult films out there, Wanda just happened to be the better of the two this year…

“Sorry, I’m retired,” Natasha reminds her and repositions herself on her back.

“Fuck you,” Wanda says playfully to which Natasha responds with a finger in the air before she clarifies, “I was hinting at this year’s Best New Starlet…” and slyly looking in your directly.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. Your head can’t even start processing that you’re finally getting the opportunity to work with Bucky.

Wanda rolls her eyes at your obliviousness, “no, last year’s Best New Starlet. Hell no! Of course, you!” You respond in the same manner as your mentor, who is more than amused at you also following her lead, and flip Wanda off. Wanda snatches your hand to bring it away from her face, “I’m serious!”

“I-I don’t know, Wan,” a part of you is a little scared that you’re not going to be able to keep up with someone as established and with the star power as Bucky, “...like you said, you have all this momentum behind you. I don’t want to fuck this scene up because I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Natasha pipes up on the other side of you. “This is the perfect role for you!” She sees the questionable look on your face and sighs before explaining. “You’re a fresh face and rising star! People are lining up to book you, Stark included.”

“Nat is right. You’re a hot commodity now! I need someone who is a little inexperienced to mix with someone that is,” Wanda further explains her premise, “let him take the lead, but at your pace. I need it to be raw and passionate. People love that shit!” They were right, he had all the experience, and you were a fresh loveable face. It was the perfect combination.

You remain quiet for several seconds before Natasha rats you out, “and don’t even try to act like you don’t want to work with Barnes. This is your fantasy come to life.” Way to throw you under the bus like that…

There’s no denying your goal to work with him. He’d been in this business much longer than you had, you didn’t think your paths would ever cross on a set, but the opportunity couldn’t have presented itself in a more perfect point in your career.

The room is very pristine. White walls with a king size bed, also adorned in white sheets, fluffy pillows scattered at the top, minimal furniture around to make it look realistic, and the lighting was just right. Wanda had received a hefty budget after her recognition that’s for sure.

“Alright, girly, let’s get you on the bed!” Wanda happily directs.

You nod silently, remove your footwear and plop down on the center of the large mattress. You decide to leave your legs sprawled on one side of your body, settling on a bashful position. It’s not hard for you because although you agreed to do this and have done several scenes, internally, you’re freaking the fuck out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s all part of your charm; the innocence you somehow still radiated was an all too endearing quality and actually sexy.

Even your attire was pretty modest, opting for a more casual look with black leggings and a tight long sleeve that accentuates your figure and shows off the right amount of cleavage. It was something that you could easily wear out in public, which again was a part of your brand in being as natural as possible, but come the right circumstances, when it was time to roll you could turn on the right switch.

“We’ll start off like a typical casting interview before we bring Bucky in and then we’ll go from there. Sounds good?” She runs down the plan with you, fixing a few strands of flyaway hairs on your head before back away from the bed. With a thumbs up and a smile from you, she starts recording.

“Welcome, Best New Starlet of the Year!” Wanda greets from behind the camera.

“Hi,” you politely reply with your signature sweet smile and a wave to the screen.

These scenes start off with a small interview recounting your tale into the porn industry leading up to your recent achievement and even delving a bit into your personal life before the topic changes to your co-star.

“So, how excited are you to work with Bucky today?”

No matter how hard you practiced at keeping a straight poker face, that was something you were unable to master from Natasha, and the blush couldn’t be contained.

Fidgeting at the hem of your top, you open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. You’re overly flustered at the thought of Bucky and he wasn’t even in front of you yet. You don’t want to sound like a fool and ruin the atmosphere. Wanda mouths words of advice from where she sat in the director’s chair, “be honest.”

“Um, I’m...nervous,” you say truthfully.

“Nervous?” She questions, urging you to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s Bucky Barnes! He’s hot and he’s got so much experience. I’m kind of scared I’ll be boring,” you finish explaining and hope to God that Natasha doesn’t kill you afterwards, or with that answer let Wanda down, but the smile on her face sends you a wave of assurance.

Maybe you could do this...

Earlier that day, Bucky had already recorded his little opening scene. Wanda had called him to report on set before you were scheduled to arrive.

On the contrary, Bucky was also a tab bit anxious to work with you. He’d seen some of your work and more so heard about your talent from his own best friend, Steve Rogers.

He didn’t deny it, he was very much attracted to you and he wanted a chance to work with you too. Bucky wasn’t a jealous person, which made working in the porn industry easy for him, but when he had to hear Steve recount his scenes with you, he couldn’t help but want to sock his own childhood friend. He didn’t of course, but the rage was evident and his other friend, Sam Wilson, took some sick pleasure in teasing him over it. In fact, the eccentric personality of the trio of friends, decided to tag along with Bucky to introduce himself to you and get under his skin a little more.

“What’s going on in that nasty head of yours?” Sam poked at Bucky as they made their way over to Wanda, who was by the camera setup going over a script with another stagehand. When Bucky doesn’t respond, it provokes Sam even more, “no way, you’re nervous!”

Bucky sighs fed up with dealing with the anxiety brewing ever since he found out he was going to star in this film with you. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Of course, I’m nervous,” he says, trying to remain calm.

“Dude, you’ve slept with some of the hottest people in the world and millions of people have seen you naked. Why is one girl any different?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know, ok. She just seems so down-to-earth and normal?” Bucky attempts to explain. You were real. His work was just that, it was a work, and he was afraid that it would be different with you. He could say he was almost intimidated by you.

“Yeah, as if I don’t have to hear that enough from Rogers…” Sam chimed in. Steve had nothing but high praise for your performance. In fact, his testimony helped expose you a little further. He was an honorable performer and a respected one, so they took his word on you. “Maybe, I’ll be her next co-star,” and just like that Sam ruined a moment.

“God, I hate you,” was the last thing exchanged between the two friends as they finally reached Wanda. She warned Sam to behave and gave Bucky a quick rundown before instructing him to hop on the bed.

Bucky’s interview starts a little differently than yours. Having already been a more established performer than yourself, no one needed his background story. The only thing Wanda wanted out of him was his plans and opinion on you.

“Well, I don’t know too much about her, personally speaking...but everyone seems to love her,” Bucky’s answer was a bit bland for Wanda.

“She’s a great person to work with,” she comments and that’s a tactic most directors used to get talent to keep talking.

“That’s what Steve keeps saying,” he says with somewhat of an awkward light laugh. He could see Sam facepalming next to Wanda at that lame answer.

“Yeah, you don’t win best female newcomer for nothing,” Wanda points out. If anyone was the lucky one here, it was Bucky. He was climbing up in age and you were the next big thing. You were the real star of this film not Bucky. She was counting more on you to deliver than him.

“That’s right. She’s a very talented performer,” Bucky says, and this small comment opens up a can of worms for Wanda to build up on.

“Oh, so you’ve seen some of her work?” Bam! He was caught.

Bucky’s mouth starts twitching slightly and Wanda and Sam are smirking from their spots as they watch the gears in Bucky’s mind start turning faster trying to think of something. The only piece of advice Wanda gives is “be honest.”

He sighs, the jig was up. Smooth Bucky Barnes was caught red-handed, “yeah, I’ve watched some scenes. I’ve seen her in person a few times too…”

“Wait,” Wanda interrupts him abruptly. She knew you were attracted to Bucky, but never knew of any encounters between you two, “when did you meet her?”

“I haven’t,” Bucky starts, which causes a look of mass confusion on Wanda’s face before he follows up, “formally. I haven’t met her formally, but I’ve seen her at a few parties and at the award show...I was just nervous to walk up to her,” the words just kept flowing out of his mouth and he inwardly cringed at how awkward he might’ve sounded.

Sam was amused by his embarrassment, but Wanda was pleased with this result. Bucky was good at what he did and that included him trying to play it cool, which he did well on screen, sometimes.

“You know she was actually thrilled to find out she would be working with you,” Wanda said, stretching the truth. The truth was, you hadn’t verbally confessed that, at least not yet.

“Really?” Bucky asks all too hopeful, his mood noticeably perking up.

“Yup! Ever since she won Best New Starlet of the Year, people have been lining up to book her, but she chose this project. You were the deal breaker, Barnes,” she fabricated and hoped this all worked out for you two in the end.

“Wow, who would’ve thought this has-been still had it in him?” He jokes at himself. His humility would get the best of him in every situation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You didn’t win Best Male Performer of the Year again for nothing!” Wanda says and then steers the interview to a close.

After wrapping up Bucky’s scene, he’s allowed to stay in another room with a monitor. At first, he thinks it’s to help him prep for the scene, but to his surprise it’s a live feed of your interview and he starts clinging onto your every word. Enthralled by your journey, work ethic and he gets flustered all over again hearing you talk about your equal eagerness to work with him.

“You know, if anyone is the lucky one in this situation, it’s Barnes,” Wanda reminds as your interview comes to an end.

“Right,” you sarcastically remark.

“Are you ready for us to bring Bucky in?” She asks.

“It’s now or never,” you reply.

You watch the doorknob twist and the door open to slowly reveal Bucky. Where do you even start with him? He just looked like the total package. His gaze immediately on yours. As he makes his way towards the bed you’re still sitting on, when his knee comes in contact to the edge, you maneuver your body in his direction, sit up on your knees to meet him halfway and welcome him in a hug.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says when you pull apart. The both of you don’t break away completely. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, his hands placed just above your waist, you can feel his fingers that slipped under the fabric rub your skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you respond, giving him a genuine smile and can’t help but stare at his pretty face. You had to remind yourself he’s just another guy, except he wasn’t. You didn’t know how he felt, but you wanted this, wanted him. You also don’t know if you’ll ever work him again after today, so he was going to get the real you.

A small, subtle clearing of someone’s throat shatters the staring contest between you and Bucky causing you both to sheepishly break away from the other, not realizing you’d both allowed dreaded dead airtime to pass by. You scoot over to make room for him next to you on the bed. After he pulls his footwear off, he sits cross legged in front of you, you have one leg tucked in and the other extended in front.

Bucky’s not entirely oblivious. He not only witnessed you backstage reveal you were actually nervous to work with him, he could feel it, so at an attempt to help ease both your nerves, he places a hand on your shin and absentmindedly run his hand up and down the fabric, fingers sometimes stopping to mess with the cuff of your leggings and at the skin of your ankle, while he listened to you speak.

He congratulated you on your achievement as you did with him, both a blushing mess before diving into different topics like traveling and other interests.

Wanda stood proudly behind the camera watching the scene unfold. Everything was so candid and real between you and Bucky, the chemistry was clearly evident, she didn’t foresee there would be much directing on her part today, which was going to make her job easy.

“Wanda said you were excited to work with me,” Bucky teases, wanting to see if what you said was just for the cameras or if it was really true, but also, he found out he liked to see you get all hot and bothered in more than one way.

Your jaw drops and you look directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, calling out to Wanda. You playfully chastise and curse at her for revealing your secret. She tells you it was going to come out anyways, and while that was true, you’d hoped it was later and much after you’ve slept with him, hoping it doesn’t ruin the shoot, but Bucky assures you that it’s actually a flattering to hear or in his words, “assuring” for someone like him.

“Are you kidding?” You say, lightly shoving him back, “you’re like a legend! Of course, I was excited! I’m surprised you agreed to work with a rookie like me!” Now that the cat was out of the bag, you might as well own up to your secret.

“Everyone wants to work with you,” he makes clear, leaning in closer. Fuck, he didn’t even need to initiate foreplay because with the way he was looking at you right now, you could come swear you’d come undone for him in an instant.

“Oh really?” You challenge, your body gravitating like a magnet towards his.

“Yup, Steve wouldn’t shut up about you and even Sam said he can’t wait to someday work with you,” he said, voice slowly dropping in decibels and his hands sliding up your thighs.

“Did he?” You ask, but you don’t really care about Sam as your eyes look dead into Bucky’s blue ones, swirling into a darker shade full of deep want and desire.

“Yeah, but let’s see if he still wants to try to outdo me after I’m done with you,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between your lips in a sweet kiss. It was about as sweet as it could last because after just one taste of your lips, he was a starved man, hungry for more. You tried your best to match his pace and the kiss turned sloppy very quick.

You moaned at the pressure of his lips pressed roughly against yours, and you do your best to keep up, but you’re already finding yourself short of breath. However, the more you try to pull back to regain some oxygen, the more he’s unwilling to part as he grasps your face in both hands to keep you still, so you lightly squeeze at his biceps as a warning in hope he gets the message.

Lucky for you, he does and lets up. He’s also noticeably breathless, his warm breath fanning against your kiss-swollen lips, his forehead resting against yours. Bucky’s hands are still on your face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and you let out a small chuckle at the sincerity. He was cute.

You take his hands in yours and bring them back down to begin undressing him starting by helping him slip his shirt over his head, the fashionable dog tags around his neck clank as it slaps against his toned chest, you let him keep them on though.

Bucky sits up on his knees as he watches you settle on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, hands getting ready to work on his lower half. He patiently watches as you unbuckle his belt, pop the button of his jeans off, and drag the zipper down.

With his pants hanging loose off his hips, you begin to plant soft kisses along his navel down the defined lines that lead to his cock. Each contact of your lips sends a ghostly tingle and the blood to rush even quicker down his lower region. The imprint of his endowed member doesn’t leave much to your imagination, you can already see the stain where the tip is through his tight boxer briefs. It gives you a little boost of confidence knowing you’d caused this and would get to take care of it.

You hook your fingers into the undergarment and tug them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face causing you to jolt back a little and a smile to spread across Bucky’s.

Your clumsiness was also a part of your charm. It wasn’t on purpose, you were still learning after all, and that’s what made it so unique and fun to work with you. Your partners just felt a real, genuine connection, citing it felt less choreographed and of a porno with you.

A little embarrassed about that move, you’d watched what he can do with that cock, but nothing could’ve prepared you for it face-to-face. You don’t waste any time on getting your hands on him and wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock and start pumping him sensually.

He’s hot and soft in your hands before getting gradually heavy. The look in your eyes grows more predatory as you watch him grow and feel him getting harder with each pump causing more and more pre-cum to ooze out. You spread it all over the head of his cock with your thumb then daring to look up at him, hoping he was indeed enjoying your work, before you pucker your lips and kiss at the crown. Bucky curses when he sees your lips shining, coated in his pre-cum, with a string connecting you to his cock.

You gather the fluid up in your hand before spreading it all over his length, when it’s not enough you start not only pumping him faster, but also licking up and down, from the base to the tip, hoping to effectively slick him up. The way your tongue scrapes along over Bucky’s sensitive flesh stirs him up. Your other hand joins in to fondle with his neglected balls, massaging and pulling at them in the right moments, sometimes you travel a little south and take them in your mouth. It all but drives Bucky wild and it’s confirmed with each swear that leaves his mouth.

Bucky wants nothing more than to lodge himself deep in your throat, but he remembers he needs to go at your pace, and once you’re broken in a little more, you could follow his, so he’ll bide his time for now and watch you work.

When you’re ready to take him in, you regain his attention and he watches you slowly take in his inches down your mouth, stopping halfway before your wide-open mouth hollows out. Your full mouth immediately waters around him and it doesn’t take long before you’re a drooling mess all over his cock. You pull back torturously slow, looking back down watching his cock reappear and loving the way it disappears back in, and especially how it feels when it drags through your mouth, taking note of the veins and unique ridges.

“Don’t be like that, doll,” he says, wiping some of the hair away from your face, “come on and show me why they don’t stop talking about you,” he coaxes, now gathering some of your locks in his hand to completely give you both a clear view. He tries his best to not take the lead, but you don’t disappoint as your mouth works faster on him. The gagging and sucking, mixed with Bucky’s moans of pleasure soon become the soundtrack.

You’d gradually take him more and more in, close to deep throating him, and you’re just ready to let up, but he can’t help it and before your last round, he holds your head in place.

“Don’t quit now, baby,” he encourages you, placing his other hand on the back of your head, keeping you still and carefully starts to thrust his hips, urging you to take him all the way, “...that’s it, you can do it, you can take it,” he releases a big sigh feeling the tip of your nose bump his lower abdomen. The moisture builds up in the inner corner of your eyes and you do your best to mind your breathing and not choke.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but shout when he feels your throat contract around him. You just looked so divine, mouth full of his cock. He keeps you there for a few seconds, before releasing his hold, and you immediately pull back, drool dribbles down your chin, and you’re desperate for oxygen to return back into your system. He grabs your face by your chin forcing you to look up at him.

He uses his fingers to scoop up some of the mixed fluids of his arousal and your saliva at your chin before presenting it in front of you. You easily read his mind, look up at him with big, watery eyes, and take his coated digits in your abused mouth sucking the juices clean off him.

He growls and commends you, “...such a good girl.” When he slips his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop could faintly be heard, he gently yanks at your hair, craning your head back further, it’s almost painful but you don’t care, “do it again,” he demands.

You bite your lip and reposition yourself. Bucky settles in a more comfortable position on his back, completely rid of his pants and underwear, his legs spread open for you to lie between them. Before you get back to the job, you slip your tight top off, all-natural breasts spilling out and on display for him. His cock twitches at the sight and he lets his head fall back when he’s once more fully encased in the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

When he finally starts begging you to let up, you pull back slowly pumping him and watch his every move, the rise of his chest as it heaves from the activity, the way he runs his hands over his face. He’s absolutely stunned by your performance so far.

“On your back,” he says, and you do as he commands, and forget who is supposed to really be in charge. He yanks your leggings and panties all the way down, chucking them behind him somewhere in the corner of the room.

“You’re so sexy,” he compliments, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, hands getting their fill. His body dips, lips latching onto your breasts, kissing at the skin and sucking on each nipple before they make their way up the juncture of your neck and claim your lips again.

You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and they part to grant him full access. You barely notice how he takes a hold of one of your hands, he pulls his face away to bring the hand in his grasp up to your face, using your fingers to trace the outline of your lips. You see him inaudibly instruct you to open your mouth, you do as you’re told.

“That’s right get those fingers nice and wet,” he coaxes you to suck on your own digits until he deems you ready for the next move. When he finally does pull your fingers out from your mouth, he extends your arm, ghosting them just over your pussy.

“Play with that clit,” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice. Your pussy was begging for any kind of attention. You let your wet fingers roll over the bundle of nerves, puffs of breath escape your body as you’re finally attending to your own needs.

Bucky sits back and watches you intently, fascinated by your every move. He instructs you to close your eyes and listen to his voice, instructing you to go slow at first, “does that feel good?” the only reply he gets is a fast nod, “yeah? Make yourself feel good...that’s it,” his words only encourage your fingers to soon work faster, “let me hear how good it feels,” he demands, and you moan and whine like the true pornstar you are, your circular motions speed up, the lewd noises egg him on and soon enough he wants a taste.

“Let me help you out,” and you feel the bed shift a bit, “spread those wet lips for me,” he requests. You use both hands to invite him into your wet, glistening hole. You pick your head up to see his face buried between your thighs, you watch just long enough until each broad lick up and down your pussy sends you close to the edge.

He no longer needs the support of your hands, and they find purchase in his dark, fluffy hair as he starts sucking on your clit and tonguing your folds. At first, you’re doing a good job keeping your legs apart to accommodate him, but it gets harder and harder for them to not clamp around his head, with every nudge the tip of his nose makes at your clit and it doesn’t help your case when he inserts a finger inside you. With a good curl, his finger scratches dangerously close to your sweet spot, causing your legs to start quivering.

The sudden hitch in your breathing catches his attention, and Bucky tests the waters more by digging in deeper and curling in further. He notices the increasing agitation and knows he’s found the trigger.

“Bucky,” you whine, hoping he doesn’t push you over just yet. You want to last longer, and so you reluctantly attempt to scoot back further away, but the sudden strong grip he has around your leg locks you in place. You pick your head back up and find Bucky’s eyes trained on you. You see the stoic look in his eyes laced with determination. Oh no, he wanted you to come now. You feel a hum from his full mouth, only pushing you further.

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your pussy, “let go,” and the gruff in his voice, vibrating against you, his thick digits still curled deep inside you, you can’t hold back the floodgates from bursting any longer.

He laps up your arousal as you desperately try to regain composure. He really pulled one out of you, proving he was as every bit good as he put out and you’re not even close to the end of this scene.

“Come here,” he says, getting back on his knees and pulling you up by your arms so you’re in an up-right sitting position once again, but with Bucky still towering over you, “open up.”

You comply and open your mouth wide, tongue out, not understanding his motive, and you’re met with full surprise when he spits in your mouth, a firm grip on your face, he holds you still.

“Don’t swallow,” he gravely warns. You feel and probably look stupid not knowing what he wants you to do with your mouth open wide and full of his spit mingling with your arousal, just trying to keep it all contained. Bucky was testing your patience and obedience and you passed every test so far. You were just the right amount of submissive, absolutely perfect.

You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your sensitive pussy, it slides up between your folds and the base rests on top of your mound. “Drool it out...on my cock,” he instructs. Oh. He guides your gaze down between your bodies, you purse your lips, and both watch as the liquid cascades down onto his erect member. He uses it to lube himself up before he pushes you down to lie flat on your back.

Bucky slowly but easily slips inside your wet channel but notices your slight struggle. He was big, and he gets it. The way your eyes are tightly shut, hands pulling at the sheets, you struggle to breath and your walls cruelly grip him tight. Normally, he’d just pound away until his partner got used to him, but he didn’t want to do that with you. He wanted you to enjoy feeling him.

He tries to help you relax by rubbing your thighs a little with soothing motions, when they fall limp on either side, he leans down, you feel the cool metal of his dog tags against your heated skin, his weight sort of comforting on yours, and arms entrapping your head. He lovingly calls out your name, and your eyes flutter open, your attention refocusing on him.

“We’ll go at your pace, alright?” he assures you. You curse yourself for allowing your heart to swell at his concern, but you nod giving him permission to move slowly. Your whimpers soon transition into pleasurable moans, the more your body begins to adjust to his.

“Damn, you’re so tight. You’ve never been stretched out like this by anyone before have you?” he dares ask, once he sees it’s a safe playing field once more, his hips moving slow, his cock sliding in and out of you. You attempt at a laugh between your ragged breathing and the intense sensation coursing through you.

“No,” you respond and kiss at his chin, the light stubble pricking your soft lips, “you’re so big.” You feel his cock twitch inside and you want to curse yourself again at the comment that unintentionally riles him up because he was nestled close to your spot again. Fuck, he could reach just the right depth in you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you don’t want to go slow anymore. Fuck Wanda and this movie, you wanted all of Bucky now, “please fuck me,” you resort to begging. He inwardly growls and his hips start snapping forward, thrusts growing hard and uncalculated. You just lie there and allow him to use your pussy for his pleasure.

Bucky’s movements falter a bit in this position, so he steers both your bodies on their sides, still facing each other, he slings your leg high up over his hips, and resumes his task. His cock glides right back in your pussy and the new angle causes you to yelp and walls to clench around him.

“You feel so good,” his voice riddled with so much lust as he brings your body closer to his with a hand behind, full of your plushest asset. Your head rests on the bicep of his other arm that was underneath it.

Bucky’s expressive eyes ask you if you're close, and the more your walls continue to grip him, he starts begging for you to come with him. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, giving up and letting you take the rest of the lead.

“Yeah?” you huff out, your fingers digging into the side of his hips, “you want to cum inside me?” You know he does; you can feel and see it written all over him, but you want to just poke at him like he had with you, “I want you to...I want all your cum inside me, Bucky,” and you wanted him to cum hard, deep inside, “fill my tight pussy up, please,” you plead.

With one more jab of his hips, your back arches and head is thrown back, you can’t help but let out a scream as your orgasm rips right through you like it’s never before. Bucky’s body on the other hand caves into yours, feeling almost paralyzed as your tight walls hold him in place and all he can do is bury his face into the sweaty skin of your neck.

His mouth hangs open, a plethora of profanities coming out of him, and he waits for his cock to finish spewing ropes of his hot, thick cum into you. Your walls can’t help but to involuntarily contract in small aftershocks, especially when he’s still coming.

Bucky continues to moan as he does as you hoped, he came hard and deep inside you. When you’ve both finally come down from the high, it’s silent, and even though you’d both long forgotten you were on a set with multiple people watching you two, they were also quiet, completely taken back by the performance.

Incoherent cries come out of each of you, when Bucky agonizingly pulls his cock out. For the most part you’re able to keep him inside, but he’d proven to come so much some of it seeps out and runs down in streak fashion along your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

In your last act, as your gazes meet each other again, your fingers dip inside your soaked cunt and coat them. Hypnotized by you, Bucky watches as you greedily suck off his essence from your digits, and you evoke a small hum in his favor at the taste bursting in your mouth.

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, trying to not lose it again. When your hand disappears, he tenderly wipes the matted hair away from your face, smoothing your hair back before pulling your body close again, swooping your lips for a deep kiss.

“Shit, you’re good,” he admits, when he pulls away, effectively breaking the blissful silence. You bust out in a fit of giggles beside him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not something you’re supposed to feel towards your co-star, especially in the porn industry.

He smiles at you, basking in your afterglow and all he knows is that he wants to feel this high with you over and over, so he decides to risk it all, “I hope this doesn’t ruin the moment, but can I take you out some time?”

You try your best to read him, wondering if he was just still in the heat of the moment. Either he’s really good or he’s being sincere, you can’t tell and you’re hoping you’re not overthinking it, but his eyes, this whole time, were what gave him away. He performed with them and he definitely spoke through them.

Before you could accept and give him a definite answer, you’re both brought back to reality, “we’re still rolling here!” Wanda reminds.

A/N: Thank the pain meds for this. I think I effectively used up my vacation days the right way, won’t you agree? Likes, reblogs and comments/emojis are appreciated!

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