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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑋𝑋𝐼. 𝐼𝑁 𝐿𝑂𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐺𝑅𝐼𝑃 𝑂𝑁 𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑃𝑆, 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑊𝐸𝐷 𝑈𝑃 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XX — Chapter XXII

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, oral sex (f-rec), dirty talk, p in v sex, porn with feelings)

❧ Wordcount | ~8.8k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

When you're young, you just run, But you come back to what you need ( This Love | 1989 )

February 21, 2025

With more force than he meant to use, Bucky cursed under his breath and locked the door behind him. He hadn’t seen Maggie since his return to the city and he was entirely certain that it was purposeful—she’d been avoiding him. He’d heard her scrambling to enter her apartment as quickly as possible, on more than one occasion, anytime he began to leave his whilst she was in the hallway.

Leaving Sam’s, he somehow felt even more confused than he did when he’d arrived. Perhaps his plan had been flawed; using their rules, he’d gotten burned. Maybe deep down a part of him knew how she felt, that she liked him, and maybe that was what had really scared him. Of course, he never wanted to see her name printed in the tabloids, but it had been something more.

No one had ever liked him for him. Steve had become his friend when he’d become the younger man’s protector, Sam and he had become friends due to circumstance, but Maggie? She didn’t have to give him a second chance after their first real meeting, but she had, and his world hadn’t been the same since.

She didn’t like him because he had anything to offer, or as reciprocation for something that he’d done—for the first time that he could remember, she liked him for who he was. She didn’t care about his past and all that he’d done before they knew one another, she didn’t care that he was a little rough around the edges or that he could get grumpy; she only cared for him, but what had he given her in return?

Heartbreak.

Through thick walls, he’d only heard one piece of her muffled conversation with Sam in Louisiana, and he wished that he’d heard her answer. Did she feel bad that she wanted to move on or because she wanted to move on with him? Had she seen a future with him too?

For so many years, he never let himself look that far ahead. What was the point when he didn’t know what would become of him? A soldier, an assassin, a fugitive. He allowed himself to plan for days, not months, and certainly not years, but with Maggie? He wanted decades, millennia, eons—if he was with her, he’d be content to live out their years together and see the death of the sun.

As long as he had her, nothing else mattered.

And maybe he had had her for a moment, but then he’d allowed their kindling flame to burn out. He’d never admit it, but Sam was right—he’d been fucking stupid and now she was gone. Maybe not completely, but she was out in the hall, kissing some yuppie while he was only a few feet away behind a closed door. It should’ve been him that she was kissing.

Ripped away from his thoughts, there were three solid knocks on the front door. Staring at the wood, he wished he could see through to the other side, but it was unnecessary; there was no question who his unexpected guest was. What did she want? Was it about his staring? Or perhaps she wanted to complain that he’d scared her date away—the possessive part of Bucky liked the sound of that.

He didn’t know the guy but Bucky knew she deserved better than him too.

Working his jaw, he finally mustered up the courage to unlock the door, opening it only wide enough for her to see his entire frame. She looked beautiful, like if February had been given a face; a cream sweater, a woolen red, plaid skirt that looked so soft, he yearned to touch. The translucent claret paint that always graced her plush lips was present and…unsmeared.

So, she hadn’t kissed that Wall Street asshole. That was a win in his book.

Maggie allowed her eyes to drift over him as he waited for her to speak, and the sight infuriated her; his expression was so carefully blank, and she wanted to scream. Every emotion felt as if it had been dialed up to twenty—she was happy he was home safely because she thought that maybe he’d been away on some secret mission, furious because he’d left without a word for the second time since she knew him, terrified that maybe he’d disappeared forever to cut ties with her, and thoroughly, deeply in love with him.

All of that swirled in her mind, yet the only thing she was able to blurt out was a somewhat accusatory observation, “You left.”

He looked tired—the shadow of the dark circles under his eyes hedged the border from indigo to blue and his face looked gaunt. She just wanted to take it in her hands and see if he was okay.

“I had work stuff.” His words were unnecessarily clipped.

Crossing her arms, she was cognizant to not let the relief that swept over her show. So, it wasn’t exactly a mission, but at least he hadn’t been with his girlfriend. The bile in her throat receded. She knew she didn’t have a right to be upset; he wasn’t hers anymore—maybe he had never been to begin with. Never knowing how to leave well enough alone, she pushed with the barest hint of hurt, “And you couldn’t have told me?”

Clenching his fist at his side, he took a deep breath; he’d abandoned her in more ways than one. Was there a trophy for ‘Asshole of the Year?’ Because, if there was, he was almost certain that he’d be in the running for first place.

Curtly, he pointed out, “Well, we weren’t really talking.”

‘Don’t say it. Leave it alone. It’s not your business anymore.’

Ignoring the pointed voice in his head, he continued with a barely masked look of disdain that somehow bordered on ambivalence, “Besides, looks like you were out on a date, anyway.”

As he moved to shut the door, she promptly shoved her pump-clad foot in its path to block it as she clarified incredulously, “Nick?”

Even if she had been out, what did it matter? He had a girlfriend; Maggie wasn’t his problem anymore. So, what if she wanted to date? He’d made it very clear that he wanted that—just not with her. Even so, it’s like she felt the need to overexplain herself as she added, “He’s my ex—we were just catching up. We hadn’t seen each other in over a decade.”

With an annoyed huff, she continued to chastise him, “And we are way past that, James.”

He frowned; she’d used his full name, and they definitely weren’t having sex, which meant she was probably pissed. Rightfully so.

“That whole silent treatment thing doesn’t work for us.” She gestured between their bodies at the abstract concept; was there even a ‘them’ anymore?

“Maggie—”

Despite his attempt to cut in, though he didn’t even know what he wanted to say, she ignored him and continued, “You can’t just leave like that!” Cursing the way that her hands shook and how she cried when she got upset, Maggie swiped away some of the hot tears on her cheeks as she pushed past him into his slightly barren apartment, “Look, I know that whatever the fuck this was, meant more to me than it did to you but—”

His brow furrowed, “What?”

Bulldozing on, Maggie rounded on him and jabbed a finger into the firm muscle of his chest as he closed the door behind her, “—it’s not fair for you to just up and disappear and leave me here with no clue as to where you were, or if you were okay, again!”

That was a fair reprimand. Giving her an extra beat, waiting to see if she had anything left to add, Bucky’s voice was low as he responded to the single comment that had bothered him most during her verbal flagellation, “You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow. It made her furious, how his expression was so calm, like he had the whole world figured out.

Repeating himself, he shrugged, “You’re wrong.”

Clenching her fists, Maggie ignored the stinging as her painted nails dug painfully into her slightly sweaty palms. ‘Say it, just say it.’ She had nothing left to lose—well, nothing except him—but if she didn’t tell him, then he was as good as lost to her anyway.

“Look, I like you, Bucky. And, even if you don’t want me the same way, you’re still one of my best friends.” Swallowing her pride, and the lump in her throat, she held his glacial eyes that seemed to be thawing, “You’re still one of the only people that I have left in this stupid fucking world, and I can’t lose you too.” Willing the tears away, she started carefully, averting her eyes, “I know you’re seeing someone else—”

There it was.

Flinching, he accepted the blow. He couldn’t do it anymore—he couldn’t let her believe that there was someone else when there was only her. He regretted ever telling her that in the first place. Maybe the road to hell really had been paved with good, but misguided, intentions. Cutting her off, he bit the bullet and finally admitted the truth, “I’m not.”

“You…” Faltering, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other as her brain struggled to compute the simple two-word sentence. Crossing her arms uncomfortably, she huffed and quietly reaffirmed, “You’re not?”

Shaking his head, his voice was quiet as he clarified, “I never was.”

Brows drawn together, making a tiny wrinkle between them, she could only stare. Not only was he not seeing anyone else, he never had been in the first place. That didn’t make sense. Because, if he was telling the truth now, that meant that he’d lied before—and why would he have lied to her?

Feeling her face flush even more, Maggie felt slightly embarrassed, but she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why. Maybe it was the relief that he hadn’t been with anyone else, or because she’d been jealous of a figment of her imagination, but whatever it was made her chest constrict as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together unsuccessfully.

“But why—”

Raising his voice just slightly, like he was trying to silence her, or end the conversation all together, Bucky spoke over the tail end of her question defeatedly, “You deserve someone better than me, Maggie.”

December 18, 2024

Support group sessions at the Veterans Affairs office were his least favorite part of the week. It wasn’t like anyone could share his experience, so why did he even bother attending? All of the other Winter Soldiers were dead—Zemo had made certain of that with Siberia and again, with the explosion after the attempted GRE vote—so, it wasn’t like there was a slew of people running around with the super soldier serum coursing through their veins.

The short, older man who ran the group had finally dismissed them for the afternoon. Using one of the wooden stirrer sticks, he waited for the packet of sugar to dissolve into the darkness of his lukewarm coffee; the thin paper cup had done a poor job at insulating the liquid. Before he saw them, he heard a person approaching from behind. Suddenly, a tall, slender woman with straw blonde hair appeared by his side.

Following a similar routine to him, she poured the bitter, burnt coffee from the carafe into a cup. Sitting it down on the table, she added the barest splash of cream, hardly changing the color at all and brought it to her lips. Though she was bundled in a heavy, puffer coat and plaid scarf now, he easily recognized her from earlier. She’d been sitting nine spots to his left in the circle.

Turning to face him, she gave him a long look with black cat-lined, hazel-brown eyes before asking with a quiet, alto voice, “Barnes, right?”

“Bucky.” He corrected and offered her a hand, the gloved vibranium one carefully wrapped around his coffee cup. He’d introduced himself at the beginning of each session, the same way, every time since he’d begun attending.

'Barnes. Army. I was a P.O.W. for a few years,’ That was definitely an understatement, ‘Now I’m just trying to get back to normal.’

It was innocuous enough that it didn’t garner questions or any unwanted attention; he was just biding his time in the group until he could cease his attendance.

“Elizabeth Van Patten.” Her grasp was soft, like a barely-there touch as she shook his hand. There was a certain confidence that she easily emanated as she stood beside him, her posture perfect and her arched brows giving a constant look of skepticism while her lips were twisted into a little smirking smile like she knew something that no one else did. “I know this might be a little forward, but I’ve seen you around here a lot, you’re cute, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get some actual good coffee sometime.”

She held up the coffee cup with an expression of disgust; the way her nose wrinkled reminded him of Maggie though two women couldn’t have been more different.

“Oh, uh,” Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he awkwardly declined her offer, “Thanks but I’m…seeing someone.”

That’s what they were doing, wasn’t it? Their rule had been that they’d stop their arrangement if they found someone else that they wanted to be with. He didn’t want to be with anyone except Maggie, so it was simple, really.

“Oh.” Taken aback, there was a slightly surprised look on her model-esque, angular face. She was beautiful—that was an objective fact—but there was just one problem. She wasn’t Maggie. Maybe she wasn’t used to being turned down; there was almost a sense of arrogance as she gave a half-shrug, “Well, let me know if that ever changes.”

The jazzy rhythm of a ringtone shattered the quiet ambience of the mostly empty room, and he pulled the small, silver flip phone from his pocket. A little, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Speak of the devil. It was Maggie’s ringtone that she’d set for herself at some point, so he’d always know when it was her calling.

Taking a few steps backwards towards the door, he shook his head as he flipped it open, his finger hovering over the green button with the smile still on his lips, “Sorry, I don’t think it will.”

February 21, 2025

She could only stare at him for several seconds, dumbfounded as the weight of his words fell upon her. Her shoulders fell with the weight as she searched for words, coming up only with a whispered, “What?”

With his jaw set, she could see the vein on the side of his neck protrude as he crossed the living room, needing space for just a moment. He couldn’t think when she was around; it was like she made every rational thought in his mind disappear and replaced all of them with her presence. She was dangerous.

There was a dark look that cast a shadow over his exhausted face as he looked at her in defeat, “I’m fucking broken and still trying to pick up all the goddamn pieces. I don’t know who I am or what the fuck I want, but I know that I can’t be Steve.”

The way he spat the last four words made it feel like she’d been struck by shrapnel from some ticking time-bomb.

There was a piece of Maggie that hurt for him because he wasn’t broken—not in the slightest, no matter what he thought. Like her, Bucky was bumped and bruised from all of the hits that the world had landed on him, but she loved every imperfection they’d left behind. She loved him because, not despite. She loved him, just as she’d been loved before.

Beneath the hurt was a ghost of offense; at his statement, she began playing back every memory she had of him. She’d been so careful to never compare him to Steve—not aloud at least. But had she allowed those mental parallels that she’d drawn affect him? Had she hurt him and had no clue all the while?

Unable to look at him though she could feel his eyes burning her, she tugged at her fingers as she whispered weakly, “You thought that’s what I wanted?”

“You were going to marry him!” Running a hand through his cropped hair, he gave a stilted shrug, like something had been set in stone that he was powerless to change.

“I know.” She got out severely as her eyes shot back to his and she pressed her lips together to stop herself from snapping further. Measuring each careful breath, she tried to speak without crying any more than she already had. The subject was far less painful than it once had been but there was still some residual sting that had been left behind.

“Trust me, I know I was.” With several slow steps, she approached him, holding his eyes, and waiting for him tell her to stop. Her voice was soft, like if she was any louder, she’d shatter something fragile, “I wouldn’t trade those years for anything, but I had to let him go, Bucky. And the only reason I was able to do it was because of you.”

It was like their own grief had alleviated the other's; sharing the burden had lightened the load. As he stared at her, there was something deep in his eyes that was pained.

Even if it was useless, even if he didn’t love her back, even if there wasn’t anyone else, she had to get everything off of her chest now before she could talk herself out of it again.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, she took his and touching him felt like coming up for air after being underwater for so long that her lungs had begun to hurt as they struggled to survive; it was bracing and beautiful and he made her feel like she could breathe again, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wanted you to be him; I don’t.” Shrugging, it felt like her heart was wide open as her watery eyes stayed trained on him and she whispered earnestly, “I just want you.”

How had she managed to do it? To let herself into the cracks of his heart, warming and filling it with her golden light? When he was with her, he didn’t feel broken or incomplete. There was a comfortable wholeness that he felt like he’d been searching for his entire life.

But what could he give her in return? He couldn’t even guarantee that she would be safe with him; when Sam had told him that Karli had called Sarah, his first fear had been that maybe she’d found Maggie too, or maybe she’d even taken her. He would have ripped the world apart to get her back.

If she was the radiant setting sun, he was dusk—an ever-looming darkness that always came to eventually eclipse the light.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Bucky’s grip tightened on her hand as his resolve began to crack, “Maggie…”

As he trailed off, she was still stuck on his earlier wording. He’d said deserved—like she was some martyr or saint. Like she hadn’t made her own fair share of mistakes in her life. Like he wasn’t good enough for her. Dropping his hand, she crossed her arms once more as she defensively pointed out, “And who are you to tell me what I deserve, anyway?”

She’d wracked her brain, again and again and came up empty handed every time. What had happened that he’d had such a change of heart? It was like, one morning, they were fine but twelve hours later—oh.

Understanding washed over her like a tidal wave, knocking Maggie off of her feet, and pulling her violently out to sea.

“Is this about the thing in the paper?” She’d eventually seen the print edition of the Daily Bugle’s rumors—of course, he had too. His silence in response to her question would have been answer enough but the way he avoided her eyes sealed the deal. Struggling to keep the frustration at bay and out of her voice, she begged, “Bucky, you know all of that was bullshit!”

Shaking his head, his voice was low as he brokenly admitted, “I didn’t want anyone to look at you differently because you were with me.”

Her bottom lip wobbled at the pain in his voice. He thought so little of himself. Even after all this time, all the times he’d fought to save the world, everything he’d done to repent for the sins of his past—would he ever believe it was enough? Believe he was enough?

It bubbled over. Finally, she snapped, as fast, uneven breaths struggled to fill her chest. The sob was audible as she raised her voice desperately, “I don’t care what anyone else wants!”

For the first time in her life, Maggie didn’t want to take anyone else’s opinion into consideration. No one else mattered; what she and Bucky wanted, what they did, was no one’s concern except their own. It felt good not to give a shit, like a shackle around her ankle had been cut and she was free.

Finally, he looked at her as she explained erratically, almost hysterical, “I've spent most of my life thinking about what was best for everyone else, and what they wanted, and I never let myself have what I wanted.”

“But what if—”

“No.” Pointing a finger at him, he clammed up at her firm reprimand—she wasn’t done. She ignored the black flecks of mascara that she knew had begun to speckle her cheek from her tears as she let out a humorless laugh, “I have spent my entire life thinking about what-ifs and all that’s done is hurt me and I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to.”

Standing in front of Bucky, she was firm, “I’m not going to give up before we even try.” Cautiously, she placed her freezing hands on his scruff-covered cheeks, and he shivered at the touch he’d missed so badly over the last month. Like it was a reflex, his hands gravitated to her soft waist.

Her thumb brushed soothingly over his cheek as the vulnerability broke through her exterior; she was just as afraid as he was. Her voice shook, “If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine, but if there’s even the smallest chance that you do, I want this. I want you, Bucky.” Her watery eyes searched his as she begged in a barely audible whisper, like she hadn’t even meant to say it aloud, “Just…please say you want me too.”

Resting his forehead against hers, Bucky melted like he was finally laying down to sleep after being deprived of rest for so long. He didn’t want to fight it anymore, he just wanted her.

Murmuring softly, he closed his eyes, “Of course, I do.”

September 12, 2024

Curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, Maggie’s voice was almost inaudible as she asked, “Do you ever wish you could go back and do it all again?”

Closing her eyes tightly, she wished she could retract her inquiry as she waited for his response. The handful of seconds were painful until she felt the pillow jostle the slightest bit as Bucky shook his head and murmured a low, “no.”

It felt like she could breathe again. His large hand splayed on her back felt like a pleasant weight as it drifted up and down. She could feel his warm breath on her forehead as he whispered, “No. I’m happy right here.”

She was grateful that the room was pitch black; even the dim light from the streetlamps outside her window weren’t enough to illuminate the stray tears that fell down her cheek and landed silently on the satin pillowcase. If she said another word, he’d know she was crying again, and she’d done far too much of that in the past twenty-four hours.

With a quiet sniffle, she shifted closer to him. Slotting her thick-sock-clad feet between his, she curled into his chest, burying her face into the soft, gray fabric of his shirt. It went without saying, but she was happy that he was there, too.

Though her breath slowed, and her limbs felt heavy, sleep evaded her. How could she have been so tired on the couch where she’d almost totally drifted off to sleep, yet her mind refused to rest once she was in bed?

Counting her own breaths, counting Bucky’s, counting Alpine’s deep snores, she almost broke. It vaguely registered in her mind that he was also awake when his lips brushed against her temple, softly whispering into her hair, “He shouldn’t have wanted anyone but you.”

It was a valiant effort to keep her breath from catching in her chest though her heart rate had begun to compete with the speed of light. There was no doubt who ‘he’ was referring to, but the weight of the barely spoken statement fell on her like a ton of bricks.

This was what it felt like to finally be someone’s first choice.

February 21, 2025

“You do?” Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that it wasn’t a dream or her mind playing a cruel joke. He wanted her, too?

He. Wanted. Her.

“I never wanted anyone else.” He breathed out, his fingers clenching the soft knit of her sweater before releasing them and sliding his arms around her, pulling her closer as he felt his own eyes grow warm with tears. He hadn’t cried since he’d been in Wakanda. Since the Winter Soldier had been taken out of his head.

Under her fingers, Maggie felt the way his jaw clenched hard before he finally exhaled plaintively, “I’m so sorry, Maggie.”

Honesty.

She had to be honest; she hadn’t been when she’d made that rule about not having feelings for one another, and she hadn’t been when she’d said that she was happy that he’d found someone. She couldn’t just pretend that it hadn’t hurt, that it was fine, and they could just ride off into the sunset together.

Her voice came out far smaller and more insecure than she intended for it to as she asked hesitantly, “But why did you lie?”

“I was a coward and I…” Pulling back to look at her—but keeping her tight in his arms because he never wanted to let her go again—his eyes were guilty as they swept over her curious, disappointed expression as she hung on to his words. Cringing, he admitted, “I thought it might hurt less.”

Pressing her lips together, she took a breath. Misguided as it was, she should have known that it was because he thought it was better for her, but it still burned. Shaking her head, she was frank with a pained smile as she pointed out, “It didn’t.”

Pulling her in tightly, he tucked her head just below his chin and held her close to his body. With only her presence, the feeling of her body pressed against his, Bucky felt his heartbeat begin to slow as he shook his head, “I shouldn’t’ve lied.”

“You should’ve just talked to me.” Maggie hummed into his neck, taking in the scent of him that she’d grown used to. The clean smell of his soap, the fresh scent of his washing detergent, the smoky, spicy cologne that was clinging to his skin after being applied so many hours earlier.

Who was she to give him advice on ‘just talking’ to someone? Maybe it was because that had been a mistake that she’d made thousands of times before, because he was the first person that she refused to make it with. Who would she be if she didn’t give him the grace that she’d been given? Maybe he’d been stupid, but he was hers.

“I forgive you.”

She felt the way his breath caught in his chest, like he’d been worried that he’d done something unforgiveable, “You do?”

“I know how it feels to be scared.” One of her hands that had been loped behind his neck drifted up, running her fingers through the soft, short hair at his nape as she assuaged him, “To want to run away.”

That was something she’d understood better than anyone because it was all she’d known since she was twenty-one. She’d run from her life after her parents died. From Nick. From Ben. And even though she said that she’d tell him if she ever felt like doing it again, she had eventually run from Steve too.

But she was done running away because there was no escaping pain or loss—that was life and it couldn’t be stopped, just as the Earth couldn’t be prevented from spinning. Running may have taken her around the world and from one pair of arms to another, but it hadn’t taken away the hurt, it hadn’t made her feel any better than if she’d stayed—it had only delayed the inevitable.

Now, there were so many things that she wanted, and, for the first time, she felt like she was running towards them as fast as she could. Even if the wolves were nipping at her heels every step of the way, she knew it was better to have loved and lost rather than to never have loved at all.

Because, without a doubt, that’s what it was. Maybe at first, she’d been a little unsure but now she couldn’t be more certain: she loved him. The lazy look he gave her from his spot on the bed when she woke up before him, the way he absentmindedly played with her hair as she fell asleep, the pleasant pain in her side from laughing at something he said—all of the small things just added up to it, like it was some perfect mathematic proof.

Perhaps he was like her before she knew Steve—utterly convinced that everything she hated about herself made her unlovable. Like her, he was wrong.

Leaning back to look at him, her words were gentle as a sad smile played on her lips, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that because I loved him, I couldn’t love you too?”

His arms tightened around her waist at the question, and she’d never seen his eyes so soft as he looked at her, his lips parted just slightly as he absorbed the words.

It felt like grace.

Maggie loved him—a fervent, open-hearted, persevering love.

Before he could speak, her hands trailed over his broad shoulders and down to where they came to rest on his chest. She could feel the fast, steady thump of his heart through his shirt as she clarified pointedly with a slow shake of her head, “I don’t want you to be Steve.” Tapping her index finger against his sternum, she held his gaze as she begged him to hear her and truly listen to what she was saying, “You have so many things that make you good but you’re too fucking blind to see any of them.”

Clenching the soft fabric of his shirt in her fists, she finally tore her eyes from his piercing gaze. No more lies. She focused on the three buttons beneath his collar; the top one was undone, and she spoke to the hollow of his throat instead of his face as she admitted quietly, “I read your file from…from Hydra. When you were—”

Cutting herself off, Maggie bit the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t who he’d been. Correcting herself, she continued, “When they made you do all of that stuff, they had to convince you that you were doing it to make the world a better place because otherwise, you wouldn’t be on their side.”

Treating him like some sick experiment, they’d realized that it was like Skinner’s operant conditioning: positive reinforcement worked more miracles than punishment ever could. They’d abused the scientific method in the name of chaos because he’d been too virtuous for their cause to corrupt without help.

“It took them years,” Her voice cracked as she imagined everything that he’d been made to endure, “Of hurting you and torturing you, to break you down enough to do what they wanted because you’re so strong and so good. And even then, they just had to keep starting over because a part of you fought back every fucking time!”

A drop of salted water that had come from a set of blue eyes rather than brown landed on her hand and she took a shaky breath as she looked back up to meet his bloodshot eyes; finding tears swimming in them, her own began to fall more freely. His warm hand gathered both of hers, pressing them harder against his chest as he fought to breathe.

No one had ever been so brazenly candid with him; everyone shied away from his past but not Maggie—never Maggie. She faced it with a sense of bravery, that very few others had possessed, because she knew there was light beyond the darkness that he was always so ashamed of.

Shaking her head, her voice was still thick with tears, “And it’s not fair that you had to go through that. And we can’t change the past, but you’re in control now; you can make new choices.” Taking back one of her hands, she placed it on his warm cheek and made him look down at her. Steadying her voice, she spoke plainly so there was no mistaking the words she wanted to drill into his head, “You might think you’re too broken to ever let yourself be loved but you’re wrong. You’re the one that has to decide. You just have to choose.”

‘Please choose.’

Maybe before, she would have said that it wasn’t so simple, but time had taught her that it was. For several minutes, they stood in the echoey silence of his plain apartment as he held her eyes. The intensity didn’t scare her anymore like it had at the beginning. What was the use? She already knew he could see right through her.

God, she wanted to drown in that salt blue sea for the rest of her life.

Finally, his voice cracked as he quietly asked, “You read my file?”

“Yes.” Her teeth caught her bottom lip, it slipped free as she nodded, and her face went warm. There was the guilt that she’d felt as she opened the manila folder, her eyes hungrily devouring every painful line. Taking a breath, she started, “I’m sorry, I know it was an invasion of your privacy and—”

Shaking his head at her line of thinking, Bucky cut her off cautiously, “You still…love me?”

His words were so soft, so nervous, that it broke her heart just a little more. He thought that she’d stop loving him if she knew the entire truth, but she was resolute. So, he wasn’t a saint. Neither was she—she’d been in the wrong almost as often as she’d been in the right. Neither one of them were perfect, maybe she didn’t even believe in perfection anymore, but there was a feeling that tugged at her, deep inside her chest, that maybe they were perfect for each other.

Maybe that’s what they’d been missing all along; they needed the other to make their shattered hearts whole again.

“Yes.” She exhaled, her thumb brushing over his cheek as a little smile formed on her lips, “Yes, I still love you, James.”

Pulling her in tightly, he buried his face deep in her hair and took a deep breath like she was some drug he never wanted to be clean of. That familiar, sweet almond scent sent a wave of calm crashing over his nervous system that was busy running rampant from her confession. His voice was muffled into her hair when he finally spoke again, his voice pained, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what?” Maggie breathed out as her eyes drifted closed, pressing her cheek against his warm chest. Her hand rubbed his back soothingly, her nails scraping softly over the scars that were hidden beneath his shirt, over the familiar border from skin to vibranium.

“To be happy.” He croaked out, “To be in love.”

He could feel the way she nodded, never one to back down from any challenge, as she whispered, “We can figure it out together.”

“It’s always been you.” He murmured, pulling back, and taking her face in his hands to look at her closer. His eyes were still so soft, like there was some hazy halo of warmth surrounding them. His thumb dragged across her lower lip as he admitted in a secretive whisper with a little smile finally taking up residence on his tired face, “I don’t remember what it was like before I loved you.”

Standing on her toes, she used a hand behind his neck to pull him down and connect their lips for the first time in far too long. He tasted like something sweet and addicting and the way his tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth sent her head spinning. She hadn’t fully let herself miss him but, god—had she ever. Slipping his arms back around her, he lifted her with an ease that she’d long since grown used to.

Kicking off her shoes, she wrapped her legs around his hips and smiled against his lips; the short skirt rode up tightly around her thighs as she crossed her ankles and tightened her arms like she was trying to merge their separate bodies into one. All she wanted was to feel him as close as possible; she needed to feel his touch that she’d been denied. One of his hands braced her ass, holding her up easily, as the other tangled in her hair, tugging gently and making her breathe a hot sigh into his mouth.

His apartment was like a mirror image of her own, the layout flipped opposite, so as he carried her down the hall, she giggled into their slow, honeyed kiss when the memories flooded back to the very first time they’d been in the same position, running on adrenaline and pent-up sexual tension from months of dancing around each other.

“What’s so funny, peach?” He trailed his lips down her neck to the collar of her tight, cable-knit jumper and she could feel the way his own lips curled into a smile at the melodic sound of her laugh. She never would have thought that she’d miss that stupid nickname, but she had.

“I never saw this coming.” Maggie’s words were breathy as tipped her head upwards, her waves falling down her back as she exposed more of her neck to him, feeling a warmth pooling low in her belly as his teeth grazed against the thin skin, “You. Us.”

His soft hum against her throat sent a shiver down her back. Looking around, she realized that she’d never been in his room as long as she’d known him. The bed was perfectly made like something out of a catalogue with a dark navy quilt and four uniform, looking pillows. There weren’t any decorations except a single picture on the nightstand.

As he laid her back on the firm mattress, she got a closer look and grinned as he tugged her sweater off. It was them from their first trip to Louisiana. Sam had taken it while they were dancing; she’d forgotten all about it, but apparently, he hadn’t. Not even after all this time.

He’d never shown her the picture and even after they stopped talking, he never put it away.

Yanking him back down into a slow, dreamy kiss where his tongue caressed hers familiarly, she wiggled her hips to aid him in the effort to rid her of the tight skirt that hugged her thighs. As he pulled back to catch his breath, she yanked his t-shirt off and threw it over the edge of the large bed. Catching his earlobe in her teeth gently and letting it go as he shivered, Maggie murmured in his ear teasingly, “Are you going to make love to me, James?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am.” As he gently squeezed her sides, she squealed before he sat up on his knees between her splayed thighs with a grin and undid his belt and jeans. Sitting up, she propped herself up on her hands to watch with eager eyes. Kicking the offending clothing off, he tugged her further down the bed until her head was nestled comfortably on the pillows. Hovering over her, he growled, “Gonna worship my girl like she fuckin’ deserves because I love her.”

He punctuated each of the last three words with progressively hotter, wetter kisses down her neck. Peppering soft ones across her chest, he traced the lace edge of her bra before slipping a hand under her back and undoing the clasp with deft fingers. Tossing it aside, his lips trailed down between her soft breasts.

Threading her fingers into his hair, a sweet sigh left Maggie as her eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his lips around one of her tight, pink nipples that begged for his attention, “And I love you.”

The deep groan he gave in response sent vibrations through her chest as his teeth tugged at the sensitive peak; switching his attention to its twin, he murmured against her warm skin, “Never wanna stop hearing you say that.”

“Keep this up and you won’t.”

“Mm, whatever you say, doll.” With a low chuckle, Bucky slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and grazed the pads of his fingers across silky skin. Groaning at how soaked he’d found her, Bucky slowly ground his hips into the bed, willing himself not to blow at merely touching her.

Her thighs tensed as she rocked her hips up into his touch involuntarily. The hand that didn’t have its nails digging into one of his shoulders was clenching the blanket, wrinkling the fabric that had been tucked tautly just seconds ago.

As he coated his finger in her wetness, he slipped it inside her warmth easily and she let out a quiet whine at the welcome intrusion as they caressed her velvet walls, dragging in and out slowly, “Fuck—”

“You didn’t think that I’d forgot how to make you feel good, did you?” A second finger joined his first, but the pleasant stretch was gone before she could even really enjoy it. Chuckling at the little pout on her gloss smeared lips, he licked her wetness from his digits before rolling the soft fabric down her thighs, murmuring quietly, “I know this body, baby. Know exactly what you need…”

Settling between her thighs, he tucked her legs over his broad shoulders and dragged her body closer to his by her hips. Pressing a soft kiss to her bikini line, he took his time reacquainting himself with every inch of her smooth skin. Dragging his lips down her hips, he pressed them to her mound before caressing her thighs with them, purposefully avoiding where she needed him most.

Squirming under his touch, he stilled her with large hands pressing her hips into the mattress. Blowing a little stream of cool air over her glossy folds, her whimper made his grin widen. Slipping his hands lower and lower, he used his thumbs to spread her lips, revealing her needy, pink sex to his hungry gaze, “Mm, look how wet you are, baby.” Pressing a gentle kiss to her swollen, red clit, he teased lowly, “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Maggie breathed out, her fingers gravitating to his hair and tangling in the soft strands like she knew he liked. He let out a groan at the gentle tug and flattened his tongue, licking a broad stripe from her entrance up to lave around her little button. The muscles in her stomach tightened beneath his fingers at the feeling and she gasped out, “Fuck, James…”

He lapped slowly at the creamy wetness that was dripping from her like the sweetest nectar. Her taste coated his tongue and he groaned at the heady essence, hooking his arms around her thighs, holding her hips tightly as she tried to keep still through the pleasure that was making her twitchy, desperate for more—for as much as he’d give her.

Bucky’s scruff made the delicate skin of her thighs sensitive and red as he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking it in erratic patterns that made her eyes roll back as she jerked her hips into his mouth, whimpering out a breathless plea, “Yes, right there!”

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He murmured against her cunt, his spit and her wetness dripping down his chin as he sloppily sucked and licked like he’d been starved; slipping two fingers back into her needy hole easily, she continued to babble unintelligibly for him, and he smirked. The way he could make Maggie turn off her racing mind was one of his favorite accomplishments.

Thrusting his fingers into her at a quick pace, the slick sounds made her face go red as the coil drew tighter deep in her belly. Gripping his hair tightly, she could feel the knot beginning to unwind as he sucked varying patterns on her clit, murmuring lowly, “Come for me, baby. Love the way your sweet little cunt squeezes my fingers…”

A moan was pulled from Maggie’s swollen lips as she felt her chest shudder and collapse in on itself at the sudden wave of bliss that flooded her brain. Her thighs tensed almost painfully, trapping his head between them as her toes curled. After her climax receded, she lazily grabbed for him and pulled him above her with a wordless whine.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she yanked him down to kiss his pouty, pink lips that were still glossy with her juices. He moaned into her mouth as he held himself up above her, his hardness pressing hot and heavy as it rested between their bodies. Murmuring against his mouth, she was still floating as she begged, “Need to feel you, baby.” Slipping a hand down, she pulled his length from his tight boxers, giving it slow, languid strokes that made his knees weak, “Please? I need your cock…”

Unable to deny her any longer, Bucky groaned and shed the last bit of clothing. Adjusting her beneath him, he brushed his lips sweetly against her dewy forehead as he murmured, “I’ve got you, c’mere…” Looking down between their bodies, he groaned as he traced his weeping, ruddy tip between her folds, once, twice, before using her wetness and watching as he slowly sank into her warmth, “Fuck, honey. You fit me like a goddamn glove, like this pussy was made for me.”

It had been some time since she’d felt the familiar stretch and she let out a broken whimper as she squeezed her thighs tightly around his hips. Eyes fluttering shut, he bottomed out and pressed his hips flush to hers as she agreed breathlessly, “Only you—fuck!”

Brushing some of the hair from her forehead, he stilled until her hazy, heavy-lidded eyes opened again to find his. With a smile, he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and exhaled shakily as he dropped his forehead to hers, “I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too, Buck.” Those words sounded like his new favorite song, and he let out a soft moan as he slowly pulled out, relieving some of the pressure, before rolling his hips back into hers. Maggie’s nails dug into his back painlessly at the slow motion that he began.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Setting a familiar, sensual rhythm, he watched as she allowed the pleasure to fill her with every slow thrust. She hummed at the way he fit her so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces; lacing the fingers of one of her hands with his, his words were low as his lips brushed against her ear again, “You’re mine, peach. Always.”

Nodding, Maggie pushed back against each thrust of his hips as she panted out, “And you’re mine—” A whimper was ripped from her lips as he tilted his pelvis, finding that spot deep inside of her so easily, “Yes, right there!”

“Of course, I am, baby…” He agreed, slipping his other hand down her body to circle her throbbing clit with the pads of his fingers as he growled lowly, “All yours. Always.”

His broad hips between her legs made it impossible for her to squeeze her thighs together tightly at the sensation that was just on the edge of becoming too much for her to handle. She’d been wound so tightly—no amount of time with her fingers or vibrator could ever compare to how he made her feel.

“Oh god—I’m gonna come…” Maggie’s breath hitched as she arched her back, needing to feel him pressed against her as she chased her release. Her nails dragged slowly down his back as she begged into his ear, “Come with me. Wanna feel you come inside me. Fuck, James, fill me up, please. Need it so bad…”

“My dirty girl.” Bucky praised through a clenched jaw, snapping his hips into hers faster as he felt the way his balls drew tighter from the way her walls began to clench around him. He assured her sweetly as his fingers tugged back the hood of her clit to strum the sensitive bundle of nerves without any hindrance, “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me, right now. Let me feel that cunt milkin’ my cock, baby—”

With a gasp that pulled a sharp intake of air into her lung, Maggie felt her entire body burst into a firework show of brilliant light flashes that she could see, even with her eyes squeezed shut; for the second time, in just a few minutes, the rubber band snapped again as her orgasm washed over her and sent her reeling as she gripped his shoulder tightly, tremors rocking her body. Fluttering around his cock, she moaned as the shockwaves rippled out and his movement became sloppy.

“That’s it, fuck…” His hips jerked one last time as he pressed deep into her, his tip brushing her cervix as he spilled his release into her warmth, painting her walls with his spend. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, going harder for a minute before he could finally relax. Not bothering to slip out of her, he easily rolled on to his back and pulled her body atop of his as he mumbled with a satisfied, blissful smile on his tired face, “I love you.”

An airy giggle was exhaled from Maggie’s nose as she teased, “Are you ever going to get tired of saying it?”

His lips pressed against her forehead once again as he affectionately denied the notion, “Never.”

“Me either.”

She didn’t care that his chest was still slightly damp with sweat or that her hair was probably incredibly knotted; there was an overwhelming sense of peace that washed over her as she laid half on top of him. His fingers trailed lazily up and down her spine, going over each bump of her vertebrae slowly. She shivered at the feeling as her heartrate began to slow.

Her eyes were closed but she could feel his voice from deep inside his chest as Bucky looked down at her with an expression that she’d never seen from him before, murmuring quietly but with a fierce resolve, “I’m going to marry you.”

Once upon a time, those words had struck a cold kind of fear deep inside of Maggie, turning her heart to a frozen block of ice. It wasn’t too long ago that everything had felt so painfully temporary—even things that felt like they were meant to last forever. But now? Now, she felt like she could stop running. She’d reached her destination; this was what she’d been looking for all along and she’d finally found it. There was no chance that she was ever letting it go, that she was ever letting him go.

“Yeah,” Pressing a kiss to the middle of his chest, Maggie rested her chin on his sternum as she blinked up at him with warm, molten honey eyes. She felt whole, like every mistake that she’d made and every demon she’d fought had been worth it to find this serene peace. Meeting his gaze with a happy, golden shimmer of complete contentment in her own, she agreed softly, “You are.”

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1800jjbarnes · 1 year

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

【Synopsis】 : Bunnies shouldn't be wondering on their own. A big bad wolf is stalking the forest, and he will do anything to protect what is his.

『Word count』 : 1.84k

Paring: Wolf!Alpha!Bucky x Bunny!Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Blood, knife, reader gets cut, Bucky goes wild, lots of gore, cruel words, swearing. Bucky in a suit cause that is a warning on its one. Dirty talk. Harassment, sexualising. Abuse. Toxic friendships. Triggering scenes. John being a disgusting person.

✦ The ALPHA AND BUNNY Universe ✦ -> [Click Here]

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You were just doing your normal run. Grabbing supplies and then heading back to your cottage. You were rushing a little bit because you needed to still pack your things for the couple of nights you will be at the den. Bucky had begged you to come over to see his brothers, so tonight you finally agreed. You were excited but very nervous as well. So your best idea you could conger was to get some supplies for a calming medicine. It is a simple recipe to calm anything from overthinking thoughts to a shaking body. But what you didn't expect to see was an old face on your journey.

You stopped cutting the fungi, hearing the leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of someone's footing. You looked over to where the sound had come from while still crouching in front of the large elm tree. His smile caught you off guard. He has gotten bigger since you've seen him last. His pitch black ears stood straight up high, not even flopping as he tilted his head to the side.

"Funny seeing you here." His voice got deeper too. It's no longer the pitchy mismatch tone you remember. He aged the two years you've been gone. Well, out casted... you were stunned, to say the least. Standing up slowly, you dropped your items in the basket with caution. Your community was housed in the far east, almost two whole forestry's down. Why would he be this far out? Unless...

"Wolf, got your tongue?" He chuckled, taking a few steps towards you. Hairs on your body stood up straight as a bad feeling rushed into your gut. Even though he was a friend back then, he has become nothing more than a stranger now. He didn't stop or even fight to keep you in the community. All you can recall is seeing him watch from the sidelines as you were shunned out of the village. He was no friend to you.

"Why are you here?" You finally speak up, taking a step back from him. He watches you closely, moving in time with you. Until a tree stops your footing, making you unable to step away from him anymore.

"I thought you'd be more of, Hey it's so nice to see you. It's been ages. How have you been doing John? I'm fine y/n thanks for asking." His words got sharper as each one fell. He was annoyed at your hostility, getting tired of the way you are standing your guard up as if he was going to do something to you.

"Why are you here, John... What do you want?" You sounded more stern this time, trying to keep your ground. You weren't the little defenceless bunny anymore. You had a voice. Bucky helped you with that. John, however, didn't like this new you. You weren't mould-able anymore. He can't bend you like he used to.

"I see being around these flea-ridden pests has turned you sour. Where did your manners go..." He traps you against the tree and his large body. He looks you up and down, fingers grazing over your flopped fluffy ears. "Where did my innocent sweet puffball go?" He twists his fingers over your cottontail, tugging slightly, making you gasp out in disgust. His breath pooled on your cheek, his lips parting lightly as if he wanted to kiss you. You closed your eyes, waiting for the worst, but he pulled away entirely, sighing out while stretching.

"Come on, let's go to this cottage of yours while we wait." He picked up the basket you had dropped.

"Wait for what?" You instantly regretted asking once you hear him reply, your heart stopping at his words as your blood ran cold.

"You're coming home."

Time was ticking, and as the sun began to fade into the setting, Bucky's pacing became more prominent. Where were you? You said to meet at the bend where the water met the hill before the pack grounds, but you were nowhere to be seen. He's been waiting for around thirty minutes already. Something was wrong, and he could tell. His bond with you made his wolf scream out in pain. No, something was definitely off, and he needed to find you now.

"ARGH, how long does this take?" His annoyance is spilling out of his words. He just wanted this to be done. He didn't want to be around you any more than he had to, but he had to do it so he could finally get the title of knight back at the kingdom. You sat in the same spot for the past hour, watching John pace back and forth near the front door of your cottage. He was getting impatient, biting his nails in annoyance. You watched him, hugging yourself. Your breath was hitched. You weren't terrified of him, but fear-filled your senses at his restlessness. He started to become more and more driven by anger. He needed to be able to prove himself. So he can finally be put as a knight in their court. He needed to be better. And if it meant to hurt you, he'd do it. In truth, he might have been friends with you when you were young, but now all he sees is a stranger whenever your eyes meet. He was not the boy that used to play hide and seek with or play jumping Johns or run around the castle halls. He was nothing to you.

"J-John can we just tal—Shut up, will you? God" He is laced with venom, swinging his pocket knife around his fingers as he sat down at your dining table. You straighten yourself, gulping slightly, watching him in the next room slowly slip more and more into impatience.

"Why do they want me back? It's been years." You try pushing your luck again, asking him an array of questions, in hopes it might gift you knowledge, but as he racks his finger through his dark hair, you know all you're doing is pushing his buttons until he snaps.

"Can't you just sit there and not talk like you used to, huh? God being around that animal and his friends really made you so dumb." He stood up, turning his back to you to look out the window. You felt hurt, anger even. You were scared, but not scared enough to push your luck.

"Mate...." He turned his head, with an eyebrow raised. At your sudden bold tone, "Bucky is my mate... not some animal." A growl buried in your chest. Maybe the wolves have brushed off on you.

"M-mate? Wow, that is by far the most disturbing thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Displeasure boiled on his tongue as he stood up tall, walking towards you. Your eyes widened at his sudden movements, crawling back onto the couch further and further, trying to get more distance from him. He knelt down right in front of you, pointing his knife in your direction, tilting his head along with the blade.

"You are so delusional, you know that. Soulmates? Mates? Bonds? Wolves just use that excuse to fuck one another. You know that, right? He probably saw you and thought, this little.." He leant closer, "Innocent..." His breath brushed on your cheek. "Bunny..." The tip of his knife grazed your upper thigh. "Looks so fuckable. I'm going to take her and make her my fuck toy." The knife sliced your thigh drawing blood immediately as he pulled away chuckling. His back straightens up as he looks down on you.

"That's what you are, aren't you? His stupid little sex toy. A slut for his own pleasure and here I thought you'd grow up to be a smart independent rabbit, but look at you now." He spat at you, some of it landing on your shorts as you hissed in pain from the cut. Your hand tried its best to keep the wound from opening but it was no use, blood was painting your couch, thigh and clothes. You become frozen, tears pooling in your eyes. You knew for a fact his words weren't true, but they still hurt you. He knew nothing of Bucky, nothing of his romantic tropes and loving nature. He didn't know anything about your mate, but the depiction he strode out made your heart shatter.

"You know, screw—" Before he could finish his sentence, the front door bursts open with a very sweaty, hot, and angry Bucky in its frame. John shivered slightly. All his talk might mean one thing, but seeing an actual wolf was another.

"Want to finish that sentence, John?" Bucky's voice was low, lower than you've ever heard it. His eyes were crimson, the gold only a small detail in his red pools.

"H-How do you know my name?" John answered with a question, his ears flopping down as a dead give away he was becoming frightened. If it was one thing you remembered about John, it was he was all bark and no bite. Pun intended. Bucky tilted his head, a snapping sound echoing from it as he cracked the plate in his spine. His hands pulled at his black suit cuffs, straightening his blazer upon his deep maroon blouse that hid underneath.

"I know a lot about you. You be surprised how much I know about my darlings kingdom. Every rabbit, where they live. Even where the king and queen, their parents." He pointed with anger in his tone at you. "Where they rest their little heads at night." He stepped forward, deeper into the room when a horrid smell, a smell he wishes never to smell from you. Blood. His eyes grazed your body, seeing your hand still holding the flesh wound, hot blood slipping through the cracks of your fingers.

That's it all terms of charisma, composure and sense of calmness goes out the window. Looking at you one last time, his eyes meet Johns in pure red rage. John gulps, knowing what Bucky was looking at, but before he can even think about getting his was out of it, Bucky moved faster than anything he could see, pining John to the nearest wall by the throat. His fingers pinch down on his windpipe, and Bucky's teeth are bared.

"You should have really thought before you touched what is mine." Bucky's words rang in John's ears as he screamed out within the second, feeling his neck being pierced by sharp talon-like teeth. His flesh was ripped away in one motion, like a butter knife cutting through soft cream. James spat out the flesh along with the blood that had mixed with his saliva, dropping John to the ground, where he quickly grabbed his neck, gasping for air.

"You think we are animals. Being compelled by the need to hunt our prey..." He crouched down, becoming eye level with the dying rabbit. "If that's so true, then I guess this makes you my prey..."

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3620

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

6. Somethin' with Bananas

Steve

Steve wakes up to Bucky spooning him, pressing his morning wood against his ass. He hums with his eyes still closed, enjoying the feeling. “Mmm, g’morning.”

Hands slide onto his hips. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Steve smiles. “Sunshine” is one of Bucky’s favorite pet names for him. Steve is rather fond of it too, after so many years together. His husband has a knack for making him feel special like that. “What’re you doin', Buck?” he warns softly, still smiling because he likes the feeling of being explored, even if they can't take this far right now because of—

“She left for work a while ago,” Bucky murmurs, the answer to a question that Steve hasn’t asked. Alone time doesn’t happen as much as it used to, these days. "Left a bunch of baking stuff out on the counter. There's a note threatening us with mortal peril if we eat any of her bananas."

"Hmm." Steve yawns deeply and wiggles his butt back against his husband's noticeable hardon. "Whas'she makin'?"

"Dunno. Somethin' with bananas." Bucky’s hand slides to the juncture of Steve’s legs. He palms the half hard line of his cock from over his briefs, massaging the bulge as it grows. Steve moans a little and tips his head back to Bucky’s shoulder, a wordless request for kisses. Bucky starts lavishing his neck with attention while his hand continues its slow work.

Steve loves moments like this. Early morning, the sun barely out and the world quiet, the bedroom air still and thick from sleep; easy, instinctual fucking; simple and not complicated, just the two of them loving on each other. He inhales a little sharper when Bucky finally slides his hand under the waistband of his underwear. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Mmhm.” Bucky kisses his neck. “This what you wanted, Honey?” His hand is wrapped flush around Steve now, skin on skin. He strokes once up and down and gives a squeeze, starts up a slow, tight rhythm.

“Oh.” Steve bites his lip, eyes closed as he just feels what Bucky’s doing to him. “Mm. Mmhm. S’real good.” He shivers when Bucky’s thumb swipes at his cockhead, spreading the wetness around and pressing firm against his slit. “Fuck …”

“Always were a leaker,” Bucky says lowly. “You get so wet, Honey.”

“Buck,” Steve whines. He loves Bucky’s talk in bed but he’s never been able to handle it. It turns him into a pitiful mess, every time.

Bucky

Bucky just chuckles, knowing the effect he has on him. He’s Dominant. Winding Steve around his little finger comes naturally to him, and Steve can’t say he doesn’t like it. “You were making pretty sounds in your sleep,” Bucky says, murmuring the words in between kisses on Steve’s neck. “Moaning and moving your hips a little.” He demonstrates, pushing his own hips up against Steve’s ass. Steve makes an embarrassed, whimpery sort of noise that goes straight to Bucky’s cock, and he shushes him. “Shh, no. It was hot, Stevie. You were feeling real good in your sleep, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Bucky presses his thigh forward, between Steve’s legs, crowding him that much closer. “Hm?”

“Her,” Steve says breathily. “I … h-her.”

“Mary?” Bucky grins against the skin of his neck. “Having dirty dreams about our girl, huh?”

Steve moans—whether at Bucky calling her ‘their girl’, or at the way his other hand is now reaching down to cup Steve’s sac, isn’t clear. Bucky gives a gentle squeeze and tug, then rolls the weight of his testicles in his palm. Steve, who’s always been keen on having his balls played with, moans louder and nods against the pillow. “Didn’t mean to,” he says, as if he needs to defend his character.

Bucky grins like a shark and nips his earlobe. “Course not. You just couldn’t help it, could you? She’s always there, moaning around bites of cream filled pastries, showing off her ass in those leggings—”

Steve groans.

“—Giving us attitude every day like she wants a spanking, but dropping so sweet by the end’a the night.” He can see pink spreading around to the back of Steve’s neck and shoulders now. His Stevie colors so easily. Bucky licks delicately along the shell of his ear and whispers, “Tell me. Tell me what you did to her in the dream.” Steve moans and doesn’t answer for a long while, maybe too distracted by Bucky’s hand that’s still stroking him slowly. Bucky stills, opens his hand and presses Steve’s cock up against his stomach. “Steve,” he warns. “Tell me.”

“... Wasn’t me,” Steve mumbles, embarrassed. “It was you. You were touching her, fucking her.”

Bucky’s guts tighten in arousal. “Oh?” he breathes. “You like thinkin’ about that? Like thinking about me laying her out? Her spreading her legs for me right here on this bed?” Steve groans and nods, whining impatiently and humping forward for more. Bucky chuckles and takes him in hand again, squeezing his shaft and fondling his balls. They’re tighter now, drawn up closer to his body as he gets more worked up. “So?” Bucky needles, when he still hasn’t gotten an answer. “Is that what you want?”

“Bucky, nngh, Yes, alright?”

“Mmhm.” He chuckles softly and nuzzles Steve’s neck, enjoying his husband’s flustered state. “But you know, I think I’d like to watch you.” He can just picture it: Steve’s muscled, strong body moving over her soft curves, his big hands holding her open gently—because everything Steve does is gentle—while he makes her cum on his cock. “Yeah. You like that idea, Big guy? Me too. I wanna watch this big fat dick—” he squeezes his fist on Steve— “plowing her sloppy, making her cum so good she even cries a little bit.” Steve whines again, and Bucky hums in agreement. “Mmhm. It’d be so hot, Stevie.”

Steve squirms against him in distress. “I, I’ve never … With girls I mean. I’m not … I’ve never …” he peters off, and Bucky’s got no idea what he’s saying.

“What?” He frowns and ruts his erection against the cleft of Steve’s ass for a little relief. “What’re you talking about, Baby? You’ve been with women before. College?”

Steve shakes his head against the pillow. “No, I mean I … I don’t know what to do. To make ‘em feel good. I’m … not good at it.”

Bucky actually stops what he’s doing. Steve grunts at the lack of touch, but Bucky just hushes him and pulls on his shoulder, urging him to turn over. “Hey. C’mere. Look at me.” Steve’s face is indeed colored pink when he turns to lie facing Bucky. His eyes flick up briefly, but dart away again, shy. Bucky’s heart squeezes. “Oh, Honey,” he says, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw. “Who told you that?” He thinks of murdering whatever coed bitch might’ve made Steve feel self-conscious.

Steve looks mortified. “Nobody did. Just … I could tell. The times I was with ‘em. I couldn’t make them, you know, cum.” He looks so ashamed as he admits it, and Bucky wants to grab him and kiss all over his entire face.

“Aw, Steve,” he coos. “Is that it? You’re nervous about being with a woman again? Not confident?”

Steve nods. He tucks himself against Bucky’s body and presses his face in his neck, hiding there. “Women are hard,” he mumbles. “I like ‘em, but it’s not easy.”

Bucky chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s for sure. But it’s not that bad, baby. You just gotta know a few basics. Gotta take it real slow and feel them out, find out what makes her feel good. Every girl’s different. That’s the beauty in it.”

Steve grunts and ruts up against him, their cocks knocking together between their bellies. “Tell me?” he asks, eager and sweet. “Please, Buck? Tell me how.”

Bucky feels like half the blood leaves his brain, his dick throbbing anew. “Fuck,” he breathes, crazy turned on at the idea. “You want me to teach you, Stevie? Teach you how to get her crying? Dripping wet? How to touch her so good you make her cum?”

Steve shivers and nods, grinding his forehead into Bucky’s shoulder in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah I want you to. Want you to teach me.”

Bucky pulls Steve’s head up to make him look at him. His face is pinched—embarrassed but wanting. Bucky curses. “Fuck. Yeah, yeah baby I’ll teach you how. C’mere.” He moves up the bed, pulling Steve’s meaty shoulders to get him to follow, directing him to sit in his lap, back to chest as Bucky props them up against the headboard. He spreads his legs wide to accommodate Steve’s bulk, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “My little overachiever,” he murmurs. “Such a Boy Scout, always wanting to be the best you can be.”

Steve huffs. “Don’t think they gave out merits for eating pussy,” he quips, uncharacteristically lewd.

Bucky barks out a laugh in delight. “Well pay attention, Sweetheart. You’re about to earn that badge.” Steve shudders against him, but he’s leaning back against Bucky, slumped just a little lower in his lap. He’s ready to listen, and Bucky’s fucking hot at the chance to tell. “First thing you gotta know,” he says, speaking delicately and smoothing his hands over Steve’s sides. “Is forget what you’ve seen in porn. They make that shit for us, not them. It’s all fake. No better way to make a girl miserable than to go pounding into her or whatever else.”

Steve makes a questioning noise, and God bless him, Bucky knows instantly that this is news to the big dummy. “But …” he hedges.

“No buts, Honey.” Bucky kisses his ear. “You gotta be so gentle. Always start soft, always go slow. Start that way and pay attention to her reactions.” He skims his fingertips up Steve’s ribs, tickling lightly over to his pecs and back down, making him gasp. “Yeah,” Bucky hums, “Just like that. She might be quiet at first, girls don’t moan all loud right off the bat. They don’t get worked up as fast as we do. They take time.”

Steve nods, panting a little as he listens to him. “W-what then?” he asks.

“Listen to her breathing, the sounds she makes. She’ll start breathing heavier when you’ve got her feeling good, start making little sounds without even realizing she’s doin’ it.” Steve looses a tiny whimper and Bucky grins. “Yeah, just like that.” He reaches down and finds Steve’s cock again, and god it’s sexy how wet his fella can get. He strokes him a few times, just languidly, letting the precum guide the slide of his fist. Not hurrying. Showing Steve what he means when he says ‘slow’.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, sounding gone for it.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “And then when she starts moving her hips?” He presses his crotch into the small of Steve’s back. “Just rubbing herself against you or humping up in the air a little? Oh yeah, that’s when she’s into it.” He brings one hand up to cradle Steve’s pec. “Girls are more sensitive here than we are,” he tells him. He’s looking over Steve’s shoulder now, eyeing up what he’s doing. He flicks his thumb over the nipple—so freaking small and petal pink where Bucky’s are darker. And he’s so responsive, the nipple pebbling up with hardly any effort on Bucky’s part. “Mmhm,” Bucky hums approvingly. “You want to try different things. You can just hold ‘em …” he uses both hands and cups the meat of Steve’s chest, giving a proprietary squeeze. Steve moans and Bucky smiles. “Yeah. But not too hard. Treat her tits like they’re something delicate, somethin’ special.” He makes the motion to Steve’s pecs like he would do to lightly bounce a woman’s breasts in his palms. “And Mary, she’s got smaller tits. A nice, healthy handful, just like you.”

Steve whines and squirms impatiently in his lap. Bucky glances down to check, and sees Steve’s cock; abandoned on his stomach, dark, and leaking. It’s so heavy and thick, the foreskin drawn halfway down the head, showcasing the shiny pink tip of him. Bucky curses softly. Fuck, but he wants to wring an orgasm out of that cock like ten minutes ago. But he forces himself to stay the course.

“When you use your mouth on her nipples,” he whispers, voice soft like velvet in Steve’s ear, “You can lick. Or nibble a little.” He mimics each option with a stroke and then a pinch of his fingers on Steve’s nipples, flicking out with his tongue to get the shell of Steve’s ear. “But I’ll tell you what: most of ‘em like it best when you suck.” He uses all five fingertips drawn together to pull gently at the peaks of Steve’s chest, and Steve makes a hurt, wanting sound. “Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Suck her nipples. Then fit as much of her in your mouth as you can and suck that too.” He takes pity on Steve and reaches back down for his cock. Steve cries out, and Bucky gentles him. “Shh sh sh. Remember: slow.”

Steve groans, his tight hips flexing and pushing his cock up into the curl of Bucky’s fist. “Buck, please.”

“It’s not about you,” Bucky chides. “You’re a man. You get to cum so easy and all the time. You gotta help her get there, give her what she deserves.”

Steve sobs a little, so worked up from all the teasing, but he falls back into Bucky, relaxing against his chest and laying himself open for Bucky to continue. Pride and adoration for his man well up in Bucky at the show of submission. “Good,” he praises, giving an extra indulgent twist on the next upstroke. Steve’s foreskin moves with the motions, making soft, wet noises with all the precum he’s leaking. Bucky hums appreciatively. “Yeah, lookit that.” He draws his hand all the way up, tight, and then dips his thumb into the folds, rubbing into that wetness, against the sensitive head. “If you’re doing it right, touching her enough, she’ll be wet by now,” he says. “But you still shouldn’t go for her pussy yet. Not yet.”

“What … what else?” Steve asks muzzily, like he can’t think of anything else to do that doesn’t involve his dick getting jerked off or sticking it in a hypothetical pussy.

“Tease her,” Bucky says. “Run your hands all over her body, all over her soft skin.”

Steve sighs happily. “I like how soft they are. Smooth.”

Hearing Steve talk about what he likes about women makes Bucky’s dick throb, and he grinds it against Steve’s lower back for some relief. “Mmhm,” he agrees, moving his hands up and down the skin of Steve’s ribcage, his belly, grabbing on at his hips and giving a proprietary jostle. “Dig your fingers into her, gentle but insistent. Let her feel how much you love her body.”

“Now?” Steve asks.

“Not yet,” Bucky whispers.

“Fuck. Bucky.”

“Tease her,” he insists, ignoring Steve’s pleading. He slides his hands down Steve’s thighs and inwards, pulling them apart. Steve moans and spreads them wide. “Exactly,” Bucky says. “You want to touch her here. Run your hands all over, so close to where she wants it. Remember, if you’ve been doing this right, she’ll be wet by now.” He goes back and strokes the wetness along Steve’s shaft. “Sink down between her legs and kiss her thighs—you’ll smell it.”

“Oh my god.”

Bucky smiles, in love with his husband for how easily he comes apart under his care. He traces down to the base of Steve’s cock, making a vee with two fingers and rubbing the skin on either side. “Put pressure on her mound, really close but not touching where she wants it. Not yet.” His other hand slides down and delicately traces the seam of Steve’s sac. “Tease her, trace her folds. Get a little bit of that wetness and rub it around to make her even more sensitive. And then …” He blows gently on Steve’s ear. Steve moans. “Just like that. You want to wait. Don’t give her your mouth until she’s whining and shovin’ up at you for it.”

“Nngh,”

Bucky chuckles and circles the wet pad of his finger over one testicle and then the other. He nudges at Steve’s taut sac and whispers in his ear. “Push her lips apart.”

Steve is breathing hard through his nose, tense, his dick bobbing rock hard and angry in the air. Bucky has mercy on him and reaches for it, and Steve chokes out a sob of relief at only the slightest touch.

Bucky kisses his temple soothingly. “Shh. Here. Riiight here.” He holds the head between his thumb and fingers and starts jacking just the tip of him, foreskin tugging and gliding in that way that he knows feels amazing for Steve. “Right above her sweet spot, see? You rub on her like this, up and down, back and forth. Work the hood over her clit juuust like this.”

Steve makes a debased groan at the echo of what Bucky’s saying, and how he’s working Steve’s foreskin over the head of his dick. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses.

“Yeah, you’re close. She’s soaked by now. You think it’s time to give her more?”

“Bucky. Yes, yes, please.” His hips are straining upwards but he lets his head loll back on Bucky’s shoulder, open for what he’ll do next. “Please,” he begs.

“Now this is important, baby, so pay attention,” Bucky says. “Some women like a mouth on ‘em down there, some don’t. Some do, but they have a hang up over how they think they look or taste or something.” Steve makes a sad noise at that, matching Bucky’s opinion that: yeah, women shouldn’t worry so much. Pussy is just generally fucking awesome. “Tell her how much you love it,” he says. “The taste of her, the shape of her lips. Make her feel pretty and wanted.” He’s fondling Steve’s balls anew as he says this, rubbing and rolling them, then cupping his whole palm over them and dipping behind to dig fingertips into his taint. “Come on, Stevie,” he goads, “Let me hear it. Tell me what you’d say.”

It takes Steve a few tries before he can pull enough of his brain out of his dick to rasp, “S’fucking gorgeous p-pussy. So … so wet. Can I lick it Honey, huh? Please lemme lick it. Wanna taste that sweet cunt.”

Bucky gasps, shocked and delighted at Steve’s dirty talk. “Oh, Stevie,” he groans. “Baby. Fuck, yes. I didn’t know you had it in you.” He wraps his hand fully around Steve’s cock and starts jerking him off fast, fast enough that it’s obvious he’s finally aiming to make Steve cum, and Steve chokes on a relieved heave of breath.

"Yes! Oh, thank you!”

Bucky attacks Steve’s neck with his mouth, biting and smearing spit and scraping his teeth over the wet skin. He growls as he watches his fist working furiously over Steve's red, hard dick. “Suck her clit while you fuck her on your fingers,” he rasps. “Tell her she’s a good girl, tell her to ride your face, grind down on your hand. Make sure she knows she’s allowed to let go.”

Steve cries out, guttural and loud like he always gets when his pleasure is cresting. “Bucky, Buck. Honey, oh. F-fuck, m’close.”

“Mmhm. Thaat’s it, Princess,” he says, pitching his voice just so and using that name so that Steve knows. Knows he’s talking to her.

Steve whines, his whole body tight and straining into Bucky’s grip.

“Curl your fucking fingers in her,” Bucky growls. “She’s close. Don’t slow down. Don’t even speed up. She likes what you’re doing now, so don’t you dare fucking change a thing.”

“Bucky!”

“That’s it, Princess, just like that. You’re almost there.”

“Fuck, fuck … ssshit …”

“Ride Daddy’s hand, fuck back on it. Good girl.”

Steve jerks and shouts, cock pulsing in telltale contractions, before searing ropes of come shoot up his stomach and all over Bucky’s hand. “Oh, oh, oh!” He grunts through it with gorgeous sounds, and Bucky’s so in love with the sight of it that he’s not roleplaying anymore when he purrs, “Fucking beautiful, Sweetheart.”

Steve slumps when it’s over, still panting from the pleasure. Bucky eases off, sets his wet and slowly softening dick gently against his stomach. He moves them, guiding Steve to turn over and lie out on his front. He shoves Steve’s legs together and straddles them, swipes his hand that’s covered in Steve’s release into the tight space between his thighs, wetting him up. He growls viciously, pent up and rock hard and ready to fucking cum. He ruts into the wet clench of Steve’s thick thighs, fucking him like he’s got a loose, easy cunt. “Fuck, baby,” he grits, close within a matter of minutes. He chases his orgasm and collapses onto Steve’s broad back when it hits, grinding in hard one last time and shouting loud and guttural with how goddamn good it feels. “Fuck! Ughn, f-ffuuck.”

He comes down heaving, panting against Steve’s skin. Steve is strong enough that he can roll out from under his weight, and he pulls Bucky into his arms and draws his head onto his chest. Bucky goes gratefully, happy to have Steve’s firm pecs as a pillow. “God, honey,” he breathes, wrung out. Steve makes a noise of agreement. They just lie there together, sweaty and spent, catching their breath for a long time.

“... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“… You’re a good teacher.”

Bucky laughs and crawls up to kiss Steve on the mouth. “Yeah,” he says when they part. “But that wasn’t even the main event.” Steve looks confused for a second, before Bucky slyly clarifies: “You still gotta fuck her. And you know you want to make her cum at least twice.”

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 year

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Random Thoughts: Bucky Barnes

The Metal Arm

Contrary to what most people think Bucky actually loves it when his girl touches his metal arm.

It’s one of his biggest insecurities to be sure, he has a bad relationship with it (as one would imagine) but he enjoys it when his girl enjoys it, and that’s the only time he likes it.

On hot nights when no matter how much he turns up the AC for you, you’re still hot, your period giving you hot flashes that you believe are going to be the death of you, you wrap your entire upper body around the cool metal that never seems to change temperature and you finally drift off to sleep. After a night drinking with the girls, Natasha and Pepper dropping you back off at your shared apartment clearly able to hold much more liquor than you (though Bucky notices how Pepper often ends up leaning against the assassin as well before going home) your entire body is hot and you will always strip completely bare to fix the problem. It often leaves Bucky with his own problem that he needs to take care of as he refuses to touch you when you’ve had more than 3 drinks, but once he does and he crawls into bed your body finds its way around the chilled metal and you pass out clinging to him like a baby gorilla attached to its mother.

It makes Bucky feel useful

Like the metal arm can actually do something good for once

Bucky however, hates touching you with it.

If you don’t instigate the contact then he will never let the vibranium touch your perfect skin. He knows that you insist it’s okay, and that you love it but he doesn’t love it. He knows how much you enjoy the metal fingers wrapped around your throat on those nights that you want him to be particularly rough with you and while he will always give you what you want, it scares him to see something that’s brought so much pain to people wrapped around your delicate, perfect throat.

Slowly but surely you are helping him learn to enjoy the prosthetic in some way, even if it takes a while to get there. You are nothing if not patient and that’s one of the things Bucky loves the most about you, he needs patience from people more than anything as he acclimates to living life in this century as a normal person and you know and respect that completely.

He has learned to like you holding his metal hand as well. That one took the longest, he was always afraid of breaking your fingers if he so much as twitched but you let him know he was over reacting just a bit and took your time helping him get used to it. The feeling that he has in the fake limb (which isn’t as much as a real arm but was at least some kind of sensation) was enough that he enjoyed holding your smaller hand in his own, often bringing it to his lips to kiss your skin and sneakily checking to ensure he had not bruised your soft flesh.

The arm has always been an issue for the super soldier and probably always would be in some form, but he can say you’ve helped him enjoy it at least a little bit. He is now seeing some small perks of it which is helping him live with it just a bit more comfortably and that’s all you could ever ask for. And you’re all Bucky could ever ask for.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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ronearoundblindly · 18 days

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Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Romance 🔥 || Smut 🦆 || Author Fave 🍀 || Angst ⛈️ || Fluff 🌼 || Dark Fic 🌘 || *** denotes work for all ages

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist]

Bucky x Reader --

Bath 🌼🔥🦆

Noise 🌼🔥🦆

Fear 🔥⛈️🦆

Clean 🌼🔥🦆

A Long Walk In Winter *** 🌼🔥

A Casual Kiss *** 🌼🔥

A Kiss As Encouragement 🌼🔥

Bucky x OC --

The Stark Legacy (Masterlist)🍀

Ao3 Series: Bucky x Stark's Daughter from an Alternate Timeline to Endgame (epic action/adventure with minor romance)

SAMBUCKY --

Alternate Moves *** 🔥⛈️🌼

When You Wake, Love, I’ll Be There *** 🔥⛈️🌼

What Was Said, We Said For Good *** 🔥⛈️

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#character masterlist #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x sam wilson #winterfalcon #sambucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

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OFF TO THE RACES- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Dark! Stalker! Bucky x Slightly Dark! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: you stumble across an intriguing stranger at your dark and shabby motel you're hiding out at, curious as to who he is. one thing leads to another, and you realize bucky may not be the prince charming he made himself out to be.

WARNING. THIS CONTAINS DARKER CONTENT, SUCH AS STALKING AND SEX POLLEN/ DRUGGING. READ WITH CAUTION.

Warnings: fingering, sex pollen/ drugging, stalking, manipulation, overstim, petnames, swearing, daddy kink, bondage, praise kink, slight dumbification, drugs and booze used, mentions of readers bad past, overstim using pool jets (yup. i did this), catcalling, slight pet play if u squint

“my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam- and he shows me, he knows me, every inch of my tar-black soul. he doesn't mind i have a flat broke-down life- in fact, he says he thinks it's what he might like about me. admires me, the way i roll like a rolling stone”- off to the races, lana del rey

It was quiet, in room 238.

Hollow, and empty.

A shell of something, something once beautiful and bright. Now it was dimmed, a star robbed of its shine and beauty. The cream wallpaper peeled at the edges like wilting flower petals, exposing the roughness of the plaster underneath.

You watched the smoke from your cigarette slither up to the ceiling, past the no smoking sign, intermingling with the faint light that the bedside table provided as it hummed quietly.

The lace sheets were comfortable, you noted, sprawled out on the bed like a child as you breathed in the toxic smoke, feeling the smog coat your throat, your lungs- stealing the breath from you.

It was a good burn. The kind of burn you needed, to fill the emptiness of this room.

But it wasn't all empty, your thoughts chanted at you, your glazed-over eyes noting the shadows that danced across the wallpaper, keeping you company through the night.

They had eyes, you realized. Someone was watching you.

You looked over to the window, watching the curtains sway in the cool gentle breeze as you smushed the butt of your cigarette in the ashtray, perched upon the bible they had left you here.

There was no money between its pages. You had already checked.

Sitting up slowly, padded over to the window, peering out at the rows of closed doors of the motel you had stopped at. It was no Chateau Marmont, but it would have to do, with the spare change in your pocket.

The kind of money that bought the flickering Motel 6 sign outside, the kind of money that bought humming vending machines that never worked, stealing your coins like the men in your past had.

The kind of money that had bought closed windows, the red velvet curtains drawn tightly shut.

Except for one.

You zoned in on the pair of eyes watching you from afar, the hairs on your arms sticking up from his cool gaze.

He was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

The kind of beauty that was near painful to look at, because you knew he would hurt you. His demeanor was dark, the shadows seeming to wrap around him like a cloak, filled with mysteries you urged to find out.

You were enchanted to him, and his crystal blue eyes, the orbs sucking you in greedily as you watched his large, 6’5 figure tilt his head to the side.

To observe you. To take you in, as you were doing to him.

The smokey air was sucked from your lungs as you saw him smirk, the boyish grin plastered across his face making it harder to breathe, as if those very shadows had slipped down your windpipe, crushing your lungs.

You were a deer in headlights, only thinking to gently wave as he gave you a curt nod. His hand snaked out to pull to curtains shut, his shadow still lingering in your room.

A trace of him, you felt, was never leaving. Those cool, blue eyes stayed with you as you undressed in the vanity mirror, taking note of each freckle and beauty mark.

They stayed with you as drew the curtains shut, just as he did a few minutes prior.

It was when you laid your head down, and fell into a deep slumber they haunted your nightmares.

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“ Just a vodka cranberry please.” you requested softly to the bartender behind the counter, his quick nod your only response before he bustled off to fetch the Grey Goose.

You sighed, fingers drumming against the scratched-up mahogany, as you stared at the white towel on the man's shoulder as he made your drink, the pale hanging lights making the pink of your drink seem dull.

Everything in this old bar seemed dull, but you didn't expect much from this part of town. Despite this, it was bustling for a Friday night, the velvet booths filled, and all pool tables and dart boards were occupied.

It was stuffy, a thick haze of smoke above your head, that seemed to trickle into your drink as the bartender slid it over to you. “Thank you sir.”

You prayed for the man behind the counter would say something to the men that had been catcalling you for the past fifteen minutes that you desperately tried to ignore.

He didn't, of course. Why would he?

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you took a sip of your drink, the booze burning as it went down. Definitely too much vodka. One of the men made a comment disgusting enough you fought the urge to hurl, your fingers curling around the chipped wood of the bar in an attempt to stop yourself from clawing their eyes out.

You could feel their eyes on you, staring at the back of your head.

With another pair of eyes.

“Are those men bothering you doll?” the man asked calmly, making you jump.

The eyes.

The man from the motel was leaning against the counter, attempting to shield you from the catcallers, his large figure blocking you from seeing them. You realized just how large he truly was up close, almost needing to crane your head up to gaze at the stubble across his sharp jaw.

“Yes, but I don't want to make a scene. Really, it's fine.”

He shook his head, forehead creasing as he frowned. “No, it's not fine doll. C'mon, I can get you outta here, even if you just wanna go outside from some air. You’re safe with me.”

You nodded, his smooth, silky voice wrapping you up in its embrace making you safe. His arm shrugged around your shoulder, comforting you as he guided you through the busy crowd towards the door.

“Hey where ya goin sweets?” a voice called, making you shiver. “With her boyfriend, you cunt.” the man from the motel hissed, guiding you out the door, into the brisk cool night.

You let out a breath out you didn't know you were holding, inhaling the fresh air like you were starved. “Thank you so much sir.” you said, finally finding the ability to work your vocal cords again.

“Of course. You looked uncomfortable, and I hate seeing pretty girls like you uncomfortable.” he smiled softly, making you blush.

“Can I get your name? If you don't mind… I like to know the names of the damsels I save.” he asked, making you laugh. “Y/N. You?”

“Bucky.” You smiled, the name reminding you of birds chirping on a spring day. It was a gentle name, for a gentleman. “Bucky from 258?”

He laughed, the sound echoing off the broken glass bottles that littered the ground. “The one and only.”

You soon fell into an easy rhythm with the man, picking up a conversation that wasn't awkward. It was… natural. It was nice. You couldn't remember the last time you had shared that with a man.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, the clouds threatening to cover the full moon that hung high in the sky grazing by.

It was late, and it was cold.

Bucky must have sensed your sudden discomfort, checking the golden watch that lingered on his wrist. “Hey, it's late. Why don't I get you back to the motel? I’ve only had a Black Cristal- I’m good to drive.”

“No, no it's okay I can walk. I don't want to trouble you.” He shook his head, firmly grabbing your wrist to guide you over to the parking spot on the far side of the lot, where a black Harley was left, its handlebars gleaming.

“And risk the chance of that happening again? No doll, I promise it's okay. You never know what kind of bad things lurk around here at night.”

His wolfish smile made you shiver, pearly white teeth gleaming like the keys he jangled from his pocket in the pale moonlight. The hairs on your arms raised, goosebumps spreading across your skin as he revved the engine, the loud noise over trampling the muffled conversation and the electric guitar from the jukebox that trickled out of the rickety walls that had previously smothered you.

It was all you could hear, your only option in this dusty, dingy parking lot. Your body moved on its own accord, your leg swinging over the bike, arms wrapping around Bucky's waist, his skin warm to the touch through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Drive slow will ya? I need my head still attached to my body by the end of this.” you teased, attempting to hide your fear as you clung to him tighter, his hands revving the throttle making your heart plummet as he eased out of the parking space.

“Oh sweetheart, there’s one thing you should know about me. I don't do slow.” he laughed, the flickering street light reflecting the wink he threw back at you through the mirrors your only warning to brace yourself before he sped out onto the empty highway.

The adrenaline was pumping through your veins as the clouds of dust and dirt sputtered up behind you, a laugh escaping your lips as you clung to the man tighter.

It was an internal battle with yourself as you sat upon the black leather seat, hating yourself for enjoying this. This… unexpected freedom. You hated the relief you felt with this man, this stranger who had swept in to save you, to come to your rescue.

You had known him for an hour, and you deep down it was wrong, oh so wrong to be so open, be so vulnerable with a stranger as charming as Bucky. You would already hear your father's cruel voice snapping at you for jumping the bones of a man you had just met.

But wasn't that what made it more thrilling?

The sense of freedom that chased after you, a horse clamoring to the finish line was something you hadn't felt in months. It was safe here, with Bucky. No endless running, no flinching anytime there was a knock at your door, a car pulling by a parking lot of any old motel you stayed at.

There was only a calm, safe security on the back of his bike, whipping through your hair as he zoomed past the speed limit, much faster than the numbers that were plastered on it.

Fire seemed to nip at your heels as his tires squealed against the pavement, making you howl in the night, head resting against his back as you clung onto him for dear life.

The scent of his husky cologne and the whipping of the wind roaring in your ears was enough to shield you from the evil smirk that was plastered across Bucky’s face as he drove onwards into the darkness of the night.

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You still sensed his eyes on you, wherever you went. Could still smell that expensive cologne that smelt of wealth and riches, reminding you of times that had been robbed from you.

It had been a few days since your adventure with Bucky, but it was almost as if he never left your presence. He was a ghost during the hours of the day, but the second twilight rolled around- he was there.

He was always there, back in that very spot you first saw him. You wondered where he went in the day.

Did he have a wife and kids he needed to tend to? A job?

The questions nagged at you, drowning you just as the bottle of liquor did that had found its place on the bedside table. He was handsome, and he seemed to have bank for his buck. His motorcycle certainly proved as evidence.

So what was he doing in such a dingy motel? The question stuck with you as you pulled yourself back up from the bed, sheets slightly damp as your hair towel had unraveled itself from around your body.

It was cold in this room when you weren't in the hot water from the shower that lasted approximately two minutes, the water droplets chilling you to the bone.

Bucky wasn't at his place at the curtain tonight, despite it being late. You had been waiting for him all night, but he was a no-show. He seemed to appear at the times you least expected it- catching you off guard.

You sighed, not interested and playing his games as you grew bored of waiting in your towel. It slipped off to the carpet below, and you stepped over to slide a baggy tee over your head.

To your dismay, the bottle of brandy was empty- much like the rest of the motel room was, making you huff in defeat.

I guess it was a Pepsi night after all. you thought, dragging your feet over to the nightstand, propping a cig in your mouth. The lighter flicked to life with a few clicks, and you made your way out the door, sliding the deadbolt from its place.

The air was hot and heavy as you walked outside, humidity seeming to cling to your skin like leather. The smoke you exhaled puffed out to blend with the stickiness, and you pulled out the handful of change you had snatched before letting the door shut behind you.

It was no booze, but it'd have to do for now.

You honestly weren't even sure if you had enough money to buy another bottle, the pricey little scraps of nightgowns and cigarettes taking a chomp of your budget each month.

You were tired, eyes heavy as you followed the dim humming of the old vending machine down the hall. Its bright, blinding lights drew the bugs to it, illuminating a pathway as you trailed after them, smoke still in hand.

The machine was ancient, you were honestly surprised there were still cans in it. Vintage- of course, probably coke that still had literally crack in it. But honestly? You’d take what you could get.

Propping the change in, you heard the coins fall to the bottom, but the drink remained. “Stupid fucker.” you growled, banging the machine harshly with your fist. Of course, it didn't work.

Did anything in your life?

A few kicks and many curse words later, the drink had fallen from its place into the slot, and you snatched it as if the machine would swallow it back up- your smoke long gone as you chugged it back.

You finally made your journey back to the room, desperate to get out of the mugginess. You wondered if Bucky had finally returned to his room for the night, excited to see him in the window again.

Would he be wearing the dark blue button-down you adored so much? Or the red henley?

You were anxious to find out, hand reaching out to unlock the door. But something stopped you.

Swim at 1? I’ll be waiting for you. -B

The paper was taped to the door, fluttering gently in the breeze before you snatched it from the golden plated numbers. A smile dawned on your face, and you opened the door as quickly as you possibly could.

The ticking of the antique clock showed it was quarter to 1, and it seemed to follow you as you grabbed your bathing suit, heading into the bathroom to slip it on.

Mocking you.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Hurry up. Hurry up.

You fixed up your hair, despite knowing it’d get ruined later before you snatched a towel from the rack, slipping on flip-flops the best you could with haste.

The clicking of your sandals bounced off the cement as you heard your door shut behind you, automatically locking you out. You paid no mind as you headed on your way, squeaking of the shoes echoing down the corridor, mixing in with the chirps of the crickets under the full moon.

The pool was behind the motel, hidden away in a little alcove by the bushes. It was quiet and dimmed, only a few odd lights illuminating the space. You felt goosebumps form, the hair on your arms rising as you pushed the gate open.

The creak seemed like a howl as it reverberated through the air eerily. It clanged shut, a voice following it making you jump.

“Hello again, you.” his voice whispered down your spine, emerging from the shadows. “You scared me!” you confessed, hand over your thudding heart as a means to soothe it.

“Did I now doll?” he teased, and you couldn't help but drool as he stepped into the spotlight, water droplets running from his hair down his toned chest.

“You went in without me?”

“Just to see if the water was warm enough.” he winked, making you smile as he reached out a hand- one that you happily took. It was warm and soft despite the night's chill, and you squeezed it out of comfort.

Bucky was safe. He had taken care of you at that bar, and he always looked out for you, even if it was from a distance. You trusted him, oddly enough.

That didn't come easy for a girl like you.

You dropped your towel, fully vulnerable to him in your little red bikini as you watched him step down, falling back into the water. You shoke your head as he nudged you to come in, sitting on the second step and swirling the water with your feet much more your style.

“Um, Bucky?” You were cautious to ask him such a simple, but stupid question in your mind, worried if he would judge you. “Yes starlet?”

“I don't mean for this to sound intrusive but.. where do you go during the day? I only ever see you around here at night.”

He smiled softly. “It's not intrusive at all. I don't mind. I have a job that requires me to rather.. look after people. Making sure they're safe.” he replied, the stern look in his eyes telling you he was advancing with his story any further.

You didn't want to pry anymore.

“What about you?”

“What about me? Where do I go during the day?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I don't do much or go anywhere anymore. I used to though.” you replied, watching the water ripple as your legs sprawled out, feeling weightless as they floated. “What would you do?”

Scam men. Take their cash, until my ex-boyfriend stole it all and left me with no one and nothing.

You sighed, watching his eyes widen with curiosity, seeming intrigued by your silence. You couldn't tell him the truth, obviously. He’d have you tossed away in the county jail behind the old, rusty bars you shuttered at each time you had visited your father in the years prior.

So you did what you always did. Lied.

“I had an office job, one I couldn't stand if I’m being honest with you. So I left, and well..”

“Found yourself here?” You nodded. “Exactly. Now I’m here, swimming with a man I barely know, drinking cheap Pepsi and smoking shit cigarettes.” you laughed as Bucky swam closer to you, his hand grazing your thigh.

“Is that such a bad thing? We have so much time to get to know each other sweetheart. Endless amounts.” he smirked, panting a little kiss to your thigh and the water droplets stuck to it.

You welcomed it with open arms, feeling your chest expand as you leaned forward towards him. “Should we cheers to that? With shitty Pepsi?”

“I got something even better.” he laughed, water splashing as he stepped out of the pool, dripping a trail down onto the concrete as he walked to fish something from his bag he left on the plastic recliners.

Glass clinked as he pulled out two whisky glasses, and a bottle of bourbon to match. You clapped in delight, his back turning once more as he set them down, pouring little amounts into each cup.

“I don't have any ice but I hope this does the trick.” he smiled, jogging back over to sit with you upon the step. “It's perfect. Better than vending machine shit.” you joked, giggling as he raised his glass up.

“Cheers to us- meeting. And vending machine shit.”

“Cheers!”

Clink! The booze was bitter as you swigged it back, burning your taste buds as you let out a little cough.

“That shit is strong.” you gasped, shaking your head as if that would help it go down better. Bucky's eyebrows rose as he slowly sipped his, setting the glass down next to yours.

“But hey, you drank it! Good girl.” he exclaimed, nudging your shoulder.

Good girl. Damn him for taping into your praise kink.

“I think we best stick to fruitier drinks if we're going to be drinking during dates. From now on, it's a club rule.”

“A date eh?”

You shrugged, trying to act as if his charming persona wasn't getting under your skin.

“I mean, what else would this be? People go on dates to get to know each other. And I wanna know you Bucky.”

A gust of wind blew through the air, ratting the tree leaves as you shivered, his hand slipping into yours to give it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. Let's start in the pool, okay?”

“Buts it freeing in there.” you complained, watching in awe as he dipped his body back in, as if the chill didn't have a single effect on him.

“I’ll keep you warm doll. I promise.” His arms reached out, encouraging you to get in them, to wrap your body against his larger build like a teddy bear. “You promise?”

“First thing about me sweetheart, is that I would never lie to you. C'mon, you're safe with me.”

He had protected you last time when no one else had. Listen to him Y/N. You know you want to.

You nodded, hissing as the water brushed against you the deeper you sank, arms reaching out towards him as you submerged fully into the water. Your teeth chattered, Bucky's large arms scooping you up as you clung closer to him.

“There we go. See, it’s not so bad.”

“It's pretty bad. You're just saying that to make me feel better.” you shivered, his body shaking from his loud chuckle. “Maybe I am. But nonetheless, you listened to me. Didn’t you?”

Yes. Of course I did.

“We’ll get out soon. I just wanted an excuse to see you in that adorable bathing suit.” he confessed, making you roll your eyes, burying your face into his neck as he swayed you.

“Smartie pants. I could have just shown you in my room. Where there is no freezing pool water.” you growled.

“You can still show me in your room after this, if you'd like.” Your heartbeat quickened, beating so fast he could feel it thumping against his chest at his words.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you sweetheart? Hmm?” he looked down at you, teasing you.

“Maybe I would.” you confessed shyly, fighting the urge to nibble his skin, breathing in his cologne again. “But I still don't know anything about you. It'd be pretty dumb for me to invite a man to my room if I didnt at least know his favorite animal.”

“Cats.” he smiled softly. “Long haired ones- to be exact. I'm a Pieces, and I drink my coffee with one cream, no sugar. Lord of the Rings is one of the best book seres ever made, and white lace is my favorite on you.”

You were stunned.

Well you sure as hell weren't expecting that.

“Really? The white lace?”

“It makes you look so dainty and delicate. Like an angel.” he breathed, his compliments making you more excited by the minute. The sudden urge, primal and needy took over your body, your head seeming to get cloudy as it became harder and harder to think.

The air seemed even mugger then it was before, its stretch lingering of Buckys cologne. It was intoxicating. You weren't sure where this sudden need came from, but it was all you could feel.

Tingles erupted on your body as the water brushed against your thighs, Bucky's hand coming up to stroke your hair.

“Bucky? Don’t you feel it's a bit… warm out here now?” you asked,, confused as you felt sweat linger at your temple. “Weren't you just saying how cold it was and how you wanted to leave?” he joked, holding you closer to him as he slowly walked over towards the side of the pool.

Yea, yea I know. Is just now…. it's getting hard to think. I'm not sure whats going on.” you confessed, watching as the jets started to kick on, bubbling against your thigh.

“Well, you gotta use that dumb little girl brain to tell me what you need okay? So that way I can help you, and we can get you feeling all better.” he reassured, his words making you dizzy.

“M’just- It's so tingly. I don't even know…” you trailed off, feeling woozy.

“That's okay doll. Just set your hands on the side of the pool and hang on real tight mkay?” he helped place your hands on the concrete, smiling as you obeyed.

“There we go, atta girl. You're just feeling a lil funny so I'm gonna take all the funny feelings away. I'll get you feeling all better okay?” he murmured, an arm wrapped around your abdomen to hold you in place as his fingers started to pull down your bottoms.

“Bucky please.. please help me-”

“Shh, shh be nice and quiet for Daddy okay? You just gotta take what I give you, just remember I’m helping you.” he cooed softly, tossing your bottoms somewhere else amongst the pool, watching them float away as he had you under his control.

“I think the drink.. was too strong..” you panted, hand leaving the concrete to briefly squeeze your breast through the thin bikini fabric, nipples hardened and tender as they poked through.

“Too much for a poor thing like you to handle.” he smirked, fingers slipping down under the water to pull apart your folds to expose your little bundle of nerves, all swollen and puffy.

“I feel- I feel-” you stuttered, throat seeming clogged as you fought to find the words, head lolling back with a mona as Bucky adjusted your clit against the throbbing jet.

“You're being so good for me sweetheart. I know, I know it's so much but this is what you need okay? You need this.” His voice seemed to itch the insides of your brain, dusting at the cobwebs as you rolled your eyes back, lost in pleasure.

It was overwhelming, the shocks that jolted throughout your body as the powerful bubbles hit you.Bucky helped you down helplessly as you squirmed and whined, your body feeling as if it would simply combust at the seams.

“Bucky-”

“Shush angel. It's just so difficult isn't it? Having those pent-up feelings?” he asked rhetorically, knowing you were much too far gone to answer. His fingers slipped inside your aching hole, and your walls clenched around him as you sucked him in.

“That's the spot. There we go, I know baby, daddy knows.” he smiled as you whimpered, drool beginning to seep from your lips as you babbled inherently, the sex pollen Bucky had slipped in your drink taking ahold.

Not that you realized- of course.

“Please mgh-” Your walls tightened around him, muscles spasming as he played you like an instrument, wrist flicking and twisting as he brushed your insides.

“Who's my good girl? Hmm? Who's my pretty little angel?”

“I am!” you moaned, cumming on his fingers with a cry, the pressure in your body snapping- unable to take anymore. Your orgasm rocked through you, vision spotting as Bucky cooed sweet praises in your ears.

They sounded muffled, like he had sunken you under the water. Your grip loosened on the concrete, nails scratching the smoothed surface as you felt the waves of sleep pull you under into the darkness.

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It was cold again once you woke.

The fire that sizzled in your core had gone out, embers no longer crackling as you felt the chill air from the air conditioner blast on your skin. Your throat ached, vision blurry as you blinked them open from sleep.

The room was dim, a small bedside table lamp lit beside you. It looked almost identical to your room, the familiar eyes even here as you slowly regained consciousness.

Had you passed out and Bucky had brought you back to your room?

You went to sit up, but something had jolted your body back. Something rubbed your wrists as you jerked, and you winced in pain as you looked down at the bounds that secured your arms in place.

Then it hit you.

You were drugged. Bucky had slipped something in your drink.

Fear swallowed you whole, and you croaked out a scream as you thrashed. Bucky came darting out from the closed bathroom door, eyes dark as he stormed over to you, hand covering your mouth to muffle the sound.

“There she is! Finally awake at last.”

You whimpered, whining into his palm as he pinned you down, stooping your useless fighting. “Shh, shh you have to stay quiet sweetheart. No more noise, or I’ll have to do something I really, really dont wanna do.” he sighed, shaking his head in disappointment as tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m going to remove my hand, but you gotta stay quiet. Got it?” You nodded, too frightened to fight him. He slowly removed his hand, revealing your parted lips that were clamped shut, your eyes frantically scanned the room.

Photos of you were taped across the back wall, scribbles and lines drawn all across it like a maze. You shuddered, looking at the dozens of candids taken of you, dated back to your scamming days.

Who was this man? And how long had he been watching you?

“Who.. who are you Bucky?” you whispered, heartbeat racing faster and faster by the second. “

Your guardian.” he said cooly, as if stalking you and having you bound to a bed was an everyday occurrence for him .

It probably was. You weren't sure what to believe anymore.

A second bed was placed beside you, though no one occupied that one. You looked at him with horror, making him chuckle dryly as he sat back in the bed, hand coming up to brush a stray hair from your face.

“Don’t look at me like that angel. You know you'd be dead if it weren't for me? You should be thanking me.” he expressed, trying to soothe your anxiety.

“What do you mean?” you asked timidly, fingers gripping onto the rope that secured you down, trying to fight back the fight or flight response that was kicking into overdrive.

“I know what you've done to people angel. I’ve known for so long now. Do you know how many powerful people wanted you dead? They could have ended your little doe-eyed frame in a second. I couldn't let a pretty little thing like you die.” he murmured, a small smile blooming across his face as he looked over at his board with accomplishment.

”They all wanted you dead kitten. I couldn't let my little girl go through something like that.”

“I just..- I don’t understand Bucky.” you wept, tears salty as they ran down your cheeks.

“I know you don’t angel, I wasn't expecting you to. Still too dumb for that. But I have all the time in the world to show you how much you mean to me.”

“All the time in the world? Bucky I have to go back-” He growled, pinning your hands back down as you struggled to get up, uncontrollably sobbing.

“No, no don’t you see? Your mine now.”

“Ours, now Buck.” a voice called from the shadows, the shock burning through your body holding you as still as a statue in his arms.

Bucky stepped out from the shadows, except it wasn't really Bucky.

Bucky was coaxing you down upon his bed as the second man stepped out.

“Don’t get it twisted Steve. I saw her first, therefore she's mine.”

It was then you realised this man, identical down to the bold, blue eyes that stared down at you in your dreams, was wearing the dark blue button-up you adored.

Bucky wore the red henley that drove you insane at night, that had caused your hand to dip down between your legs in the odd hours of the night.

“Twins.” Bucky responded to your unspoken question, rolling his eyes at Steve, who stood watching you as he leaned against the wall- smirk plastered on his face as his arms crossed against his chest.

You gulped, throat dry and hoarse despite all the tears that had fallen to your lips, wetting them slightly.

“C'mon Bucky boy. Pets can have multiple owners, don’t you remember this?”

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@buckysboobs i luv u

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pascaloverx · 4 months

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As It Was (S2)

Chapter Twelve

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: You have a bold idea that obviously leads you and Bucky into an argument. Who doesn't like a wedding?

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

"That's the craziest invention you've ever had, Melisa. Did your ex-husband agree to this whole strategy?" Sam asks after you tell him your plan to capture Steve and Killian.

"What makes you believe I told him before I told the four of you?" I speak confidently that they will see things as I do.

"To recap, do you want to be bait in a fake wedding; making two dangerous men come after you?" Yelena seems to have understood the premise of my genius plan.

"Yes, this marriage will make them want to burn the archives. Despite my father's evidence, the fact that they tried to kill me makes everything worse." The reality is that I can't run away forever. Not knowing when something might happen to you or someone you love.

"What if they don't show up? Are you going to marry Barnes again?" Sam says it like it's the most unlikely thing in the world, considering I was married to Barnes once.

"Whatever, it's better to take a risk and not work out, than to do nothing and live in fear." I say, determined to make this weak team help me capture the man who killed my father and the man who almost killed me.

"I agree with Melisa, living in fear doesn't do any good. Not to mention that her marrying Bucky isn't the end of times. We'll be there to protect the engaged couple after all." Wanda speaks, trying to seek support in her wife's eyes, but Yelena seems unsatisfied.

"This could go very wrong, you could die, we could die too because Barnes won't accept this and we will have to do it without his cooperation. So if everything goes wrong he will take it out on us." Sam's right, Barnes will probably be pissed at them and if I survive at most I'll get two weeks without sex as punishment.

"But if we don't do anything to help Melisa, these two cowards will haunt her life. My friend spent months in a hospital bed and wants her peace back. I think we should give her that." Dave he says with authority, trying to show himself as a supporter of this plan. I hug him gently.

"Give what, to whom?" James Barnes came out of his eternal bath wearing a robe. Look, I didn't tell him about the plan but I know he's going to hate it.

"His ex-wife had an unusual idea to solve a problem. We're trying to figure out if it's worth trying." Yelena responds to Barnes, who looks confused.

"Funny, my ex-wife hasn't said anything to me in the days we've been together. At least nothing about this plan." You know that weird feeling like you're going to get fucked? I'm feeling it now.

"That's because she didn't feel you were ready to accept that plan." I say quietly as if I wished I didn't have to say anything.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much does Melisa put herself in danger in her plan?" He asks, clearly speaking to the rest of the group.

"Nine." Exactly everyone says it together, as if they were synchronized. Barnes looked at me as if to say, now you know why I don't like his plan.

"Baby, there's no way I'm going to agree to this plan. You at least suggested being bait to catch the two mother fuckers that almost killed you and I." It's funny how he says this minutes before grabbing me by the waist and kissing me on the cheek.

"I'm not going to give up on the plan, Barnes. I love you and I respect you. I would like you to respect my plan and follow it. But if you don't, I'll go through with it without you." I said looking into the eyes my ex. I know he wants the best for me but I can't live in this way forever.

"Do you want to end up like your father?" He responds sharply and I move away from him. I think we went back to the beginning of our relationship again. He wants to have the last word and I want to do what's best for me.

"Better to end up like him, than to live a life of fear and cowardice. If you don't understand me, that's your problem. But if you love me that much, you should support me and protect me. It was exactly for this reaction that I didn't tell you the plan." I say this hoping he will say something, say he will accept the plan or that I can't count on him. But I get silence. In fact, he left the house that was once ours and left without saying a word.

"I changed my mind, I'll support you in this. If you need a new fiancé, I'm available. Now I'm going to go and see where your husband went." Sam says kissing my cheek and going after Barnes.

"I still think this plan is crazy but if you're willing to fight Barnes over this, it must be important to you. Count on me, for any plan you have." Yelena says giving me a look of support. I am grateful for her decision to help me.

"These idiots and I are going to help you. Either way we're going to get Steve and Killian. One way or another." Wanda says hugging me and then saying goodbye. Just me and Daven left.

"Wine and ice cream?" Dave says, throwing himself on the couch and turning on my TV. You nod your head, hoping that some movie will take your argument with Barnes out of your mind. To think he was so angry that he came out in a bathrobe. It's even funny.

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marvelvillian23 · 9 months

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Does anyone know any Basement Wife fics. Multi chapter preferably but any fic will do.

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gghalcyon · 6 months

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Halcyon Echoes Vault

I'm Gigi (she/her) and I write fanfiction for various fandoms which you can check out at Ao3. I post and cross-post current obsessions here, along with stories I've written about my favorite characters. Requests are always open.

CALL OF DUTY (COD) STORIES

MULTI-CHAPTER

Textuals: König x F!Reader | Rated: Explicit | Chapters: P1, P2, P3, P4, P5, P6, P7. | When König is away on missions, the only thing that tethers him to you is the text messages you exchange. These are the texts and memories tied to them ranging from romantic sweet nothings to mutual fantasies.

Fierce Hearts: König x F!Original Character | Rated: Explicit | Chapters: C1, C2, C3, C4, C5, C6. | König returns from the battlefield and back to civilian life, adrift and alone, until he meets Serene and find begin an unexpected romance.

ONE-SHOTS AND DRABBLE

Confession: König x F!Reader | Rated: Explicit | One-shot | König growled against the skin of your neck, and you shivered as he swept his lips from your shoulder to your ear and murmured, "You're perfection. Hot and eager just for me."

Love Me Rough: König x F!Reader | Rated: Explicit | One-shot | König gives you precisely what you want. Rough. Crazed. And everything in between. Until you are screaming his name.

The Floor Can Wait: König x F!Original Character | Rated: Explicit | One-shot | König loves spanking her, followed by a bath where she ends up on top, water splashing all over the bathroom floor as she rides him. The floor can wait.

My Sweet One: König x F!Original Character | Rated: Explicit | One-shot | König doesn't just lean in for a taste. No – he devours her until she sees stars. Then he calls her his Meine Süße (my sweet one).

A Promise Made: König x F!Original Character | Rated: Explicit | One-shot | König doesn't do one-night stands. "You are incredible," he whispered in her ear. "I can't wait to make you feel like this again." That was a promise.

NIGHTSHADE (F!OC) x KÖNIG

Nightshade's Character Profile: Original Female Character | Rated: General | My profile for my original female character named Gia "Nightshade" Matthews.

König Headcanon Character Profile: Headcannon | Rated: General | My head-canon profile of König, including his name, and how he looks underneath the mask.

MISC. FANDOMS STORIES

A Taste So Sweet: Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | Rating: Mature | Words: Part 1/1 (2.3K Words) | Synopsis: Bucky Barnes gets a bewitching Halloween treat when Sarah Wilson appears at his doorstep, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Trick r’ treat!” she said, as their eyes met in a knowing.

The Sweetest Risk: Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | Rating: General | Words: Part 1/1 (1.0K Words) | Synopsis: Bucky Barnes shoots his shot and finally ask Sarah Wilson on a date.

Delicious: Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | Rating: General | Words: Part 1/1 (706 Words) | Synopsis: Bucky Barnes and Sarah Wilson go on a coffee date on a rainy day.

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑋𝑋𝐼𝐼. 𝐿𝑂𝑁𝐺 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑌 𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑅𝑇, 𝐼 𝑆𝑈𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑉𝐸𝐷

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XXI

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, painfully sweet fluff, explicit sexual content (quickie, breeding kink, lil bit of cum play, dirty talk), planned pregnancy, happily ever after

❧ Wordcount | ~12.2k

❧ Author’s Note | Welcome to the end! It's been a long ride but it's finally all here. If you followed along, please enjoy! xx.

And he's passing by Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky And he feels like home, If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go ( long story short | evermore )

June 13, 2025

Life moved fast when everything finally fell into place. There was no discussion of labels or rules like there had been before—there wasn’t any need. Things returned to the way that they’d been before the speedbump. Most of their nights were spent together anyway, they ran errands like picking up groceries or taking Alpine to the groomers, and split chores—so, it only felt natural when Maggie finally asked him to move in just two months after telling him that she loved him.

Without any hesitation, Bucky had accepted the offer. Picking her up, she’d giggled as he’d carried her down the hall to, what would soon be, their bedroom. Nothing actually changed too much when he eventually took up residence in 3C—he knew how much she enjoyed the little pink accents that were sprinkled around and, if they made her happy, then he was happy too. Sure, their things mixed together as two homes became one, but most things stayed the same.

One thing that did change, however, was the contents of their walls. Finally, together, they hung up pictures of their families and friends—past and present. It was like some beautiful mosaic of everyone that they’d ever loved. Her mom and dad made several appearances along with Tony and Natasha, there were several of his sister, and parents, even the nieces and nephew that she’d finally convinced him to reach out to.

There were more than a handful of framed photos containing the Howling Commandos that she’d never met, and even more with Steve. He wasn’t a sore subject anymore. No longer did Maggie reminisce about their short, but beautiful, time together, nor did Bucky see him as some distant threat in the rearview mirror.

It had taken time, but they’d both eventually found peace.

In some ways, Steve was the reason that they’d found one another. Even in his absence, he brought them together and she could only hope that, somewhere out there, he knew how grateful she was—how grateful they both were. It had been so agonizing, losing him to a history she hardly knew, but Bucky was like a summer storm that had washed her clean and kept her warm.

He’d been worth all of the pain. Every rip and tear and gouge and scrape had been worth him.

Loving him was easy—it felt so natural, like she’d been doing it all her life. They fit into each other’s lives like missing puzzle pieces, cut from the same board; everything just worked. Their morning routines had meshed seamlessly; he got her coffee while she did her makeup, and she packed their lunches from the things she’d prepared the night before. He’d kiss her goodbye then pull her back in for another, ‘just for good measure,’ he’d say.

Their bedtime routine, however, had become the most sacred part of her day; she loved it. After dinner, they’d do the dishes and watch some inane television shows for a few hours before retiring. It was comfortable; there was nothing left to hide anymore. Over time, he’d become less and less self-conscious about his arm with her and she wore zit cream and her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses around the apartment.

In the evenings, she’d shower, occasionally Bucky would join, and they’d lose track of time for an hour or so, then he’d sit in the bathroom with her as she did her skincare, silently watching through the steamy mirror as she swiped essences and creams over her warm, clean skin. After brushing their teeth, they’d climb into bed and Alpine would curl up between their feet for the long night ahead.

This was what the little creature had wanted all along. Maybe his little parent trap attempt earlier in the year had failed, but the couple had finally figured it out and now he had both of them, all of the time.

As she turned the last page in her book’s chapter, Maggie could feel his eyes burning into her side profile and she refrained from giving him a pointed look as she finished the short passage. Tucking the bookmark between the thin pages, she stretched as she placed it on her nightstand and flipped the lamp’s switch. They were plunged into darkness aside from the golden glow of the streetlamp that streamed through the blinds.

It had been quite a wild Friday night for the lovers. They’d had a movie date after he’d ordered from her favorite Chinese place, and they’d still landed in bed before midnight. Moving to lay down and settle beneath the seasonally thin comforter that she’d placed on their bed—god, she’d never get tired of saying ‘their’—Maggie let out a giggle as a pair of thick, mismatched arms rolled her over to face the opposite direction instead.

“Well, hello there.” His clear blue eyes were grinning as she threaded her arms around his neck, pleasantly surprised at the maneuver that had resulted in their bodies being pressed together, “Can I help you?”

“You’re so beautiful.” The kiss that he caught her lips with was smooth and languid. His warm tongue caressed hers and she tangled her fingers in his hair, playing with the strands that had begun to grow out. Six months later, they were still enrobed in a blanket of bliss, and she couldn’t foresee that changing anytime soon.

As they parted, searching for oxygen to remedy their dizzy heads, he exhaled with a breathless laugh, “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.” Maggie murmured, throwing her leg around his hip, and hooking her foot behind his calf as she curled closer into this chest. When she slept, she had this little habit of clinging to him like a koala and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was the cutest damn thing that he’d ever seen.

“Me either.” His voice rumbled contentedly, and she smiled into his chest, her lips brushing the warm skin there. It was quiet for a long moment and the movement from each of his breaths began to lull her to sleep before he took a deep inhale, his hand still drifting up and down her back as he finally whispered, “Run away with me.”

Maggie’s breath hitched and she stilled, pulling away just the slightest bit so she could see his face. Her brow furrowed as she found him already staring down at her intently, waiting for any reaction, “What?”

“I’m done.” Shaking his head, he clarified with an exhaustion that had seeped down, deep into his bones after so many years of nonstop conflict. The feeling had been weighing on him for months, “I’m done fighting. I’ve been doing it for so long and I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” She exhaled, brushing some hair from his forehead as she held his gaze. There was a part of her that knew what he was asking, but she needed to hear it more plainly—especially if she wanted to give him the answer that he so desperately wanted and deserved.

“You said that I just had to choose, right?” As she gave him a curious nod, Bucky flicked the lamp back on and sat up slowly, pulling her with him as he continued with an intensity that made her chest tight, “So that’s what I’m doing—I’m choosing. I choose this. I choose us. I want everything with you, Maggie.”

The cool vibranium hand cupped her cheek as his face softened; the eyes hidden behind her glasses were wide as she took in his words. The warm cinnamon hue was so comforting, so beautiful as they found the cool, sky-blue shade of his own—they couldn’t have been more different, but they felt like home to him.

She felt like home.

In the short time since knowing her, she’d become his northern star. No matter where they were, or how long they were parted for, he knew that if he found his way back to her, nothing else mattered. She was like a shot of espresso or the warm sun, something that had brought him back after so many years of walking through life, half-asleep and begging for time to pass faster.

Now, he didn’t know if they’d ever have enough of it. No amount of time could ever be enough with her.

It felt like his heart was wide open, hers for the taking or breaking, as he laced the fingers of his other hand with hers and took a tremulous breath, “Run away with me. Let’s leave the city and make something that’s just for us.”

She blinked.

He was really asking her to run away with him.

She’d done it alone so many times before; it had become like a routine. Run, build everything from the ground up, start over, and repeat when everything inevitably fell apart again. But what if it didn’t?

Things weren’t falling apart—they were finally falling into place. In a few months, her contract with the Stark Relief Foundation would be up. Then what? Her work, for the most part, would be done. There were no more children to reunite with families, no more fires to be doused—maybe it was time for a new adventure but, for once, she didn’t have to be alone.

They could start over somewhere new, together.

For the first time, there was a possibility that she could start over with someone by her side and it felt good.

“Okay.” The word was almost a whisper as a nervous excitement began to flood her body, electricity and nerves tingling her fingertips as she agreed with an almost bobble head-like nod, a grin spreading across her lips, “Yes. Let’s do it, let’s go.”

“Really?” His cautious smile matched hers as he pulled her on to his lap, pressing kisses all over her face before capturing her lips victoriously as she giggled. Her legs parted, slotting his hips between them as her bare knees pressed into the soft, wrinkled sheets. His hands on her waist stilled as he pulled back, with a secret smile and little hum as if he’d only just remembered something. “Okay, then. Just, one more thing…”

Leaning over, she watched with a furrowed brow as he opened the drawer of his nightstand and rifled through it, easily finding the singular item that he was seeking. It had been tucked away in a little, silk satchel for five months—he knew that he’d need it sometime soon enough. It was like things moved in slow motion as the faceted stone caught the warm, dim light and she knew.

Her hands dropped from his shoulders as Bucky held the ring before her, tucked gingerly between the pads of his thumb and index fingers. The gold band was dainty as it supported the brilliant, oval diamond that sent light refracting off the walls. On each side, it was flanked by smaller clusters of diamonds that sparkled with each slight movement—she’d never seen something so beautiful.

“Marry me.”

Tearing her eyes from the ring, she found his already on her. There was a softness behind them that only served to melt her further. In her entire life, no one had ever looked at her that way—like she’d painstakingly hung the moon and painted each and every infinite star in the night sky.

Sometimes it still made her head spin to know that he loved her that much.

Maggie could hear the way her heart was beating in her ears, blood rushing and swirling around as she took in the question. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know that she would marry him someday—that was a given. She just didn’t know that it would be so soon.

Opening and closing her mouth, it felt like nothing was coming out until she whispered, “What?”

“I want it all with you, Maggie.” Taking her left hand, his thumb rubbed the back of it soothingly as he watched her take in the moment. “Every single thing.”

For the first time in her entire adult life, the idea of marriage wasn’t sending her reeling or running. She was content, right here. Squeezing his hand tightly, she looked back to the ring that was still in his vibranium grip and exhaled with a wobbly lower lip, “Bucky…”

“When you love someone, you choose them again and again even when things are hard or don’t make sense.” Resting his forehead against hers, the moment was quiet, intimate. It was something that she wanted to save forever in a little keepsake box and look back on it when she was a hundred years old.

That old piece of her, the part that had always told her how hard she was to love, was dumbfounded—he really, truly wanted to marry her.

“I promise that I will always choose you, Maggie.” The warm, wet tears traced shiny tracks down her bare cheeks, making her glasses blurry as she sniffled. Wiping the evidence of her overflowing heart away with his thumb, Bucky’s voice was soft as he continued, “I know that this is scary, and I know that you’ve already gone through every single scenario of how this can go badly but I’m sure of this. Of us. I have never been so sure of anything else in my entire life.”

Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the back of it, “I love you, so, please say you’ll marry me. Let’s do this together.”

She knew that Bucky had never really been given much of a choice at any point in his life. He didn’t get to choose if he went to war or what side to fight for, he didn’t get to choose if his best friend stayed or returned to the past, but he could choose her. He was choosing her.

“I love you.” With a watery smile, taking his face in her hands, she pulled him down to her lips with as much strength as she could muster. The little chuckle that came from his chest shook her as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, anchoring her to him—he’d always be her port in a storm.

Pulling himself away, he allowed a tentative smile to take up residence on his face as he looked down at her, “So, is that a yes?”

A breathless laugh was pulled from her parted lips as she nodded through the tears, “Of course, it’s a yes.”

Taking her hand, he stared at her wonderstruck expression as he slid the ring on her finger easily—like Cinderella and the glass slipper.

Staring at the large rock, she’d expected it to feel heavy once it found its home on her finger, but it didn’t—she felt weightless, like nothing could ever bring her back down to earth. Giggling excitedly, Maggie flung her arms around him, and he pretended to be forced back on to the bed by her momentum with a quiet ‘oof!’

“I wanna marry you right now.” He murmured, rolling them over and propping himself up with his elbows as he hovered above her. Lacing their fingers together, he couldn’t take his eyes from his ring on her finger. She wanted to marry him. Pressing his lips to her jaw, he hummed thoughtfully, “You think city hall is open now?”

“I need a dress!” She protested with a grin, shaking her head though a part of her knew that if city hall really was open, she’d marry him in a heartbeat.

“You could get married in this,” Bucky’s fingers plucked at the strap of her lacy, ivory nightie with a salacious grin as he devoured her with his eyes, “I’m pretty partial to it.”

Rolling her eyes, she got out through her giggles, “I am not getting married in something that you can see my nipples through!”

With a big sigh, he pouted immaturely, “I thought you loved me.”

“And I can’t get married without Poppy.” The hand she’d rested on his back slid down to his ass and she couldn’t resist giving it a little pinch as she pointed out, “She’d kick both of our butts for even thinking about it.”

With a groan, he pressed his face into the pillow beside her head and she added, “Six months at the most.” His groan grew louder through the feather down cushion, making Alpine hiss at the sound. Landing a playful smack to his sleep-pants covered bottom, she chastised with a little smile, “Stop being a dick.”

Propping himself back up, Bucky huffed pointedly, “Is that any way to talk to your husband?”

“You mean my fiancé?” She corrected with a raised brow.

“I guess I could get used to that…for now.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers and pulled back, making a dissatisfied Maggie grumble as he added, “But, if you aren’t my wife in six months, I’m carrying your cute little ass the whole way to the courthouse, dressed just like this, and we’re getting hitched. Got it?”

With a decisive nod, she eagerly agreed, “Got it.”

“Now,” Sitting back on his haunches, between her legs, he played with the satin hem of her sleepwear and pushed it up her thighs slowly with a glint in his eye as he innocently suggested, “We should get some practice in for the wedding night.”

Her bottom lip was swollen and cherry red from the way her teeth had dug into it before she nodded absently, “Very prudent, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes.” He winked as the silky fabric was pushed higher and higher.

She didn’t even bother to correct him; he’d be right soon enough anyway.

November 8, 2025

It had been a small, intimate affair. Less than fifty people total in attendance, it was exactly what Maggie had always wanted her wedding to be like. There was no need for faking smiles or forcing small talk when the only ones that were invited, were the ones you loved the most.

It didn’t even really feel much like a wedding at all; it was more like a dinner party where two attendees just happened to elope. It was perfect. She wasn’t anxious, there was no black abyss of panic deep inside of her—she was filled with pure contentment.

The little dancefloor hidden in the midst of the city’s botanical gardens was mostly empty, lit by the crisscrossing strands of fairy lights that had been strung from trees high above it. It was unseasonably warm for November; the evening was cool, but a warm breeze drifted through the party, ruffling napkins and dresses and green centerpieces every so often.

The saxophone and horn-heavy ‘Moonlight Serenade’ drifted smoothly from speakers that were hidden amidst flowers and shrubbery as Bucky guided her around the floor. It was otherwise silent as their guests’ eyes stayed trained on the couple’s stolen moment. Everyone there knew how much it meant for them.

The white hem of her gown brushed the floor with each sway, making her look like she was walking on air. It was how she felt though—completely weightless in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder comfortably as his fingers brushed against the buttons that traveled up her spine and kept the silk edges of her bodice together.

Finding the dress had been pure serendipity but as soon as she saw it in the shop, she’d known that it was the one. She and Poppy hadn’t even been looking for wedding gowns, but the blonde had implored her to go inside when they’d passed a bridal boutique on the way to brunch on one late-summer morning. It had been on a mannequin in the back corner of the shop but there’d been no question—it was coming home with her.

The heavy, A-line gown had the most delicate floral design woven into the silk wool skirt, forcing the illusion of texture, but otherwise, it was the simplicity that had made her fall in love. Thin, silk straps rested daintily on her shoulders; the camisole top had a deep, plunging neckline that was connected only with a panel of mesh.

When Bucky had seen her from the other end of the aisle, it felt like they were the only two in the small greenhouse venue. Surrounded by greenery and little white flowers and tulle, he was the only thing that mattered. She knew the smile on his face could warm her even on the darkest arctic nights—and it was all for her. For them.

So many times, Maggie had thought that she knew what the rest of her life would look like but this time, she knew it was right. It was forever. No more back and forth, no more trying to tread water and keep from drowning—now it was them. Just them.

When the song ended and everyone else flooded the floor, the newlyweds were separated by friends and well-wishers or, in Maggie’s case, a giggly six-and-a-half-year-old flower girl. Barely having time to brush her lips with her new husband’s before he was pulled away with an apology from Sam, she crouched down to Morgan’s level with a grin.

Adjusting the dainty, green and cream flower crown that rested atop the little girl’s light brown hair, she raised her voice over the music that had picked up, “Having fun, Stork?”

“Yes!” Nodding excitedly, causing the crown to go askew again, much to Maggie’s amusement, Morgan grabbed her godmother’s hand, “Mommy let me have some of the sparkling juice so I could be like her, but I couldn’t try hers because she said it was only for the grownups. And Uncle Happy gave me twenty dollars to play keep away with Uncle Rhodey’s phone. And everyone keeps saying I look like a princess, but I think it’s just because the dress is so fluffy.”

Smiling amusedly at the way the younger girl strung each statement together like it was a cohesive story instead of a stream of childlike consciousness, Maggie laughed softly and enveloped her in a tight hug which Morgan returned happily. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as she allowed herself just one split second of grief amid the celebration.

She would have given anything for those that she’d lost to have been there—Natasha, her parents, Tony, even Steve. After she lost her dad, she’d always thought that she’d ask her godfather to walk her down the aisle when the time came, but he’d been taken from her too. Sometimes life wasn’t really fair, but she’d learned to live with it.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured it, but it had been perfect, nonetheless.

Pieces of everyone remained—she wore a necklace that Natasha had given her, one of Steve’s silk ties had secured her bouquet, the comb holding her veil in place had belonged to her dad’s mother and her own had worn it on her wedding day, and then she had Morgan.

A living, breathing piece of Tony was more precious than any physical thing he could have left to her.

“Magpie,” Morgan’s little voice was bashful as she sweetly requested, “can we dance?”

“Of course, we can!” Standing, she dabbed at her eyes before pulling Morgan back out on to the floor, between all their friends and loved ones. The music was loud, some of the laughter even louder, as she spun her goddaughter around the floor, giggling all the while. After three songs, the white, patent leather pumps were beginning to kill her feet, but she didn’t have the heart to deny Morgan yet another dance.

Her savior came in the form of a tall, heavy-set man who was, unsurprisingly, wearing his typical suit and tie combo. Happy asked to cut in, offering to dance with the younger Stark as Maggie sought reprieve. Mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as he took over, she flinched as she glided to the bar in search of a drink.

As soon as her fingers had wrapped around the fragile stem and brought the glass to her lips, a heavy pair of arms slipped around her waist, and she smiled into the sip of crisp white wine. Replacing the glass, she leaned back against the broad hard chest that she could feel behind her, her hands finding the fraternal ones and lacing their fingers together.

“If it isn’t my husband,” The painful heels that encased her feet brought her closer to Bucky’s height, so she only had to turn her head to find his lips, exchanging a chaste kiss as the party fell into the background. He hummed as the sweet, tart liquid on her lips bled into his mouth. Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him, the gold shadow gilding her eyelids and making her look angelic.

In his life, he’d known the burning red of lust and infatuation, the blue of loss, the black of fear and pain, but he hadn’t known that love was golden until he met Maggie. Somedays, he still didn’t feel like he deserved it—her affection, her endless devotion—but she made sure that he knew he did, every single day.

“How are you feeling?” He murmured in her ear, making her shiver just slightly at their closeness. They’d been apart for most of the day and she only wanted some time alone with her husband but the night was far from over.

Slumping back into his arms, she knew that he’d easily bear her weight as she complained quietly, “My feet are killing me—Poppy picked these damn shoes and Morgan is relentless.”

“Like her godmother.” He chuckled, spinning her around to face him. Sliding her arms around his neck, she let out a comfortable sigh as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re good with her.”

“She’s perfect.” Looking over Bucky’s shoulder, seeing the girl in question still giggling as Happy Hogan did the twist, just to appease her, Maggie murmured fondly, “I hope our—”

Cutting herself off quickly before she could complete the latter half of that mindless sentence, she felt her rouged cheeks flush darker. Perhaps it was a conversation they should have had before, but they hadn’t, and their wedding certainly wasn’t the place that she wanted to have it.

Pressing her lips together, she would have been hard pressed to ignore the grin that had spread across Bucky’s bearded face at her slip-up. There was a mischievous glint in the clear blue iris of his eye, little lines framing them as he tilted her chin up to look at him, asking quietly, “Our kids?”

Embarrassed, she hid her face in his tuxedo-clad chest and nodded the slightest bit; he chuckled as she tightened her arms around him, pressing his lips to the top of her head as a warmth spread through him at the idea.

Since Hydra, since Washington, since everything, he hadn’t even imagined having kids. Not until Maggie, until them.

With her, he wanted whatever she did. If she just wanted it to be them and Alpine forever, he would be happy with that but if she wanted children, then he’d be elated too. Whatever life they made together, whatever they created, as long as she was with him, he knew it would be perfect.

“You want kids?” He murmured hesitantly, feeling a warmth in his chest at the thought.

Taking a breath, Maggie leaned back to cautiously watch his expression as she gave a shy shrug, “I…didn’t use to, but now I do.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she quickly began, “But I didn’t know if you wanted them, and if you don’t, that’s okay—”

“I do.” Cutting her off, he leaned down to capture her lips. He tasted like expensive whiskey and mint with the barest hint of tobacco from he and Sam’s celebratory cigars that they’d smoked outside just a few minutes before. Resting his forehead against hers after their lips parted, he whispered softly, “Of course, I do. I want you to be the mother of my children, Maggie.”

“You do?” With her left hand cupping his cheek, he could feel the cool metal of her wedding set pressing against his skin and he returned her giddy smile as she teased with a conspiratorial whisper, “You want to knock me up, Barnes?”

His arms tightened around her waist at the inference, and he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “Tell me when and I promise I will, Barnes.”

Teeth digging into her glossed lip at the use of her new last name and his irrefutable offer, her eyes were wide as she chanced a glance around the small room. Everyone was otherwise occupied for the time being, dancing and drinking and talking.

Surely, the newlyweds wouldn’t be missed for ten minutes.

“You know, since I bought that reception dress, I need to go change.” With a feigned casual tone, she took his hands and began taking a few, slow steps backwards in the direction of the hall that led to the bridal suite where she’d gotten ready earlier that morning, “You mind helping me out of this one?”

The conversation held with only their eyes was fast as he caught the meaning of her words and gave a dumbstruck nod before a little smirk appeared on his face as she slipped inside the room, pulling him along, “It would be my pleasure.”

“I think it’s going to be mine, actually.” Maggie giggled, locking the door behind him in the split second before he pounced.

At once, they were a mess of limbs and silk and wool and tulle as he pressed her against the cool wall, his tongue sweeping over her lip and dipping into her mouth through the searing kiss as she pushed his coat from his shoulders, and he cupped one of her breasts through the white silk. Undoing his belt and the button of his slacks, she giggled against his mouth as she yanked the soft, white shirt from where it had been tucked away.

With a hum, she shoved him back on to the velvet settee and grinned at his darkened eyes. Turning her back to him, and brushing her hair over her shoulder, Maggie gave him access to the buttons as she practically vibrated in excitement at the stolen moment with her new husband.

As his fingers went to work on the countless, little satin-covered buttons, she heard him give a low growling curse as the bodice slowly loosened. Peering over her shoulder, Maggie gave him a look, “James Barnes, if you rip this dress, I will kick your—oh, fuck—ass.”

His lips were pressed against her neck, giving hot kisses and little nips that she knew she should stop because they’d certainly leave a mark. “All these goddamn little buttons—shit.”

Finally, he’d undone enough to help her slip out of the cloud-like gown and groaned at the sight as she stood before him. Craving to touch her, he quickly draped the heavy dress over the couch’s arm for the time being before grabbing her hips and yanking her on to his lap, “Fuck, baby. You were just wearing this under that?”

“Didn’t need a bra,” She giggled as his hands roamed all over her bare torso, taking a breast in each hand as he kneaded them and pinched her rosy nipples, making a warmth pool low in her stomach. Threading her fingers through his hair, she tilted her head back with a little smile as his lips trailed over her decolletage and breasts. She hummed as his hands skated down to the white lace and silk panties around her hips, “Bet you’ll like what I have for tonight…”

“Love you in anything.” He murmured, slipping his fingers beneath the soft fabric to brush over her slick folds. Easily zeroing in on her clit, he gave a dark chuckle as she bucked her hips at the teasing sensation while he slowly traced small circles around it, “Look at my little wife, always so ready for me…”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Her voice was breathy as he carefully slipped his middle finger inside, teasing her slowly as he slipped it in and out, his rhythm just slightly too slow for her liking. Digging her teeth into her lip, trying to stay quiet and avoid any unwanted attention, Maggie felt like she was going to draw blood as she whined softly, “Fuck, need you inside me.”

“We’ll be quick, baby.” Pressing a short kiss to her lips, he shoved his pants down just far enough to pull out his hard cock, using her wetness on his hand to give it a few quick tugs. Hooking a thumb in her panties where a little, dark spot had formed from her wetness, he pulled them aside and used his tip to brush against her slit with a low groan. Finally, he slid inside her in one stroke, a hand on her hip guiding her down as her fingers dug into his shoulders at the welcomed intrusion.

“God, you feel so good, peach.” He groaned, bottoming out inside of her warmth. Slowly, he lifted her from his length easily, leaving only the tip inside before dropping her back down; she whimpered as he murmured between hard thrusts, “We gotta be quick so I’m gonna use this sweet little pussy like my little fucktoy. Okay, baby? You gonna be good for me?”

Stifling a cry into his neck, Maggie nodded and held on to him tightly as he picked up a punishing pace, “Love your cock, Bucky. Oh—” She cut off as he rocked into her deeply, the tip of his cock pressing firmly against the spongey g-spot he always seemed to find with a practiced ease. Teasingly, she nipped his earlobe as she whispered, “You gonna fuck a baby into me, Barnes?”

“Is that what you. want, doll?” She could hear the grin in his voice as his fingers dug into her hips just a little harder as he gave a particularly deep rut that made fireworks shoot off behind her closed eyelids as he goaded lowly, “Not even married for an hour and you already want me to knock you up? Hm?”

Rolling her hips without abandon, she tried to meet each of his hard thrusts as she whined with a little nod, “Please, Buck…”

With a groan, he rocked his hips against hers, one of his hands drifting down to toy with her swollen nub as he teased in her ear, quiet enough so only she could hear, “That’s right, peach. Gonna fill you up and give you a baby right now. You want to be a mommy? Can’t fuckin’ wait to see you get all round with my kid—you’re gonna look so pretty with me drippin’ out of this tight little hole tonight. Should make you walk around with all my cum stuffed right here ‘til we get home. Yeah? Gotta make sure it takes and we’ll try again later just to be sure…”

His debauched words made her cheeks burn but the way they made her wetness drip out around his relentless cock was impossible to hide. Nodding, she babbled through the head-spinning pleasure with her voice just a little higher than usual, “Yes—yes, want it now, please.” His thumb strumming unforgivingly against her clit made her thighs tense as she shuddered out a broken cry, “Oh god—”

“Come for me, doll.” He begged, his finger refusing to quit its ministrations as he snapped his hips up into hers as she rode him recklessly.

“James—”

Covering her mouth with one of his hands, he let her take control, fucking herself on to him with muffled cries as he taunted with a smirk, “Gotta stay quiet, Mrs. Barnes. Don’t wanna let everyone know your husband is fucking you stupid back here.”

Slipping two fingers into her mouth, he groaned as she sucked them, her cheeks hollowing as her tongue rolled around the vibranium digits and she watched him from under her lashes with a dark look in her molten chocolate eyes, “Mm, that’s it, just like that…” He praised as he felt the way her walls began to flutter around his length.

Removing his fingers with a pop, he grabbed her hips once again and found that same, impossible pace as he demanded with a raspy groan, “Now, let me feel you squeeze ‘round me, peach. Need to make sure you take all of it—fuck, baby…”

Little, breathy pants were pulled from her swollen lips with every thrust as her eyes drifted shut. The rubber band deep in her belly was pulled taut as she gasped out, “James, oh god—” Cutting off, she felt it snap as her entire body tensed. Endorphins flooded her brain as her cunt clenched around him like a vice; feeling his warm spend spill into her with a low curse, she whined out quietly, “Fuck…”

Resting her dewy forehead in the crook of his neck, she smiled as Bucky’s lips brushed lazily against her shoulder, “Mm, love you, doll.”

“Love you, Buck.” Pressing a gentle kiss to the warm skin of his throat, she stayed comfortably in his embrace as the post-orgasmic haze led to sleepiness.

Perhaps their guests wouldn’t notice if the couple just disappeared—it wasn’t out of the ordinary for either of them, after all.

Her bubble of bliss was popped as Bucky began to peel her off of him with a soft encouragement, “Come on, you need to get dressed.” Despite her whines, he only appeased her half-way as he slipped out of her slowly, careful not to get their mess on the dark fabric of his pants, with a promise, “We’ll have time for more later, peach. Just a few more hours.”

Pouting, she rolled back on to the couch with an exaggerated sigh, “Fine.”

As he hung up her gown, she gathered her strength and finally stood on coltish legs, ignoring the soreness between her thighs. She was only two steps towards the bathroom when he asked with a cocked brow, “Where are you going?”

Raising her own at him, matching his expression, Maggie looked at him, “To clean up?”

“Oh, no.” With three strides, he was in front of her once more. Readjusting the cheeky underwear on her hips that she’d begun to roll down, he gave a gentle pat to her ass. “No. I meant what I said, doll.” His smirk made her breath catch as he continued, “You’re gonna keep it there. All night.”

“Bucky! I—” Blushing from head to toe, she floundered for any words as he waited for her to disagree but they both knew she didn’t want to, so she muttered simply, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Grabbing her other dress from the rack, he unzipped it and held it out for her to step into. Helping her into the sleeves, he traced a finger up her spine and followed it with the zipper as he murmured into her ear teasingly, “If you did, you wouldn’t have asked me to put a baby in you.”

Five minutes later, with Maggie’s deep-burgundy lipstick reapplied neatly and her hair finally detangled, they stealthily slipped out of the desecrated bridal suite and back into the still-empty hall. Hand and hand, and her thighs pressed together tightly, the couple casually returned to the reception with as much plausible deniability as they could muster. They’d been gone less than twenty-minutes, hopefully their absence hadn’t been too obvious—

“You two!” Poppy hissed, her ivy eyes narrowed in a glare at the newlyweds as she descended upon them from out of left field. She was a woman on a mission; the cake should have been cut ten minutes ago. She kept her voice low as she shook her head, mildly irritated at the couple’s disregard for their own evening’s timetable, “I have been looking everywhere for you!”

The way Bucky’s grip tightened on her hand as he stifled a laugh made a smile twitch on Maggie’s lips as she lied easily, “He was…helping me into the dress.” Bucky nodded innocently, corroborating the story as Maggie gestured vaguely to the short, cocktail dress that she’d changed into just minutes earlier, “The zipper got stuck and he was—”

Poppy’s eyes flickered between the pair before Maggie saw the lightbulb go off inside of her best friend’s head and braced herself for the impending reprimand, “No—ew!” Looking around with exasperation tinging her expression, she chastised with an air of disgust, shouting through her whisper, “Guys, there are people here! How could you do that? You couldn’t just wait a few more hours!?”

“We were quiet!” Bucky added unhelpfully in defense of their escapade.

Smacking his chest gently with the back of her hand, Maggie’s face went scarlet as she hissed, “James!”

“Gross.” Poppy groaned, taking Maggie’s other hand as she pulled the couple towards the cake table, “We will be discussing this later.”

November 9, 2025

There’d been very little back and forth when discussing their honeymoon, but Maggie had been giggly as she made a reservation at a familiar little place that was tucked away, hidden down in the tree in the Appalachian foothills.

It had been some stupid throwaway joke in the middle of the night, but it was the first place that he’d ever called her his wife. Now, he could say it again and, finally, be telling the truth. As soon as she’d put the location into the navigation system, he’d known exactly where they were going. With a silent chuckle, he’d taken her hand on the console and they’d set off for the road trip.

An entire week spent at a mountainside bed and breakfast where they could see the changing, fiery red and warm gold leaves and sleep in together every morning, was perfect.

By the time they’d arrived, the sun had long since set, covering them in the dark navy night as Bucky toted their bags inside, Maggie leading the way with a little skip in her step that made him smile at her excitement. He couldn’t imagine ever taking off the rose-colored glasses that she’d given him.

Tapping the little bell on the desk summoned the innkeeper from the back room; making eye contact with one another as the stout, old woman shuffled out, the pair had to stifle their smiles as recognition struck.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

With white hair, that had most certainly been set with rollers, and a pair of red glasses on a chain around her neck, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see the same woman was still manning the place after almost two years months.

“Of course…” Slipping the glasses on, perching them on the tip of her nose, Sandy traced a finger down the page before coming to the name. Selecting one of the many keys that hung on the wall, she handed it to Maggie with a puzzled expression, “Here you are! Oh—don’t you two look familiar.”

Giving Bucky, who floundered over whether to finally tell the old woman the truth, a sidelong glance, Maggie chimed helpfully with a sparkle in her eye, “Well, we were actually here about a year and a half ago.”

At that, Sandy was finally able to place the young couple in her memory—he was the adulterer. Giving Bucky a severe look, she returned her eyes to the young woman who’d taken the man’s ungloved hand with that same lovestruck look on her face that she’d had all that time before.

Smiling, Maggie spun the web larger herself as she lied with a little, enamored smile, “We just renewed our vows yesterday and he thought it would be a good idea to go back to the place where we decided to start over.”

“I see.” Skeptical of the man, Sandy’s expression didn’t hide the disdain that she felt.

“I think it’s really going to work this time.” Maggie rested her head against his shoulder as she grinned up at him, “Isn’t that right, peach?”

Unable to stifle his snort of laughter, he agreed with a kiss to the top of her head, “Sure is, peach.”

The room hadn’t changed at all since their last visit—the dated art still hung on the walls, the floral comforter still covered the bed, the giant bathtub was still in the corner of the bathroom, and there was still a beautiful view beyond the porch that was attached to the carriage house. Unlike their last visit though, they actually had time to unpack for their week of quiet rest with one another before the world needed them back once again.

Tucking the last articles of clothing into the second drawer of the heavy bureau, Maggie padded into the bathroom in search of her new husband. It felt so odd to think that—he wasn’t just her boyfriend or friend with benefits. He was her husband; they were legally bound. A year ago, let alone two, she never could have imagined this was where she’d be.

She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Finding him standing before the framed mirror with his toothbrush in hand, she slipped her arms around his waist from behind in a tight hug. He was warm, pressed against her front, as she rested her cheek on his back.

Brushing one of her fingers over the engraved vibranium of his left ring finger, a little, hidden smile spread across her face as she clasped his hand. It had been a clever gift from Shuri; there was no need for a wedding band when he could have one permanently etched on to his hand instead. When she’d seen it for the first time, she’d cried. But what else was new?

The question had been turning over in her mind since the night before and finally they were alone without any obligation or reservation to get in the way. Waiting until he spat the blue, foamy paste into the white, porcelain basin, Maggie whispered softly as he rinsed it down the drain, “Did you mean it?”

Squeezing her hand, he hummed absentmindedly as he wiped off the counter, “Mean what, doll?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she was glad her face was hidden against the broad plane of his back. Smushing her face to the soft t-shirt, her nervous voice was muffled as the vibrations of it moved through his chest, “About…having a baby?”

She felt the way his body loosened at her words and giggled as he pulled her around to stand between him and the counter before he lifted her easily, perching her on the edge of the sink. Standing between her parted legs, he waited for her to finally look up at him.

His expression was painfully soft as his eyes searched hers and he murmured earnestly, “Of course, I did.” His thumb brushed over her cheek gently as the corner of his lips ticked upwards, “Whenever you’re ready. I know you’re still on the pill—”

“I brought them—” Maggie cut him off, her fingers digging into the edge of the unforgiving, cool marble counter beneath her, “but I don’t have to take them.” Swallowing, she took a breath and gave a half-hearted shrug as she added nervously, “I could just…stop taking them if we wanted to start trying now.”

Cupping her face with his other hand, she could feel the excitement radiating from him and her anxiety was washed away as the tension left her shoulders. Reaching up, she brushed a finger over the lines in his cheek as he grinned, “Really?”

“We’ll be in Louisiana by summer.” Shrugging, she bit her lower lip to stifle an excited smile. Maybe it was fast, maybe from the outside, they looked insane, but she couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought. It was only her and Bucky from then on—no one else mattered anymore. Nodding, she exhaled, “I’m ready to start a family with you.”

Giving her a quick peck on the lips, he draped her arms around his shoulders and lifted her easily. Locking her ankles just below the small of his back, she couldn’t help but giggle as he turned into a man on a mission, carrying her back into their bedroom for the week ahead. Dropping her on the bed unceremoniously, he whipped his shirt off and tossed it somewhere across the room.

The glint had returned to his eye as he caught her lips in a steamy, slow kiss before moving down to her neck and whispering in her ear, “Well, then we got some work to do, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Yes, we do.” Maggie sighed contentedly, her eyes drifting shut as his lips continued on their journey.

Practice made perfect and Maggie always had been a perfectionist, so there was no time to start like the present.

January 8, 2026

“What’s this?”

Maggie had been particular chipper since waking that morning. Sure, it was her birthday but there’d been an extra spring in her step. Maybe it was the overly sweetened coffee that she’d been drinking over the past month or the fact that she’d slept in, but either way: her spirit was incredibly high for a snowy, January evening.

Gesturing to the box on the cushion beside her, she looked up at Bucky with a cheeky grin, “It’s for you!”

“Doll, I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to give you gifts on your birthday, not the other way around.” He chuckled, leaning over the back of the couch to press a kiss to her head as he retrieved his own gift to her from the back of the top shelf in the hall closet. Knowing his wife’s penchant for snooping, he’d hidden it to the best of his abilities.

All those years of espionage had actually come in handy. None of her search attempts in the past weeks had panned out.

Accepting the gift bag from him, with a soft peck to her lips, Maggie settled back into the couch. Narrowing her eyes playfully, she bargained, “I’ll open mine after you open yours.”

“Someone’s impatient.” With a little smile, he flopped down beside her with an exaggerated sigh as Alpine gave an annoyed meow and fled the scene. “Fine, I’ll bite.”

Handing over the small, white, rectangular box victoriously, Maggie was practically vibrating with excitement as he accepted the unsuspecting gift, “Happy birthday to me.”

Shaking his head, amused and curious of her antics, he removed the top and set it aside. Unfolding the white tissue paper, it took a moment for his brain to comprehend the handful of items within. On top of a little cotton onesie were five plastic sticks—each with a very apparent plus sign in the little windows on the side.

He’d seen them before—he’d been with her when she’d purchased them in bulk the month before. She’d known it was too soon, but she’d been too excited to listen to the logical part of her brain. However, if it had been too soon then, it certainly wasn’t now.

If the five positive pregnancy tests weren’t enough, the onesie with Baby Barnes embroidered across the chest in a light green thread, definitely was.

At first, when he’d imagined having children, Bucky had been terrified. What if he messed them up? Or hurt them? What if the serum changed something? Or what if he couldn’t have them at all? Every single fear, Maggie had quelled with soft words and plans and embraces. A geneticist that Poppy knew had told them that the serum wouldn’t affect any possible children that the couple had—and children were more than possible since Bucky’s reproductive ability had been wholly unaffected by Hydra’s experiments.

As for hurting them or screwing them up, she had assured him that nothing would go wrong as long as they were in it together. Sure, parents made mistakes but, as long as they loved them, there wasn’t anything that they could do to hurt their hypothetical children beyond repair.

Well, ‘hypothetical’ no more. A child was now a certainty.

Brushing his hand over the impossibly small outfit, his eyes were wide as he finally looked back at Maggie who’d been staring with bated breath, “Are you sure?”

“I think I’m about eight weeks.” Maggie’s hand rested unconsciously on her stomach as she waited for any response.

Brow furrowed, he counted back the days, “Wait, so we—”

“Pretty sure we did.” Maggie snorted, rolling her eyes at the serendipity of it all. It felt a little silly or cliché, to have conceived during their honeymoon, especially when she knew far too many people who’d spent months or years trying. “Who knew you had super sperm too—”

She was cut off by him gently setting the box aside and guiding her lips to his with a gentle hand on the back of her head. His tongue swept over her bottom lip, begging for entry which she granted with a pleased hum. Finally pulling away, he dropped to his knees between hers as she sat on the couch.

Silently, his eyes asked for permission as he gently reached for the hem of her sweater. Teary-eyed, Maggie nodded her ascent as she sat up and rested her hands on his shoulders. Pushing the soft cashmere up over her warm skin, his eyes were wide as he looked at her tummy. It was still mostly flat but there was the tiniest bump that could have passed for bloating if he hadn’t known any better.

Eyes wide with wonder, Bucky’s large hands spanned over her soft skin as he grinned through wet eyes, “Hey there.” His voice was quiet but thick with tears as he pressed a kiss just below her bellybutton, murmuring to the growing thing that had taken up residence within his wife’s stomach, “Hi, baby. I’m your dad.” Maggie wiped at her eyes with a sniffle as he added, “We can’t wait to meet you.”

Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against her belly as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that they’d soon be parents. Brushing a hand over his hair, Maggie leaned over to press a kiss to the top of his head.

It was funny how she’d somehow gotten everything that she’d ever wanted in the most unexpected way.

March 16, 2026

She would get Bucky and Sam to use the word ‘friend’ to reference the other one, sooner or later. Coworkers didn’t purchase houses near the other so that they could be closer, they didn’t call daily or share beers on a weekly basis to catch up, and they certainly didn’t name the other as a godparent to their unborn children.

House hunting had gone swimmingly for the soon-to-be parents. There’d been no question of ‘where,’ when they’d decided to start anew somewhere outside of the city. Bucky had loved Delacroix from his very first visit and Maggie had fallen for the little community soon thereafter—Sam’s presence was just something of a bonus.

It was a big, old house that had been constructed more than a hundred years before; as they’d read about it, Maggie had taunted her husband that they’d finally found an artifact that made him look young, before running away from his amused grumbles as he chased after her.

The house had more than enough space for the two of them—it was unspoken, but they certainly knew what could be done with at least two of the spare bedrooms.

Knowing where they were going had made everything so easy when it came to planning their lives. A colleague had gotten her in touch with a university in New Orleans and come the following spring semester, she would begin work as an assistant professor. As for Bucky, with the help of Sam and Pepper, Maggie had pushed him into creating a nonprofit for veterans who’d been injured in action like him.

As much as the bureaucratic part of the work aggravated him, he actually found that he enjoyed every other facet of the job—talking with the men and women who had all been bonded in such a specific way, seeing others make the same journey he had. And, in conjunction with some friends that Sam had, it was something that they could spread across the country.

Full boxes that had been painstakingly packed and labeled had been placed in each of the appropriate rooms in the mostly-empty house. Carrying one of the lighter ones that had been labelled ‘towels,’ Maggie used her hip to bump the door open. Before she could even step into the house, she felt the weight lift from her arms as a familiar voice murmured happily, “I’ll take that.”

“Samuel, I swear to god.” Maggie started, narrowing her eyes at the tall man with an annoyed groan as he walked away. It wasn’t the first time that she’d had a box taken from her since they’d begun unloading the moving truck that morning.

“Bucky’s orders!” He called over his shoulder in defense as he carried it down the hall to the bathroom.

Ever since Maggie had told him about their surprise two months earlier, Bucky had been waiting on her hand and foot. At first, it had been endearing—he’d been like a mother hen as he ensured she was comfortable or that she had everything she needed—but it had soon become overbearing, and she was going to go crazy sooner or later.

Their scans placed her somewhere around sixteen weeks and she was only just beginning to show—finally, she’d needed to purchase maternity clothing. Every time Bucky looked at her belly, or caressed it, or gave it an affectionate glance, she had a suspicion that if he could have her wrapped in bubble wrap and under his supervision at all times, he would.

“It was a bunch of towels!” Maggie defended incredulously as she followed him down the hall with a huff, “I don’t give a fuck that I’m pregnant or that you’re Captain America. I will still kick your ass.

Sam looked at her placatingly as he placed the unopened box on top of the counter, “And usually that would be enough to get me on your side, but I think Robocop has reached his final form and if anything happens to you, he’ll hunt me down and shoot me dead.”

“Bucky!” Maggie complained with a whine as the man in question finally entered the room, carrying three heavy boxes that had been stacked atop one another. Gesturing to her stomach, she implored, “I’m not due anytime soon. Let me do something.”

“Nope,” Bucky popped the ‘p’ as he gently sat the boxes on the floor, “You’re growing our little bug, that’s more than enough.” Brushing an affectionate hand over her t-shirt covered bump as he left the room, he added quickly, “Besides, we’re almost done!”

Glaring at his back, Maggie grumbled under her breath as she began sorting through some of the boxes that Bucky had brought in, “Would’ve been done sooner if you’d just let me help!”

Moving to pick up one of the ones that had been placed on the floor, she was stopped with an “Ah!” from her friend.

The brown cardboard was taken from her hands as Sam teased, “You heard the man, little mama.”

“I hate you.” Maggie growled, irritated as he easily lifted it and placed it on the counter before her.

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and watched in amusement as she rummaged through the contents within the box as he countered, “You can’t hate your own kid’s godfather.”

It had been a given when the couple had been picking their future children’s godparents. Poppy had been Maggie’s best friend for more than twenty years—it would have been blasphemous to make any other choice on her part—and Sam was Bucky’s best friend, even if he wouldn’t admit it. They’d agreed without any hesitation even if the bundle of joy wasn’t expected for another five months.

“But I can revoke your title.” She threatened without any heat, playfully brandishing a candleholder at the nation’s hero as she continued to unpack.

“Touché, Hall.” Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he chuckled.

From down the hall, the friends heard a muffled curse, a thump, and a correction of, “Barnes!” that made both of them smile.

Sam shrugged innocently, “Old habits die hard.”

“I think you just like bugging him.” Maggie shook her head with a small smile as she gestured for Sam to remove the old box from the counter and replace it with another full one, if she couldn’t do it herself.

“That too.” He agreed, chuckling as he appeased her request.

August 4, 2026

Sweaty hair was plastered to her forehead, her was body numb from her navel to her toes, and a profound exhaustion had settled deep into her bones, but none of it mattered as the nurse gently placed their baby on her chest. It was sometime in the late evening—she’d been in labor since early that morning, but it was like every moment of pain and fear was washed away as she automatically cradled the newborn to her body.

“Hi Henry.” Maggie whispered, sniffling as she stared down at him with teary eyes. Her other hand blindly reached for Bucky who grabbed it, lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her temple as she murmured, lovestruck, “He’s got your eyes.”

“Hopefully everything else is yours, peach.” Bucky chuckled through his own tears. In his wildest dreams, he never could have imagined this. It all felt so complete—love, a family, an entire life where he finally got to decide. It was more than he ever knew he wanted.

Henry stared up at them with wide, ocean blue eyes, having quickly settled down once being placed on his mother’s chest. Comforted by her smell and warmth, he’d stopped crying and had instead turned to gurgling inquisitively as he finally put faces to the voices that had been speaking to him for the past nine months.

Brushing the back of a warm finger over Henry’s cherubic cheek, he exhaled softly, “He’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Maggie agreed. As he squirmed against her, she cooed quietly, “It’s okay, honey. Mommy’s right here. Daddy’s here. You’re okay, sweet boy.”

Watching how easily she adjusted their son, knowing exactly what he needed before he could even make a sound, Bucky wondered if this was what it felt like to fall in love all over again. Even in the thin, cotton gown, with the three-inch binder that contained her birthing plan and more emergency information than anyone could ever need, and dark circles under her eyes, he couldn’t have been more in love.

“You did so good, doll.” He murmured, gently tilting her head to look up at him for just a second as he reminded her with a soft, hazy golden look behind his eyes before brushing his lips with hers, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Maggie whispered, resting her forehead against his in a moment of quiet.

Things wound down soon after Henry Phillip Barnes had made his entrance into the world. The maternity ward was quieter than it had been all day—there were no beeping monitors, no nurses coming in or out. It was finally just their little family, alone and in a perfect, blissful bubble together.

After convincing him that he wouldn’t squish her or Henry, Maggie had finally gotten Bucky to lay in the small bed with her. His chin rested on her shoulder as he cuddled her from behind, his eyes still trained on the sleeping bundle that Maggie had hardly let go of since its arrival.

The only times she’d relinquished her hold were when Bucky had held him and when the doctors needed to do a quick test—even then, she hadn’t allowed anyone to take him from their room.

“I don’t want to stop staring at him.” She whispered, looking at the way Henry’s little hand had wrapped around Bucky’s index finger; he could barely grasp it, but he refused to let it go as he slept soundly. “He’s so tiny.”

“I know.” Bucky’s voice was still so filled with wonder, and it made her smile sleepily.

“It’s so weird.” Exhaling a soft laugh, Maggie gently readjusted the soft blanket that Henry had been swaddled in, “He was in my belly for nine months and now he’s here and I…” Trailing off, she gave a little shrug as she whispered her fear to the only other person in the world who would understand, “I don’t want to blink because I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Nothing will happen to him, doll. Not when he has us.” Bucky tried to quell his wife’s fears and held her just a little closer, careful not to squeeze her sore body too tightly, as he took a deep breath, “I’d do anything for him,” Pressing his lips to her warm shoulder, he added softly, “And you.”

Pressing a kiss to his forearm that was wrapped around her front, she finally peeked over her shoulder and gave him a tired smile, a little sparkle in her eye as she suggested, “We should have another.”

Chuckling, he nodded but looked back at the newest member of the Barnes family, “Let’s give him some time before we make him into a big brother.”

January 25, 2027

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Maggie worried her bottom lip, her knuckles white as she gripped the travel mug of coffee tightly in her hand. It was her first day of classes and she’d cursed the way that she had ignored any and all advice to practice leaving the house without Henry before she actually had to go to work for the first time.

Five months had passed in the blink of an eye, it was finally time, and she’d been dreading it. It felt like her chest was tight as she looked down at the sleeping baby who was strapped to his father’s chest, completely blissful and milk-drunk from his breakfast. The carrier wrapped around her husband’s broad shoulders and chest, securing their son to his warm protector.

He wore the little, stretchy cotton carrier almost more often than Maggie—and her phone was filled with pictures of the proof. Her favorite was her wallpaper; her two boys napping on the couch, the light green fabric securing them to one another as an elderly Alpine happily rested on Bucky's lap. It was the cutest fucking thing she’d ever seen.

“Baby, I promise it will be fine.” Bucky bounced absentmindedly as Henry readjusted against his father’s chest, soothed by the heavy heartbeat he felt.

Frowning, she double checked her work bag as she rattled off with her brows drawn anxiously, “Just, make sure you call me when he wakes up, and when he eats. I pumped earlier and it’s in the fridge and all the bottles are clean and sanitized—oh! And make sure you tell me when he poops. Dr. Miller said—“

“I can’t keep you on the phone all day, Mags.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he handed her the car keys from where they’d been hung on the wall, “I promise I will let you know everything, okay?”

“Okay.” She exhaled heavily, peeking down at their sleeping son again. “Maybe I should just check—“

“You’re going to be late.” Cutting her off, he guided her to the front door with a hand on the small of her back. They both knew she would find some reason to stay if he didn’t make her leave. Leaning down, he gave her a chaste kiss and tucked a curl behind her ear, “Have a good day, okay? And tell me if any of those shitheads are hot for teacher. Can’t let anyone hit on my girl.”

Her laugh was what he’d been seeking, and he’d gotten it. Smiling, he held the door open and reminded her with a crooked smile, “We love you.”

“I love you both.” Brushing a hand over Henry’s mousy-brown hair-covered head, she nodded and took a deep breath before putting on a brave face and stepping outside.

May 16, 2028

A low voice floated through the dark room, and Maggie squeezed her eyes closed tighter, trying desperately to hang on to those last few threads of sleep that were still in her grasp. Motherhood had made her so much more attuned to the world around her as she slept, vastly decreasing the quality, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The quiet, rumbling voice was animated as it carried one half of a conversation and she couldn’t not pay attention to it. Blinking awake, the room around her was still dark as the moon’s light came through the sheer curtains over the window. The little alarm clock on her bedside table read just after midnight.

“That’s when I saw her, baby girl.” Bucky murmured to his wife’s very-pregnant belly, with a tired smile on his face as his fingers traced shapes over her skin, “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my whole life. Strong and determined—and even if she was scared, it didn’t show. Your mama was on a mission, and nothing was gettin’ in her way; she was gonna help save the whole wide world for you and your big brother to grow up in.”

Reaching down, Maggie ran her fingers through her husband’s hair with a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “What are you doing, goofball?”

Peeking up at her, he held a single finger to his lips and playfully shushed her, “Shh, Winnie and I are having a conversation.”

Raising an eyebrow, she yawned, “Oh, are you?”

“Mm, she’s got a lot to say. Just like you—a regular Chatty Kathy once you get her started.” Pressing his lips to her stretch-mark-streaked tummy, he murmured against the cocoa-butter scented skin, “Mommy’s awake, bug.”

Playing with the soft strands that she threaded her fingers through, she complained lightly, “Well, since you’re talking, can you ask her why she can’t sit somewhere aside from right on top of my bladder?”

“She’s comfy.” He defended with a shrug, his fingertips drifting over her skin and tickling gently.

“Is she?” Smiling, Maggie used her hands to push herself up with a soft grunt, “Well, she’s got a week then she’s getting evicted.” Rubbing a hand over her taut stomach that was forty-one weeks large, she murmured affectionately, “Big brother couldn’t wait to come out, but Miss Winnifred is taking her sweet time.”

Bucky took her cue as she held her hands out, pulling her to stand easily. The change in her center of gravity had made her life much more difficult, and he knew that she was incredibly annoyed by it, but he found everything about his pregnant wife endearing—the way she had to waddle from one place to another, the soft snores that came from her sleeping lips, the face she made when she smelled the coffee she used to love.

Returning from their ensuite, she grumbled through another yawn, “Apparently it’s not enough that I feel like a whale. I also have to pee constantly.”

“You look beautiful, baby.” His eyes were filled with warmth as she approached the bed, rolling her eyes at him but unable to hide her smile. He chuckled as she lowered herself back into bed, sighing in relief as the weight was relieved from her achy joints.

Unable to help himself, he dragged her closer and pressed a hot kiss just below her ear, “I love this body—making me a daddy, all over again.” Sighing at his warm touch, Maggie melted into him as he continued with a little smile, dragging the hem of her sleep shirt up slowly, “Maybe I should just keep you like this all the time.”

“Mm, slow your roll.” She giggled as he tossed her plain, maternity tank-top on to the floor, mumbling against his lips, “This little girl isn’t even here yet.”

“Can’t help that I love you so much,” He rested his forehead against hers; his light blue eyes, that she saw even when her own were closed, were soft as he whispered into the dark room, “I’m so glad I found you.”

She felt her entire body go warm as a heavy, unfettered love flooded every atom and molecule that made up her body and soul. Everything had led them here in the end. Every heart and bone break, every pain that had threatened to rip them apart, every moment they didn’t know that they’d get through—they’d survived.

Maybe everything made more sense in rearview when you could look back and finally see the forest for the trees. The whole picture was like some beautiful fresco telling a story from the beginning to end, of two people who were too stubborn to ask for help and didn’t know where their places in the world were until they found the other.

In each swipe of paint, there was loss and heartache, love and growth, but the canvas was finally full. Every stroke, both harmful and healing, of the paintbrush that told their story had been worth it in the end. There was nothing in the world that could ever make them give up the perfect peace that they’d finally found together.

This was it for them. This was home and there was only infinity ahead—but whatever came next, they had one another.

“I’m glad you found me too.”

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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says.

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?”

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.”

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor.

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake.

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular.

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again.

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her.

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?”

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out.

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does.

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them.

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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Square G5: Dom!Bucky Barnes

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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 year

Text

Bucky Barnes Playlist

I have a really extensive playlist for Bucky and I’m just posting the top songs that I feel go perfectly with him

These are my Top Picks

Holding Onto Smoke -Motionless in White

Catharsis -Motionless in White

Fix You -Coldplay

Candyman -Christina Aguilera

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked -Cage the Elephant

Little Lion Man -Mumford and Sons

Demons -Imagine Dragons

Monster -STARSET

I’ll be Good -Jaymes Young

It’s Been a Long, Long Time -Kitty Kallen

Numb -LINKIN PARK

Broken -lovelytheband

Soldier -Samantha Jade

Roaring 20s -Panic @ the Disco

Hold On Til May -Pierce the Veil

Human -Rag’n’Bone Man

Lonely Dance -Set it Off

My Name (Wearing Me Out) -Shinedown

Already Gone -Sleeping at Last

Anti-Hero -Taylor Swift

Shattered -Trading Yesterday

Chivalry is Dead -Trevor Wesley

Run Boy Run -Woodkid

Control -Zoe Wees

The Devil Within -Digital Daggers

Here’s a big portion of the rest of my Bucky Barnes Playlist

Disguise -Motionless in White

Another Life -Motionless in White

Masterpiece -Motionless in White

Porcelain -Motionless in White

Hello, Brooklyn -All Time Low

Monsters -All Time Low

Hey Brother -Avicii

Bad Reputation -Avril Lavigne

everything I wanted -Billie Eilish

Bad Guy -Billie Eilish

Insane -Black Gryph0n & Bassik

Have a Nice Day -Bon Jovi

Human -Christina Perri

Criminal -Britney Spears

Popular Monster -Falling in Reverse

Wrong Side of Heaven -5 Finger Death Punch

Kill of the Night -Gin Wigmore

Echo -Jason Walker

Monster -Imagine Dragons

Rise -Katy Perry

Part of Me -Katy Perry

Brother -Kodaline

All I Want -Kodaline

We Don’t Talk About Bruno -Encanto

Monster -Reckless Love

In the Stars -Benson Boone

Happier -Marshmello

That’s Just Life -Memphis May Fire

Carry on my Wayward Son (cover) -Neoni

I’m No Good -New Years Day

How You Remind Me -Nickelback

Apologize -OneRepublic

Counting Stars -OneRepublic

Try -P!nk

The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty -Panic @ the Disco

The Only Exception -Paramore

No Way Out -Phil Collins

Strangers Like Me -Phil Collins

A Match into Water -Pierce the Veil

Holding on and Letting Go -Ross Cooperman

Play with Fire -Sam Tinnesz

Killer in the Mirror -Set it Off

Duality -Set it Off

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing -Set it Off

Treat You Better -Shawn Mendes

MONSTERS -Shinedown

Sick of it -Skillet

Rise -Skillet

Feel Invincible -Skillet

The Resistance -Skillet

Animal I Have Become -Three Days Grace

New Perspective -Panic @ the Disco

Here Without You -3 Doors Down

Iris -Goo Goo Dolls

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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cthulhu-calling · 2 years

Text

kill the lights and kiss my eyes : new beginnings

Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader

Summary : You never knew what love was, not until Natasha. But now that the King has his eye on you, will your perfect little world come crumbling down?

Warnings : medieval AU, smut, fluff, MISCARRIAGE, second marriages

Author's Note : Okaayy, the end is here! I wrote and rewrote it this so many times but honestly, I'm still not satisfied with how this turned out. I might revisit this on a later day and reedit the whole thing. This is not proofread so all mistakes are my own. I might do an epilogue if anyone is interested but for the time being, this series is over and if y'all are expecting some BuckyxReader smut than I'm sorry lol but this story ain't about him. Thank you to each and every one of you who stuck around and left comments and kudos, it made my day every time. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for reading this :))

Word Count : 3224

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The next month goes by in a whirlwind of preparations and meetings, accords signed and dress fittings made. You felt like you hardly had a second to slow down, catch your breath. You never did have any rosy dreams about marriage, not after how you witnessed men treat their wives growing up. Your father, your brother, your brother-in-law, none of them could ever be able to spare an ounce of respect for their wives, forget about love.

But you keep on looking forward. You don’t let the ire and the snide comments of the other ladies get to you, beyond trying to prove your innocence in their so-called plot of ensnaring the King. All that matters is that Natasha knew the truth. You’d been seeing less and less of her as of lately. Your father had railed on you that night, asking how could you have given in so easy? He could have milked the King for so much more. You stayed silent, knowing nothing you say or do will quell his anger at you in the moment. As for the King, he was ever the same. Lecherous looks across the room, wandering hands and a nasty mouth. He showered you in gifts, little compensation for the disgust you felt every time he touched you. It made you wonder, was that all that you were truly worth, your body? He swore up and down that he loved you, but you were sure he once did the same to many before you, even Natasha, and look where you’ve all ended up?

The day of the wedding looms closer and it feels like a noose tightening around your neck. Your meetings with Natasha grow infrequent though not by your choice. She keeps her distance and you can no longer pretend that it doesn’t shatter your heart every time your eyes meet, only for her to swiftly avert hers. You take all that hurt and lock it in a box, deep in your heart. You can’t help but wonder though, if just like her husband, will her eye shift to someone new?

Your apathy towards Lord Rogers remains much the same and though you do catch his smouldering looks from time to time, he was the least of your concerns. You embellish your plain wedding vows to the King’s satisfaction. Everything is to the King’s tastes though you don’t mind, having no desire to make choices. Keep the ceremony as impersonal as possible. Most days you roamed the castle halls in a daze, following where the wedding planners would direct you, trying on dresses and updos. You were little more than a doll, dressing up and looking pretty was all you had to do. Your days had taken on a sort of monotone, the routine bringing you a much needed reprieve from the constant noise inside your mind. You find no reason to rejoice in your predicament knowing just how precarious your position is, existing on the periphery of one man’s ever shifting desires.

When you retire to your chambers for the night, separate from the other ladies now that you were to wed the King, you’re shocked to find Natasha awaiting your arrival. She looks as ravishing as ever though the bags under her eyes betray her true predicament.

“My Queen,” you eke out almost breathlessly, nervous all of a sudden. She was the last person you expected to see sitting there. She smiles gently as she walks to you, holding her hands out in front of her, quickly pulling you close.

“I missed you, my love,” she sighs into your hair, breathing in the familiar smell of you in.

You pull away from her but she doesn’t let your hands go, your eyes betraying the hurt you feel although your tone does not.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” You try to laugh it off, the way one would who’s trying to brush off the hurt they feel.

She sighs loudly, cupping your cheek in her palm, forcing you to look at her. “I couldn’t be as I’ve always been, it would be far too suspicious. The ladies are already speaking conspiratorially,” she says.

“But you could’ve told me before. Do you know how much it hurt? To have you always looking in the other direction, never once acknowledging my presence? Even behind closed doors?” You question tearfully.

“I know, my love. But I beg you, please, try to understand my reasons for it. I derive no pleasure in denying myself your company. But it had to be done,” she pleads with you.

You understand her reasoning now, of course you do, but it does little to do away the agony you carried in your chest for the past few weeks. You sniffle softly, nodding your head. “What are the ladies saying about me?” You wonder out loud and Natasha laughs softly before answering.

“They really seem to believe the only reason you were close to me was because you had your sights set on the King. They really do take their Queen for a fool, don’t they?” She laughs, pulling you besides her on the bed.

“I wouldn’t know, none of them will speak to me unless it’s to let me know how I’ve betrayed you, of how I’m the interloper,” you shrug.

Natasha clutches your hand tighter, making you look at her.

“Don’t believe their vitriolic words. As if they wouldn’t trade everything to be in your shoes.”

You suppose she is right. Who wouldn’t want to be Queen?

“We can talk about them all day but I have something more important to discuss,” she says, pulling you closer besides her, your hands in hers. You feel her slip something into your palm. You open it to find a beautiful silver anklet, bejewelled with tiny rubies. It’s vibrant red colour is exactly the colour that she so loves seeing on you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, holding the delicate piece in your hands.

“I want you to wear it everyday. Something to remind you of me,” she says and you nod, holding out your foot as she clasps it around your ankle. It catches the light, glistening with an insurmountable beauty.

She admires it, her hand slowly moving up your leg, rubbing slow circles on your knee, your long skirt pushed up. Before she can move any further, you push her hands away, standing up to undo the laced front of your gown, pulling it off and leaving you in just your shift. As if just shaken out of a daze, she does the same before she’s pulling you close, her lips hungry against yours. They slowly move down your neck as she avoids leaving marks on your neck, lavishing her attention on your nipples, licking one as her hand massages the other. She continues down your body, leaving little kisses down your stomach, her tongue poking into your navel before she moves on, sucking tiny dark marks on your hip bones. You can’t do much but close your eyes in bliss, your fingers cradling through her hair.

Her fingers slowly run up and down your folds, spreading the wetness. “You’re so wet for me, my love,” she says, a husky quality to her tone that has you clenching on nothing. “Please, I need you,” you whine and she chuckles, clicking her tongue.

“Patience, my love,” she says as she licks a stripe up your folds, circling your clit. You throw your head back, a needy whine erupting from your throat. When she feels satisfied that she’s made you needy enough, she slowly enters two of her fingers, the ring and the middle, into your tight, dripping hole, moving them in and out at an almost agonising pace, only increasing her pace when you whine. She’s never done something like this before. Her fingers stay inside of you as they’re moving up and down in an odd fashion, her mouth sucking your clit with a renewed vigour as you’re positively shaking. Your legs are quivering from her constant onslaught of pleasure and when her fingers hit a certain spot that has you seeing stars, you let out a loud shriek, as if prompting her to go faster and harder. She doubles down and you don’t even realise what’s happening when you cum all over her fingers, your whole body shaking in the afterglow. She pulls her fingers out of you slowly, lightly slapping your cunt with her other hand as she sucks her fingers into her mouth. You try to push her hand away, the feeling growing to be too much but she simply swats your hand away, continuing her ministrations. She quickly switches to rubbing your clit again and you cry out, trying to stop her by trapping her fingers in between your thighs but it doesn’t faze her. She simply bites your thigh, causing them to part as her mouth quickly replaces her hand. You’re drowning in pleasure, simultaneously pulling her closer to your cunt and pushing her away although you both know she's the one who’s truly in charge. You don’t let go of each other, not until she’s pulled another couple of orgasms from your prone body. The night ends with her riding your face, stopping only when her legs can no longer support her. She falls on her back besides you, both of you breathing heavy, the cool jewels around your anklet a contrast to your heated skin.

Natasha won’t say it out loud but to her, the bejewelled anklet is something that binds you to her, almost like shackles around your ankle. But she won’t admit it, ever.

It’s only a week to the wedding and the bride and groom are prohibited from seeing each other though you welcome this reprieve from his wandering hands and acid touch. You’re seeing less and less of Natasha too, much to your chagrin. You wore the ruby studded anklet still.

June, to your surprise, couldn’t be happier at the prospect of you getting married to her father. Wouldn’t that make you her mother of sorts? She made her feelings on the matter clear, that you were her choice over Lady Morwenna, or any other ladies at court for that matter. You were with her in the garden, weaving flower crowns. She wants you to wear one for the wedding and you oblige, obviously.

The comfortable quiet that cloaks you and June is disturbed by the clearing of a throat and you look up to find intent azure orbs gazing at you. You hold back a grimace, the pit in your stomach deepening at the sight of him.

“Your Majesty,” you rise to your feet. “It’s only a week until the wedding. We aren’t supposed to see each other,” you admonish and he waves you off with a scoff. He dismisses June with a wave of his hand and much to your chagrin, she obliges and runs off.

“The Queen and I kept every little tradition and look at where that got us. It’s not these things that make a happy marriage, it’s much more,” he whispers huskily as he pulls you close by the waist. You fight the urge to push him away, accepting his embrace with a straight face. The King might not believe in these little traditions but a little part of you always had. You weren’t naive enough to believe that these little things guaranteed a happy and long lasting marriage but the fact that they were still upheld for generations before you had to count for something, right?

“I suppose you are right,” you shrug as his hands shamelessly glide over your curves.

“I cannot wait for our wedding night. The day looms closer and you do tempt me so my love,” he whispers in your ear and a shiver of disgust rolls down your spine.

“I understand Your Majesty but we must wait. Now that’s one tradition I refuse to forgo of,” you admonish, hoping and praying to the Lord that he might accept it and let you go. You couldn’t stand to be alone with him any longer. Now that you were to be wed to this man, no one would bat an eye at the lack of a chaperone.

“I can respect that. It is only six days before you are completely mine,” he says with a final squeeze of your hip as he lets you go.

I’d nothing else, it brings you comfort to know that you will not be completely his. You can never be.

You sit motionless as the women flutter around you, fixing your makeup and making last minute arrangements to your veil. You decided on leaving your natural and open, a dainty flower crown of lavenders adorning your forehead. You wouldn’t remove the anklet Natasha gave you, much to the displeasure of your mother. But even you had to admit, you looked ethereal.

The ride in the carriage to the church was short, almost too short. It was odd. After weeks where you weren’t left alone for more than a few minutes, the sudden solitude of the coach was suffocating. It’s funny, you suppose, the women at your side as you readied to march to your doom but you’re undeniably alone when push comes to shove.

Natasha won’t be at the ceremony and you’re glad for it. You’re not sure you’d be able to stand there with her watching. Your mind would no doubt be overrun with the thought of how happy you would be if only Nat was in His Majesty’s place.

You walk down the aisle in a daze, not noticing the myriad of faces surrounding you. Your father’s proud gaze, your mother and sister already tearing up, the ladies that cannot disguise their contempt, Lord Rogers’ face a mix of misery and anger. You simply focus on walking towards the man who holds your life in his palms. You’re nothing but a mere puppet to his whims and fancies.

You go through your vows without noticing. You know you won’t mess up when they’ve been rehearsed and re-rehearsed to perfection. You kiss him when the minister allows you to but you don’t feel it. You don’t feel the hunger on his lips, the victory. You don’t even feel the butter sting of your defeat. Maybe you’ve just gone numb or maybe it’s the wine. By the smirk on his lips, you think he can tell.

You ride back to the palace together and you’re thankful that the ride is short enough that he can’t do more than just paw at your breasts like an animal. Your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t deter him.

Natasha’s handmaiden leads you to your former chambers for you to ready, much to your surprise. The jealousy and hatred of the ladies pretty much seals the fate on their arrival but you are thankful for their absence.

The handmaiden, Mina, ushers you in and shuts the door behind her, leaving you alone and confused. You sit at the vanity, wondering what to do when you hear the ruffling of skirts and soft footsteps behind you.

“Why do you look so confused, my love?” Natasha’s voice pierces through the silence and your breath hitches at the sight of her. She is dressed in a delicate pink gown, the one you suspect she wore at her wedding, her hair adorned with a beautiful mix of lavenders and daisies.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, confused but not averse to the idea of her being here.

“Why, I’m here to celebrate my wedding night with my lovely wife,” she says as she gently cups your cheek and you lean into her touch.

“I don’t understand,” you admit and she smiles, a genuine one, filled with love and adoration.

“James is bound in holy matrimony to the both of us so doesn’t that bind us in a way too? Am I wrong then, to call you my wife? To want to share this night with you, on our marital bed?” She asks and you can hear the vulnerability in her tone that brings tears to your eyes.

“I am yours, forever. I am bound to you just as I am to him. Maybe even more deeply,” you say as she sighs in relief and pulls you in for a kiss, leading you towards the bed. She starts kissing down your throat, pulling off your dress when you stop her, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What about His Majesty?” You frown.

She chuckles before continuing to make her way down your torso, stopping to gently bite your nipple. “I’ve made sure that he’ll be too drunk to do much. He always had a habit of imbibing far too much,” she says between kisses. You chuckle and pull her close for another kiss, flipping her on her back swiftly.

She gasps softly and you smirk. “And that’s why I love you,” you tell her.

“That’s the only reason?” She asks and you smile to yourself before kissing down her neck. “Yeah, and because of these beautiful breasts… Your soft stomach…. Your strong legs…and, this tight pussy,” you say as you kiss down her body before finally reaching her centre. She’s wearing nothing underneath the dress, granting you all the permission you need. You suck her clit into your mouth as she drapes her thighs over your shoulders and pulls you closer to her wet cunt. Two of your fingers slowly delve into her hole, softly looking for the spot and when she moans airily, you know you’ve found it. You rub her g-spot softly as you suck her clit in your mouth. She’s a mess above you, tugging on your hair with one hand as the other pinches at her own nipples. She’s cum thrice before you finally stop, sitting back to catch your breath as she lays there, panting. You can’t help but smile at the thought that she is your wife.

Nat gently tugs on your hand as you turn to look at her.

“Sit on my face,” she commands and you’re about to complain when she pinches your side.

“Just do what I say, this night is about the both of us,” she says as she pulls you closer, manoeuvring your knees onto either side of her face as her hands frame your lower back, pulling you lower onto her face. She laps at your folds slowly before sucking your clit into her mouth as your fingers find purchase in her scarlet locks. You ride her face until your legs are shaking and you can no longer support yourself, falling down besides her. You’re exhausted but still a woozy smile adorns your face just like it does her.

Natasha couldn’t leave marks on you no matter how much she wanted to but you made up for it by leaving more than enough marks on her, her pale skin littered with deep red and maroon bruises and crescent moons adoring her thighs where you’d gripped them a little too hard.

You couldn’t imagine sex with His Majesty would come even close to this but you knew it had to happen. So once Natasha is asleep, you slip away with a note left for her on the pillow :

I may walk alone in the night’s chill,

But the taste of you lingers on my lips still.

#soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #angst #fluff #bucky barnes #cheating #female reader #medieval au #tw miscarriage #steve rogers #sam wilson #smut #original female characters #second marriage

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