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#bucky barnes x reader
navybrat817 · a day ago
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Librarian!Bucky Barnes! People aren’t really your forte; you’re not the best at verbal communication. It’s why you’ve always found solace in books. Your town librarian understands. You’re not sure how he came to be here, or who he was before, but the rumors don’t bother you. He leaves books for you in your check-out bin, notes written on post-it notes in the margins of the ones he knows will interest you. At last, someone who really understands.
😈
I adore this and hope you like what I came up with!
Prized Possession
Pairing: Dark Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're Bucky's rare treasure, his most prized possession. Word Count: Almost 1.5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Dubcon/Noncon elements (please do NOT read if that upsets you), drugging, kidnapping, cockwarming, mention of minor character death, dark elements, possessive behavior, displays of Stockholm Syndrome, librarian!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?), A/N: Hey, lovelies! Here's my submission for @boxofbonesfic Monkey Paw Challenge. Congrats on 7k! Thank you to Nix for the GORGEOUS Bucky edit and @late-to-the-party-81 for the beautiful moodboard. Also thank you to @sgt-seabass for "prized possession". Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!
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When you were little, you used to dream that you would one day fall in love with a handsome prince. All the books you read had the princesses being saved from their peril to live happily ever after. You wished for your prince to shield you from the darkness of the world and love you for who you are. Your parents eventually told you to get your nose out of the books and live in reality. It was a silly dream.
And dreams sometimes turned to nightmares. 
Bucky let out a sigh of happiness as he paused in his reading, reminding you of how good he felt to be surrounded by the heat of your wet pussy. One of his favorite ways to read to you was to have you seated on his hard cock, his lips against your ear as he spoke. It was a daily routine now and the dull ache between your legs was a sensation you had grown used to over time. He made sure of it. Everything began and ended with Bucky Barnes. 
Everything.
“Do you remember the day we met?” he asked, nuzzling the column of your throat as he rocked his hips up. 
“I do,” you whispered. 
Your life changed the moment you met him. A chance encounter with the handsome new librarian put you directly in his path. You hadn’t expected to bump into him while roaming the familiar shelves, clutching the small pile of books to your chest as he looked into your eyes. You had never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before. 
And you never would again.
“Is there something I can help you find?” 
“Y-You’re not Will,” you said, taking in his short, brown hair and strong jawline. He took up space between the shelves without meaning to with his muscular frame and you chided yourself for staring. 
The smile he gave you made you shrink back more. “No, I’m not. I’m actually his replacement. I’m Bucky.”
You said your name as he looked at you expectantly. You didn’t know Will planned to quit, but didn’t question it as Bucky helped you pick one more book. Instead of getting frustrated with your small nods and one or two word answers to his questions, he was careful to help choose the right story for you.
“Sorry,” you said as he helped you at the front desk, carefully looking over your library card.
“For what?” he asked, taking one more look before giving the card back and pushing the books toward you.
“Not saying much,” you answered, tucking them into your arms. Conveying messages through spoken word wasn't your strong suit, so you did your best to express it in other ways. A kind smile here and a friendly wave there, but it didn't always work. Books were comforting because they didn’t judge you.
“Nothing to apologize for, doll. I know not everyone is a chatterbox,” he swore, the small smile you gave in response making him grin. “Tell you what. Why don’t I leave a few books for you when those are due back so you don’t feel obligated to talk to me?” 
“Oh,” heat quickly rushed to your cheeks. “You don’t-”
“I don’t mind,” he promised. 
"Okay. Thanks,” you swore, giving him a tiny wave as you cradled the books with the other hand.
“See you soon, doll,” he smiled. 
You felt his eyes on you when you left and he hadn’t stopped watching you since.
“You had the most beautiful smile. It was endearing,” he explained, shutting the book and setting it aside.
You had heard whispers about Bucky since he took over at the library. Will had given no warning to quitting and no one even saw him leave town. Some say he killed him, but there was no proof. Others said that something wasn’t right in his mind after he served in the Army. You ignored the rumors. He mostly kept to himself and did a good job.
Maybe you should’ve listened.
“You were always nice to me.”
Whenever you saw Bucky around town, you gave him a small, awkward wave. He always waved back with a lopsided grin. You liked that he didn’t force you into interacting with him, but you found yourself drawn to him anyway. Who wouldn’t be drawn to a handsome, mysterious and kind man?
You should’ve questioned why you saw him around your street when he lived blocks away. Or why small things began to go missing from your place. You thought at the time that you were being forgetful. It was foolish to pretend.
“The world is a cruel place and I knew I had to protect you.”
Blaine was a bully who teased you relentlessly whenever he encountered you, knowing you wouldn't say anything back. It was usually a comment about your looks or how maybe you could you up if he fucked you. Bucky witnessed it once from a distance, but you rushed off before he could see if you were okay. It didn't bother you and you didn't want to trouble him. Blaine thought he found an easy target and nothing more.
He broke his neck in a freak accident two days later.
And Bucky left you a flower with a new stack of books.
“You wanted me. I know you did,” he grunted, thrusting up to make you keen. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to shove you against one the bookshelves and fuck you until you cried.”
You had a feeling it took a lot of restraint. There was always a dark look in his eyes in the moments he got close to you. A brush against your backside or a touch to your arm, but they somehow seemed innocent. 
There was nothing innocent about his intentions.
“You even kept all the notes I left you.” he sighed, tracing lazy circles along your clit as you whined.
Each time Bucky chose a book for you, he left a handwritten note. It was either a reason for why he chose the story or why he thought you’d like it. You appreciated that he chose romantic stories since most of the guys in town wanted nothing to do with you. Each one was special to you. He even asked you out on a date with a note.
They lined the wall across from you, along with photos Bucky had taken of you.
“My perfect doll. Never prying or asking questions,” he murmured, his teeth lightly nipping your soft flesh. “I knew I had to have you.”
Your first date was at his place, not wanting you pressured to go out in town. The romantic indoor picnic just for two felt personal and special. You didn’t remember much after having a drink of wine. But you knew you hadn’t been home since.
“I deserve you,” he lightly bit down again as he brought you closer to the edge, your legs trembling against his thick thighs. “My most prized possession.”
The missing items from your place were in the room, along with other things Bucky moved in. You weren’t sure how he gained access to your place. It was best not to ask. 
“Tell me you love me,” he urged, snapping his hips as you reached back to grip his hair. He groaned when you pulled on the short strands. “Now.”
“I love you, Bucky. I love you!” you cried. 
“Then come for me,” he demanded, pinching your swollen bundle of nerves.
A tear fell from your eye as you succumbed to pleasure, flooding his cock and lap with your release. He wrapped a hand around your throat to keep you still, his grip prolonging your orgasm. He knew your body, and had taken the time to explore it. And your cunt pulsed around him with the need to be filled.
“That’s my good girl,” he groaned, giving you what your body asked for after a few shallow thrusts, his seed coating your trembling walls.
“Yours,” you moaned because it was the truth.
Bucky breathed heavily against your shoulder as you head lolled to the side, but he refused to leave the haven of your body. “Let’s finish this chapter.”
“Okay,” you exhaled, seeping around his cock as he opened the book again. You stared off as he began to speak again, taking in the beauty of the prison he created for you. The four walls were spacious and fresh flowers brightened it up. And there was an endless supply of books.
“Look at this, doll,” he smiled as he held the open book in front of your face. “He wants to start a family. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Another tear fell as you sadly smiled and nodded. You didn’t know if anyone was looking for you or if they even cared. And Bucky? He wasn’t the prince who rescued you from the tower. He put you in one to preserve you. His most prized possession.
Bucky’s happily ever after.
*****
I'd really like to explore more librarian!Bucky, soft, soft!dark or dark. What do we think? Thanks for reading!
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angrythingstarlight · 23 hours ago
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Was bumblebee’s first word “dada” or was it like “Chanel”
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
A/N: Part of the Bumblebee series
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You and Bucky have a bet over what the baby's first words would be. The playful competition ramping up every day, and now the housekeeper, bodyguards and her uncles are involved. Everyone taking sides, trying to get her to say either mama or dada.
So far, nothing. 
Bumblebee is loving the extra attention, everytime you hold up her with your face in front of hers, repeating mama, can you say mama over and over, she giggles. Her tiny hands keep grabbing your face, silently asking for more kisses. 
Whenever she smiles brightly at you, she reminds you so much of Bucky. 
"Cheater," Bucky accuses, his arms folded across his chest. 
You lower your baby enough to glare at your husband. "Oh that's rich coming from the man who bought that talking stuffed bear. What did you program it to say again?" 
Bucky raises his chin, his gaze unrepentant. He strolls toward you, stopping when the baby is caught, almost squished between you. "You're not going to beat me malyshka. You know that I always get what I want."
Bumblebee continues babbling, her eyes bouncing between the two of you. You step closer, Bucky's hands grab your waist in a light hold. Your baby grabs your necklace and pulls it towards her open mouth. Slanting your head back, you meet his gaze while tugging the emerald away from her. "No, you don't."
Bucky scoffs. "Yes, I do. I got you didn't I?"True. "I have the best baby." Also true. He bends down, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "And-"
She beams up at him, a sweet wide smile that makes her chubby cheeks jut out, his eyes warming as he looks down at her. "Da. Dada."
You glance at each other, a slow, astonished grin slides across his face. "Did she just-"
Bucky lives for these moments and so do you.
He rests his foreheads on yours, savoring this time with his two favorite people. Then his grin turns into a smirk and you realize your sweet baby just made you lose your bet. You glare down at her, nudging her nose with yours. "You little traitor."
She laughs, right in your face. "Dada."
"Hey don't talk to my baby like that," Bucky interjects, gently extracting her from your arms before taking a step back. "You are so smart aren't you Bumblebee? We need to celebrate you being the best baby."
"Bucky," you admonish, already imagining all the toys he’s about to buy for her. "don't-"
He raises a brow. "You should worry about how you're going to pay up Malyshka."
He doesn't wait for your response, sauntering out of the room, resuming his conversation with Bumblebee. "Yes we do need to celebrate," he says, blowing a raspberry on her belly. "Yes, we do. What do you want? A toy. A toy for every time you say dada? Is that what you want?"
You know he already bought the toys- you found the stash he hide a week ago, he's just been waiting for an excuse to bring them into the house.
You trail after them, watching your baby wrap the city's most infamous mobster around her tiny finger. And you weren't surprised when her second word was Jamie. Mama ended up being third.
Something Bucky loves to bring up whenever Bumblebee choose you over him.
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bi-disaster-yn · 3 days ago
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Vital Organs
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader is in love with her best friend, Bucky. The feeling is mutual but having a troubled relationship with her father means that she’s scared to risk the heartbreak.
A/N: I MAY have cried while writing this. To all the girls who, like me, have shitty dads and derive a lot of comfort from Bucky - I’m dedicating this to you. We deserved better.
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“Do ya think you’d ever go on a date with me?”
Bucky’s words echoed in your brain, sending a sharp pain in your chest with each repetition. The quietness in the jet only increased the agony of that moment being replayed. Your best friend had stood before you and put his emotions on the line - something he had never afforded himself to do. Then you made him realise why.
Two of your ribs were fractured from the mission but that thought was more painful.
“So quiet, what are you thinking about?” Yelena commented, looking over her shoulder from her pilot duties to check up on you.
“Nothing.” You replied putting your hand over your ribs and resting your back against the seat.
Bucky was going to be so worried when he’d found out you’d been injured. You could see it now, him following you around like a puppy. At least, he might have done if you’d given him a better answer than ‘I don’t know’ to a date. When you left for the mission he had worn a wounded expression that he’d desperately tried to conceal as you told him goodbye.
The truth is, when Bucky had asked you that question it threw your body into a complete state of conflict.
Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, as if it was trying to escape and connect with Bucky’s. It was crying out for you to say yes to him and take everything you had ever wanted.
That was until your brain stepped in and lassoed your heart to keep it in its place. The logic had corrupted you and was determined to prevent you from getting hurt. It wore you down and drowned out the excitement of your heart. It went to work in bringing back all the disappointment and hurt caused by your father who had left you behind at an early age.
But your lungs burned. The air was trapped in them and you struggled to breathe. It felt like you were being suffocated. It was a curious and familiar feeling from when you were younger.
To be the daughter of a man who abandons you is to constantly hold your breath in fear that if you let go, you’ll fall apart.
The other organs had overpowered and barricaded your lonely heart. They left you in the predicament of stuttering and stammering in front of a very nervous Bucky which had concluded with your pathetic answer. The memory had plagued you ever since.
Simultaneously, your brain provided you with flashbacks of being a child and waiting excitedly for a a man that rarely ever came. The feeling of disappointment after every interaction with your father that somehow managed to make you feel so unimportant had returned. The lump in your throat held there with every breath reminded you of the struggle to accept that he was never going to be what you needed to him to be.
It had taken some bone-crushing strength to move on. He was your father and you needed him to be better. As his child, you believed you should be the only motivation he needed to stop being so unreliable and grow up.
Whilst you were right, that is unfortunately not how the world works.
Now the perfect man had asked you the question you deemed was only possible in your wildest dreams. But to say yes to him was to give him access to potentially do the exact same thing as your father had done.
It was just too much of a risk.
*
The jet had landed with a halt and Yelena came over to assist you with walking off. You were quietly grateful for her, trying to hide just how much pain in you were in as you grasped Yelena’s shoulder.
Sam was poised and waiting for you both. Bucky stood next to him, fidgeting anxiously in anticipation of your return. He had spent the last few days licking his wounds in your absence. He had accepted that you had only ever been so affectionate with him because you were a good friend and he’d misinterpreted it. It fucking stung, but he respected that you can’t help how you feel. Although your answer had left him unsure where he stood with you, he was eager for you to return so he could be the best friend you needed him to be.
Bucky’s face fell as his eyes landed on Yelena holding you up with your arm round her shoulders and your regular wincing.
“First of all, are you okay?” Sam asked, him and Bucky instinctively making their way over to you both, ready to take you from Yelena if need be.
“Yeah, just fractured some ribs. No biggie.” You joked but it sounded painful. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, scanning and analysing you, processing the possibilities if this had been worse.
It made you feel weak and incompetent. The strong super soldier wanted to protect you and all you could think about is that you wished you were stronger. All of those years of having to establish your independence and leave behind weakness and vulnerability were completely discarded in that moment with Bucky’s pitiful look.
“Okay well, get checked out. No training or missions for you until you’re better.” Sam instructed, having settled into his new role as Captain America; he needed to make sure his team were in the best shape possible.
“Got it, Cap.” You nodded at Yelena to get her to take you to the medical wing of the compound. That was when Bucky stepped in.
“I’ll take it from here, Yelena.” He said and before you could even say anything, you were scooped up into Bucky’s arms and he was carrying into the compound.
“I could have walked.” You protested meekly. Being in his arms felt awkward, you didn’t allow yourself to hold on to him because then you’d stop holding your breath and you’d be done for.
“This is easier.” He retorted. For the first time since Bucky had started his recovery, he was unable to look you in the eye.
It was stony silence between you both, each of you having moments to open your mouths but no words came out. Nothing felt right. Despite being in his arms, a gap had been wedged between you and you were unsure how you’d ever be able to get back to him again.
You fixated on Bucky’s jaw which was constantly clenched, you could just about feel his teeth grinding together. His slouched shoulders and defeated expression didn’t go unnoticed by you. He was your best friend, you knew everything about him. Bucky was heartbroken.
Heartbroken, yet he still showed up for you when you needed him.
*
It was now a requirement that the compound had medical staff on hand at all times. Pepper had insisted on it in the rebuild, too many people had been lost. More preventative measures were put in place to keep the team as safe as possible.
You were thankful that you didn’t have to go to hospital but it now meant that Bucky was glued to your side as you were checked over. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, digesting everything the doctor had said to you while you lay back wishing he would go away.
Bucky being there was a constant reminder that you’d hurt him. Locked inside its cage, your heart wept at the thought, desperate for you to tell Bucky you’d been stupid and you’d love to date him, marry him, die for him.
It made your lungs tighten and your breath hitch, ready to give way. You had to be stronger than this. Love was not worth risking the pain of being abandoned. You had vowed never to give anyone the power to make you feel that way again.
When the doctor left, Bucky settled back into his chair, clearly having no intention of leaving. You settled down on the bed, feeling drowsy from the painkillers and squeezed your eyes shut like a child, wishing that when you opened them that he’d be gone.
Alas, moments later when you opened your eyes again he was still there, watching over you protectively.
“You don’t need to sit with me, Buck. I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing.” You mumbled, looking away from him to stare out of the window.
“I am not leaving your side, need to make sure you’re okay.” Bucky responded. “And I missed you.”
His voice broke a little at the last four words, almost as though he was scared to admit it to you. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to his vulnerability but this felt different after him admitting to having feelings a few days prior. It made you frown.
“I missed you too.” You muttered. “I’m sorry about the other day.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said defensively and definitively as though he didn’t want to talk about it. He was ready to pretend it didn’t happen and move forward as your friend.
But Bucky deserved the whole world. The least you could do is offer an explanation.
“No, Bucky, you deserve better than an ‘I don’t know’. In all honesty, you’re… perfect. And I’ve loved you for a long time. The way my heart skipped a beat when you asked me that question, you have no idea. But I just can’t…”
“Why?” Bucky choked out, his voice still broken. He had moved to the edge of his seat again, his eyes constantly darting between you and your fingers which you were anxiously playing with.
“Can’t risk it. I can’t risk being abandoned.”
“I’d never leave you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” You snapped at him and instantly regretted it as you could sense his posture shrink with the unsolicited harshness. It wasn’t intentional but rather instinctual. Words were empty; if a parent could leave you then there was nothing to stop a boyfriend from doing the same thing.
“You promise me you won’t leave all the time.” Bucky offered after a couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence. He was right, in all of his moments of insecurity and grief after Hydra; it was you providing comfort and reassurance. It was you by his side, being his supportive and loving best friend.
“Because I know how shit it is to be left.” You sighed and felt the painful tug in your chest. Your breathing was rapid and your lungs were aching. They were agonisingly trying to keep everything in; keeping your heart locked up and holding your breath. You’d come too far, you couldn’t let go now.
“And you think I don’t?” It was Bucky’s turn to snap now.
His words were a cruel and embarrassing wake up call. It prompted you to give him eye contact and fuck, he really was broken.
It was so insensitive: you should have known better than that. Steve leaving him behind had had a profound effect on Bucky. Rarely did he ever let people see his tears but he had allowed you to cradle him like a baby while he sobbed for his friend who had left him behind.
“Buck, I’m so sorry.” You mumbled, feeling like a fool with your carelessness. Twice now had the tight leash you had kept on your lungs resulted in your words hurting Bucky. It was becoming more than you could bear.
Bucky shook his head lightly, waving off the comment and wiping the slate clean again. Nonetheless, he held your eye contact in search of further elaboration.
“It’s just I used to get all that crap from my dad about never leaving me and he did. It means nothing to me anymore. What if I’m not enough for you like I wasn’t for him?” Tears has trickled from the corners of your eyes and spilled down on to your face and the sheets.
Bucky wasted no time in getting up and sitting on the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. The remaining pieces of the puzzle formed in his head. He had known before that any mention of your dad made you extremely uncomfortable and he had always changed the subject. Bucky understood all too well what it was like to be left behind, but not by a parent. Not by one of the very few people in this world that actually owed you something. He cursed himself for not considering this beforehand but quickly turned his focus to comforting you.
This time you didn’t protest to being taken in Bucky’s arms, you just wept into his t shirt as he stroked your hair and pressed loving kisses to the top of your head. Your brain was too fatigued to provide you with reasons why you should push him away. You just needed him.
“I need to protect my heart.” You asserted finally, trying to explain yourself further.
“Sweets, you’re breaking your own heart.” Bucky sighed as he pulled you in closer to him.
Just as you had cradled him when Steve left, it was his turn to do it for you. Engulfed in those strong arms, he rocked you gently and carefully. It felt safe and warm and like home.
Now that your brain had called surrender on this pointless fight against your feelings for Bucky, it played a different film in your head than memories of your dad.
You remembered Bucky teaching you to ride a motorbike. He had put your helmet on for you and let out a hearty laugh at the goofy grin you’d given him. Everything he did that day was with extreme patience as he’d put his hands over yours on the handlebars, explaining what everything was and how it worked. The praise he’d given you when you did something right had encouraged you to keep trying. Conversely, when you got something wrong or made a mistake; Bucky was calm and reassuring, compelling you to try again.
Or the time you’d gotten sick and were bedridden for days. Bucky made it his personal mission to take care of you. He was out of his depth, sure, but he had just tried to mirror what you had done when you comforted him after nightmares. Your cup of tea was never empty, you were never left without enough blankets, you never had to wait for your medicine. Bucky was attentive, caring and there.
Even today, you knew that based on his stoic face that you’d hurt him. But he still turned up for you. He was nothing like your father.
Bucky had proved already that he could be there. He was right: you were breaking your own heart. The trauma of abandonment had caused you to deny yourself a love that felt like home. You had been judge, jury and executioner in your own trial and had made a mistake.
Then it happened. You stopped holding your breath.
Your lungs expanded as fully as possible and then shrunk dramatically again. This process continued over and over as you inhaled as much air as possible and then exhaled in deep, incredible breaths.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, looking down at the powerful heaving of your chest and listening to your breathing.
You nodded in response, unable to offer any words. Without realising, you had clutched on to his t-shirt and balled up a bunch of the fabric in your fist.
It was exhausting after having kept your lungs in tension for so long but it was so liberating to let go safely. Focusing on the thudding of his heartbeat in his chest, it grounded and secured you.
Your own heart was screaming in her cage, knowing her rightful partner was close and she needed to be near him. You had set your brain and lungs free, it was time to do the same for your heart.
With some slow coaxing from Bucky as he rubbed your back and continued to kiss the top of your head, you started to calm down. Your lungs adjusted to regular breathing and seemed content in their new routine of being used the way they should always have been.
Your head was rested on Bucky’s chest, still finding comfort in his regular, clockwork heartbeat. The fabric of his shirt that you had grasped before had been let go and was left wrinkled and misshapen.
“You know, Doll,” Bucky began. “I understand why you feel like that, but I’m not your dad, okay?” He took a moment to look at you and ensure that you weren’t too upset or triggered for him to continue.
“You say you love me, so can you trust me? Can we give this a go?”
You looked up and met the adoring gaze of his ocean eyes. Instead of answering him with words you pressed your lips against his. It was soft and gentle, his flesh hand moving to hold your face. Even with his eyes closed, he’d studied your face enough to know where to run his thumb so it was along your cheekbone.
It was the key to unlocking your caged heart. She leapt from her shackled prison and lunged for Bucky’s heart to connect with him. The hearts embraced with the deepening of your kiss and formed an unbreakable bond.
When you finally pulled back for air - which your lungs were well accustomed to now - you couldn’t help but give each other a chuckle. Your foreheads met as your hearts worked in unison to pull you as close to each other as possible.
“Is that a yes then?” He asked, with a cheeky smile stretched across his face.
The insecurity and fear of being left was still there. You accepted that it always would be on some level. On the other hand, you’d had enough of constantly being on your guard and having to be so strong all the time. No longer would you send your vital organs into mortal combat over an irrelevant man when the man in front of you just wanted to love you.
“Yes.” You decided. “Yes it is.”
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pellucid-constellations · 15 hours ago
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Spring in Stowe Mills
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Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Spring had sprung in Stowe Mills, leading you to try your hand at gardening. Unbeknownst to you, it was still far too cold in the mountain town for anything to actually grow, but Bucky was doing his absolute best to keep that small detail from crushing your hopeful smile.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Literally just some fluffy Undisclosed content thank you
a/n: This is a oneshot associated with my series Undisclosed, but can be read separately :) Enjoy!!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
~~
“Wow, this looks incredible, honey. It’s gonna be great,” Bucky grinned, arms strong across his chest as he leaned in the doorway. 
You glanced up from the soil, patting another tomato seed into the ground. “You think so? I’ve never really done this before.” 
“Coulda fooled me. You sure you didn’t have some rooftop garden back in New York?” 
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “As if my mother would have let me do that.” 
Bucky kicked away from the doorframe, joining you in your makeshift garden and crouching in the dirt. He placed a warm hand on your back as he thumbed at one of the leaves in the ground. 
He hummed, the sound sweet on your skin as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Have I ever told you how much I wish you’d gotten here sooner?” 
You turned, shifting on your knees until his lips met yours instead of your head. It was short and adoring, a sarrachrine brush that was quickly followed by a smile against your mouth. You placed a dusty glove on his thigh to steady yourself. 
“I think you’ve mentioned that before,” you giggled. “This time I’m wondering if it’s because you missed out on my gardening skills for so many years.” 
He moved forward to kiss you again, a hunger behind his lips. The spring sun was bright today, but the cold that nipped at your skin was still unforgiving. The light sweater Bucky had thrown over your shoulders helped a little, but the chill that you weren’t used to associating to the season was prominent. 
That was Stowe Mills—frigid and cold, even as spring danced the line of summer. 
“You’re freezing, sweet girl,” Bucky chastised, moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Let’s head inside, yeah? I’ll get you a bath goin’ before a bunch of people start raiding our kitchen.” 
You sent your gaze across the empty pots still lining the front of the house, frowning. “But I haven’t finished.” 
“I’ll help ya with it tomorrow. We gotta get you warm, honey.” Bucky took your forearms in his grip, lifting you from the ground with a gentle smile. 
“Buck, it’s spring. The sun’s out.”  
“Yeah, it’s out and it’s bein’ useless.” 
“You think it’ll still be okay for the plants?” you asked, a slight concern edging into your words. You had never attempted something like this before, and there was strangely a large part of you that really wanted your garden to be successful; call it making up for lost time. 
Bucky caught on to the inflection in your tone, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you shucked the gloves from your numb fingers. “‘Course it will, sweet girl. The trees grow just fine around here, don’t they?” 
“I guess so.” 
~~
Bucky Barnes was panicking. 
The second you had asked Sarah about those damn seeds, he had started to feel a bit antsy. He had no idea why she hadn’t informed you that hardly anything grew in Stowe Mills, but she didn’t, and now he was wondering how discreetly a full grown tomato plant could be shipped into town. 
Technically, he could have told you as much, but you had looked so excited when the small packets finally arrived; there was no way he was going to shoot down the smile he loved so much. 
So he helped haul soil and ceramic pots into the front yard, and presented you with the gardening tools one of the old shop owners dusted off from a backroom. Because it was spring. And apparently spring meant it was time to start a garden. 
“You know she’s not gonna get a single sprout outta all that, don’t you?” Steve posed, motioning outside with the drink he held in his hand. 
“Keep your damn voice down,” Bucky hissed. He popped his head out of the kitchen, ensuring that you were still getting dressed back in the bedroom. “I know that, you punk.” 
“So why’re you letting her waste her time?” 
Bucky grunted, leaning back against one of the counters. “I don’t know, man, she looked so excited. What was I supposed to say?” 
“That her cucumbers are going to wither away the second we get too much rain. Which’ll probably be like… next week.” 
“How the hell’d you know she planted cucumbers?” 
Steve furrowed his brow. “My ma has a Better Homes and Garden subscription. I just guessed based on spring plants.” 
“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s Sarah’s magazine subscription,” Bucky taunted, lightly hitting his friend over the arm. The bedroom door creaked open. “Okay, shut up. Not a word.” 
Steve shot his hands up in surrender, plastering a genuine smile on his face when you came into the kitchen with Alpine pressed to your chest. You gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek, and then made a beeline for the other man in the kitchen. 
“Steve!” you greeted, throwing him into a side hug. “Glad to see you got back in one piece. With all of the calls I got from Nat, I was sure she was going to leave you behind in Kansas or something.” 
Steve rolled his eyes and reached down to ruffle your hair, earning a discontented sound from Alpine. “She couldn’t leave me behind. She hates being the one to talk to the guys at the other lumberyards. Says they never leave her alone.” 
You laughed, knocking your shoulder into his and heading over to the fridge. Bucky felt his chest constrict at the sound, biting his lip to contain the stupid grin about to take over his face; the last thing he needed was Steve making fun of him in his own house. Which he would definitely do, right after he tried to ruin your gardening dreams.
“I saw the yard, y/n,” Steve shot out, nonchalant as Bucky glared daggers into the side of his head.
You turned, letting the fridge click shut. “Did you like it?” you asked, eyes shining with excitement. 
Bucky could see the moment Steve lost his drive. His eyes softened and his smile faltered just the slightest bit; apparently, your hopeful nature didn’t just pull on Bucky’s heartstrings. 
Steve took a cautious glance at Bucky, the latter raising a brow as if to drive an unspoken point home. He nodded in your direction, daring Steve to tear you down as you stood there with a cat and a bottle of juice in your arms. 
“Looks great, y/n. Really livens the place up,” Steve finally replied, sighing when you smiled back in response. 
Bucky sagged against the counter, getting over one hurdle of this whole ordeal. He could deal with dying plants later; right now he just needed your friends to play along. You didn’t seem to notice the silent conversation he had with Steve, so this one was considered a win. 
You released Alpine into Steve’s hands, walking back until your back was pressed against Bucky’s chest. He wound an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, happy that you felt a bit warmer than you had outside. 
“Is Sam coming?” you asked, trying and failing to untwist the lid on your drink. Bucky took it from your hands with a silent smile, opening it after your feigned scoff. He chuckled when you took it back, mumbling something along the lines of loosening it for him. 
“He might be,” Steve pondered. “His lumber delivery ran a little late. Not sure if he’s back just yet.” 
Bucky stiffened. If Sam came here, his first comment would be about the state of the yard. And then it would be something about the uselessness of a garden in Stowe Mills, and you would cry. Okay, you might not cry, but the disappointment on your face would feel the same to Bucky. And then Bucky would have to fight his friend. 
He threw a look at Steve from above your head, eyeing his phone as it sat on the table across the room. Steve cocked his head to the side before his features lit up in recognition, a firm nod following the pointed glare from his friend. 
“You guys are acting weird,” you hummed, knocking your head back to gaze up at Bucky. “Why are you acting weird?” 
Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, blinking down at you with an uncomfortable smile. “We aren’t actin’ weird, sweet girl.” 
“You are. Weirdos.” 
You removed yourself from Bucky’s chest, taking Alpine back with a side eye in Steve’s direction. He huffed at you, but you paid no mind as you headed for the couch piled with blankets—most of which he had made. 
Bucky watched you with caution, now hyper aware of his obvious behavior. “If he’s coming,” Bucky mouthed. “Text him.” 
Steve nodded and reached for his phone. 
Bucky made himself busy in the kitchen for a while, getting things prepped for dinner even though he had no idea how many people would be arriving. It had been like that ever since you moved in; people loved coming over unannounced, and Bucky attributed that to the warmth you brought to the place. 
To the whole town, if he was being honest, but he might be a bit biased. Not that he cared in the slightest if he was considered biased.
He was just about to interrupt your book and ask you if you wanted to make the bread for the night, when a knock came at the front door. Steve’s head whipped up from his place at the sink, eyeing his phone that hadn’t pinged once since his text to Sam, which was something Bucky had also taken special care to track as well. 
And Sam never knocked when he came over.
Bucky narrowed his eyes as you kicked up from the couch. “You expecting someone?” 
A blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, you simply replied, “Greta.” 
Bucky paled, his urge to run to the door and lock it indefinitely almost boiling out of him. Of all the people in Stowe Mills, Greta was possibly the worst for this situation; that old lady would break his girl’s heart faster than the hinges would finish squeaking on the door. 
Bucky wiped his hands on a towel and hurried out of the kitchen, blocking your path with gentle hands on your arms. “What’s she doing here?” he stressed, words spoken slowly as Steve tried to slink behind him. 
You peeked around Bucky’s shoulder, raising a brow at a guilty-looking Steve. “Am I not allowed to answer the door?” 
“Can someone open this damn thing?” Greta called, words muffled from the wind outside. “God forbid you let an old woman come in from the cold.” 
You turned back to Bucky to throw him an accusatory look, and he sighed, releasing you and motioning for Steve to open the door. He might as well brace himself for heartache now; the look on your face was going to be devastating in about ten seconds. 
Greta came barreling in, huffing past Steve and grumbling, “Those plants outside are gonna die. Ain’t no gardening in Stowe Mills.” 
The whole room cringed. Bucky reached for you again as you blinked over at Greta, trying to provide some comfort after that brutal truth. But Greta wasn’t done. 
“You’re gonna keep planting and nothing’s gonna happen. Colder than a well-digger’s wallet out there. No one tell you that, girl?” 
Bucky just about died on the spot from the crestfallen expression on your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear as you replied, “Uh, no, they didn’t.” 
The older woman scoffed, “Men.” 
Steve let out a heavy breath as you bit the inside of your cheek, his chest expanding and his hands coming out to relieve the tension. He turned to Greta with a sheepish smile on his face. 
“Why don’t I get you something to eat, Greta?” 
She grumbled and hobbled behind him as he led her to the kitchen, leaving you and Bucky in the doorway and silent. This had gone south far faster than Bucky had anticipated, and he had to act quickly to try and save your feelings. The hand that had tucked your hair back now rested on your cheek, his thumb sliding back and forth against your skin. 
“‘M sorry, sweet girl,” he began. “I didn’t want you to be upset.” 
Your mouth twisted up, and Bucky feared for the worst. Maybe you were going to cry, and if you cried, he would probably cry. And it’s not like he could fight Greta. Bucky was about a moment away from going outside to yell at the sun to actually work for once, when another sound escaped you. 
You were laughing. 
You were trying your hardest to keep it in, but the smile creeping onto your face was impossible to miss, and your shaking shoulders were slowly jostling Bucky’s own body. 
Bucky eyed you, dubiously. “What are you—” 
“Oh my god,” you laughed, leaning your forehead to his chest. “This is hilarious, Buck. I can’t.” 
Bucky let out a nervous laugh, bringing his hand up to rest it on the back of your head. He patted you, glancing around the room as if something was going to jump out at him. It wouldn’t have been a far cry from what was happening right now. 
Your giggling finally let up a bit, and you leaned back, wiping your eyes. “Why wouldn't you just tell me? You walked out there every day and—” another laugh escaped you; you tried to hold it back “—you acted like I was doing such a great job. You carried like… ten bags of soil in from your truck!” 
An actual smile spread across his face when he took in your joy—whatever it was from. “You told me you wanted to start a garden,” he replied simply, as if it made perfect sense. 
You shook your head, voice still laced with humor. “You knew a garden wouldn’t work here.” 
“I was gonna order you some plants and replace them while you slept.” 
God, he could listen to you laugh for the rest of his life, and at this rate, it seemed like he was going to. Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead and caught Steve’s questioning gaze from the kitchen. He could still barely understand what was going on, but shook his head at his friend anyway; you were fine—happy and still laughing, even when all of your hard work was down the drain. 
“Buck, I love you so much, you know that?” 
“‘Course I do,” he said. “Just don’t really know what that has to do with all your plants.” 
434 notes · View notes
wkemeup · a day ago
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Sky Full of Song (7)
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series summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. Pirate/Siren AU
pairings: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader
chapter word count: 7k
warnings: canon level violence, a moment of confrontation, shit goes down 
🏴‍☠️ series masterlist // series playlist
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You woke with a crick in your neck.  
Sleep took you swiftly after Dugan retreated up the stairs, your body depleted from rush of ocean currents over sore muscles and the use of the siren’s song. You wouldn’t regain its power again for at least another week – and that was assuming your recovery time was the same as it was as a child when you’d used it without understanding its consequences on your muddied mortal blood.  
It was an awful feeling to strip someone of their free will. Your father had warned you once that it would entice you, that it would draw you in like the shiny gems you chased across the seas, that it would ravage your mind like a disease. It was an addiction, he’d told you. An addiction to the power it would give you over another – to bend their will to your own making.  
There was no piece of you that did not feel unnerved and shamed for the use of the siren’s song. No shred of satisfaction in the power it lent you – power that sought to destroy you as easily as it would its victim. You’d broken the will of the one man who risked everything to give you a chance aboard his ship, who had sought to save your life despite knowing his own path would lead him to the depths of the water.  
There was no coming back from that betrayal.  
The siren’s song never held an appeal for you before. It had only been something you coexisted with, learned to ignore within yourself. Now, it felt like a plague. A weapon you could not shake from your body. A shameful burden you would carry with you for the rest of your life. No matter how short that may be.  
You groaned as you pushed yourself upright, leaning against the outer bars of the cell. Hay stuck into your still dampened hair, clinging to the sweat on your skin. Fragments of the straws caught within the barbed necklace laced around your throat – prickles of fresh blood bubbling over the dried bits around the barbs. Your shoulders ached from where your arms were constricted at the base of your spine, bindings still wrapped at your wrists. Raw and bloodied skin rubbed against the ropes.  
Slowly, your eyes began to adjust to the dim light of the brig. A single candle was hung in the far distance beyond the cell, offering only a glimpse of light. The darkness it carried seemed to leave behind something under your skin – an uneasiness, an awful sense of loneliness despite the dozens of men stomping their boots about the deck.  
You’d never once felt lonely on this ship. Not even under the knowledge that most of the crew resented your place amongst their ranks. No – you had the ocean, you had the small group of friends you’d made of good, decent men. You had your captain.  
Had.  
You swallowed back a lump burning in your throat, tears threatening your eyes. The sharp edges of the barbed collar pierced your skin with every strangled inhale. It hurt no less than the splintering in your chest. 
A slight shift of movement within the brig stilled you to stone. You held your breath, wondering whether Lawrence had snuck into the cellar to be rid of you before the captain could carry out his own justice.
Would that be better, you wondered. Easier, perhaps? To never have to see the look of disgust in your captain’s eyes? 
A figure was sitting on the barrels of rum, just outside the cell. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it before – shadows covering his face, his hands busy cleaning a trusted revolver. Blending into the darkness as if he were made for it. As if it welcomed him home. As if he’d been there for hours, waiting patiently in the solitude.  
“My men are intent on throwing you overboard,” came the voice of your captain.  
Your heart stumbled on its beat.  
Slowly, Bucky leaned into the soft reflection of light from the nearby window. It coated over the lines on his face, the sharp clench of his jaw, sinking into the startling blue of his eyes. Still – he gave you no read on whether he was among those same men readying to end your life for your betrayal.  
“I know what the crew believe you to be,” he continued, standing as he pulled the keys to the cell from his pocket, twisting them among nimble fingertips, “but I also know what they thought of you before we crossed paths with this damned island. I’m not particularly inclined to trust their judgement.” 
You watched his every movement as Bucky slid the key into the lock and unlatched the door. He paused for a minute on the threshold of the cage and you wondered if he was carrying lingering hesitancy for his innate compassion towards you, if he chastised that part of himself that may still care for the monster locked away in the cell. Still, he opened the door, the hinges crying as they parted. 
“I know I what I saw, Y/n,” Bucky said sternly.  
Your stomach dropped as he admitted to your worst fears. Of course, he remembered. That foolish inclination towards hope would be the end of you far before the men above deck anchored you and threw you to the seas.  
“My memories are not clear, but I know enough,” Bucky continued. Though, there was a sliver of uncertainty in his voice, a slight shift of a question at the end of every word – as if he was looking to you to confirm what he already knew to be true.  
Bucky raked a hand through his hair as he paced through the cell. “I remember jumping ship. I remember being... stripped apart – like that siren had burrowed a hole into me and tore away everything that ever made me who I was. It made me forget my men, my life on this ship... you. I was going to die at that siren’s hand.” 
His gaze met yours, blue eyes searching for answers. “I know Lawrence took the wax from your ears and I... I panicked. I don’t– I’ve never felt like that before. The thought of losing you to the sirens...” Bucky shook his head, as if to rid the possibility from his mind. He exhaled a slow, steady breath to calm his racing heart. “But you didn't fall prey to the song, did you? Too many seconds passed by without it claiming your mind.” 
Tears blurred your eyes as you watched him riddle out his own disbelief, trying to make sense of what you had done. He paced over the creaking floors, wringing his hands. You wondered how long he waited in the darkness, wrestling with the vague pieces he remembered of his time under the water and the woman he thought he knew. Wrestling with the godawful sting of betrayal that came with it.  
Your father hadn’t had glimpses into his time with the siren like this. He had barely been able to retain a faded memory of what happened to him. Your captain should not remember as much as he did. You could blame it on your dirty blood or a connection shared between you that held beyond even the power of the siren. It didn’t matter, you supposed. He knew enough to condemn you.  
Bucky ceased in his pacing, his back to you. Slowly he turned over his shoulder, truly looking at you for the first time since he opened the door to the cell. The slight flicker of his gaze to the bloodied marks on your neck did not slip your notice, nor did the flex in his fist as he squeezed it tight. He appeared to force himself to look away, pulling his focus to your eyes.  
“But somehow, still in control of your own will, you followed me into siren infested waters. You killed the creature intent on taking my life,” Bucky went on, softer this time. He swallowed then, as though the coming words were heavy upon his tongue – drying as sandpaper. Still, he continued.  
“But then, you started singing and that same feeling pushed into my soul again – like it had burrowed into my basic instincts, shifting them to a will I didn’t recognize,” Bucky said, surely condemning you. Lead solidified in your stomach, in your chest, in your lungs, until you could hardly breathe.  
“Only,” Bucky continued, a startling tenderness in his voice that nearly shattered you, “I didn’t feel unmade like I had before. It didn’t feel like an invasion. It... it just felt like you.” 
Slowly, Bucky sank to his knees at the barrel where you sat. His gaze carefully looked over you, taking in the new bruising and cuts he hadn’t seen above deck amongst the chaos, and his jaw clenched. A darkness clouded over the blue in his eyes but it wasn’t anything like how the siren’s song laid claim to the striking color. Instead of it closing him off from you, they offered a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in his armor. 
He looked away, the stone fading from his features. 
“You kissed me,” Bucky said simply and your heart nearly shattered on impact.  
He shouldn’t have remembered that. He couldn’t. Because that would be your undoing. It would spell your end. If he hadn’t been convinced of the monster in your blood, then the siren’s kiss was all the proof he needed.  
But he didn’t flinch away from you in disgust. When he looked at you again, a strange weight clung to his features – a heaviness, an aching, you couldn’t quite place.  
“Much of it is a blur to me, but I...” Bucky sighed, brushing his fingertips over his bottom lip, as if to touch the memory itself, “I remember the kiss.” 
His lips parted and swiftly closed, making you wonder whether there was more he left unsaid. If he remembered the taste of your lips, how they molded so perfectly against his own. If he remembered how your body felt pressed against his – his hands snaking around your waist to brush the skin of your lower back. Because you remembered. You remembered every second of that kiss. 
His eyes flickered back to the collar around your neck and his jawline flexed. He took in a steady breath and then, carefully, began to reach a hand to you – familiar, and still, you could not trust it. Not after every warning your father had instilled in you of the men who would sooner slit your throat and dissect your remains should they learn of your truth. Your breath hitched as Bucky’s hand drew near to your neck, your body tensing, and he froze.  
His brow pinched at the center and what appeared to be a deep, unsettling sadness crossed the blue of his eyes. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. It had never once crossed your mind before these Isles that he might try to hurt you, to silence you himself with his own bare hands, but still your body reacted as if he might.  
He’d promised to interrogate you, hadn’t he? You’d seen how the darkness crept into the captain you knew when he crossed the threshold into this cell – how he’d beat his knuckles raw in search of information more times than you were able to count. It was an effective method; well proven in his many years leading this crew.  
And yet— 
Bucky held up his hands apprehensively, giving you a moment to recognize the lack of malice in his eyes, the ginger nature of his touch. You could not find a trace of the darkness you prepared yourself to find. Instead, Bucky dipped his head in a reassuring nod as he carefully reached for your neck again – slower this time, allowing you to watch his every movement.  
His fingertips grazed your skin and you nearly whimpered at the touch – the gentleness of it. Holding your gaze, Bucky unlatched the barbed collar from around your neck, carefully prying the sharp edges from your skin and granting you the levity of the stale air in the brig. You drew in a shallow, shaken breath.  
Bucky exhaled tensely as he settled his thumb to the cuts on your neck, the deep scratches where the pronged edges of the necklace had jabbed to your skin. He touched you as if he might be able to wipe the wounds away as easily as he did the blood, as if he could heal you himself. He tossed the collar to the other side of the cell with force. It clung against the metal of the bars.  
“You saved my life, Y/n,” Bucky admitted to the silence of the cell. His hand remained along your neck, examining the marks there. You were certain he could feel the pounding race of your heartbeat through his fingertips.  
Slowly, he allowed himself to meet your gaze again. “None of it makes any sense to me. These things I remember... What the men insist happened... What we know to be true about the sirens... I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to trust me with this, to help me understand.” 
You stared helplessly back at him. You’d never trusted anyone the way you had Bucky, but you’d sworn to keep this secret your entire life. Men would kill you out of fear or ignorance or sport if they learned what you were; might try to use you to evade the sirens or tear you apart in search of what made you born of the ocean. You father had made you promise to never tell a living soul of the siren’s blood in your veins – not even those you believed you could trust.  
Because no one trusted a siren. 
No one.  
“Y/n,” Bucky tried again, a strain etching into his voice. Desperation, maybe. “Talk to me. It’s only us down here. Only me. You know that I would never...” 
He forced out a tense breath as if he could hardly say the words aloud: the very possibility that he would hurt you.  
“Please...” he whispered, begged, “just say something.” 
You parted your lips, trying to force out the words your captain wanted from you – to confirm what he already knew, to give name to the monster you were. But it lodged in your throat, muffled as if you still wore the barbed wire around your vocal cords. You’d spent too many years suffocated by this secret, by the paralyzing fears of what it meant to trust someone with it, and now—you were drowning in it.  
Tears slipped over your cheeks. Burdened in shame, you looked away. 
Bucky exhaled, his head dipping. Defeat drew lines along his face.  
He didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees. Disappointment weighed on his shoulders as he left through the open cell door. He closed it behind him and locked the bars, lingering just beyond the barrier in hopes you might change your mind. But the silence was crippling and he turned away from you.  
Perhaps it was too painful to look at the monster he once trusted, to see betrayal personified in the women who would have done anything for him. 
Or— 
Or maybe, he was as lost as you felt. Confused. Uncertain. Greiving the loss of what he thought he knew and desperate to understand what fell in its place. Maybe he wasn’t like the men your father warned you about. Maybe... your father was wrong.  
Because even if you knew little else, you knew Bucky was a good man. You knew his compassion outweighed the rumors of his ruthlessness. You knew he trusted you with things he would not dare show the rest of the crew. Perhaps, he would not see you as the monster his crew argued you to be. 
He’d always been different, hadn’t he? You'd known that from the first moment you saw him on that pier, smirking at the little girl who’d chased down her bully with a hairbrush in hand. If anyone was to be worthy of this truth, of this secret that would surely spell your death to any other man, it would be your captain.  
And you let him walk away.  
He neared the stairs, almost out of view, and fear lurched inside you.  
It was crippling, agonizing – the panic that you might lose him not to the sirens or the muddied blood in your veins, but to your own volition, to your own cowardice. 
“Wait,” you called after him, but your voice was too shattered, too broken by the song to be heard above the creaking of the ship. He continued his ascent up the stairs, each step cleaving a fracture through your heart. 
Your hands began to shake.  
“Wait... stop...” you tried again, your voice slowly gaining back strength. But it wasn’t enough. You could see the weight pressing into Bucky’s shoulders, the heaviness of each step. He was nearly to the top.  
You sat up straighter, determination drowning away the burning ache in your chest, demanding strength to your voice. 
“Bucky—” 
He stilled dead in his tracks.  
It wasn’t that you’d spoken, or that your voice was tarnished from the song and the collar. No – he stilled so suddenly because it was the first time his name had come from your lips. Not ‘Captain.’ Not ‘Barnes.’ 
Bucky.  
Slowly, he turned. His lips parted; breath heavy in his chest as he studied you. Something in him softened under the weight of his own name in your voice, a shiver in his bones. His hands clenched at his side though he made no movement toward you.  
“Wait.” You swallowed back tears; the distance between you physically aching. “Please... don’t go. I’ll tell you everything. Anything. Just... don’t... don’t go.” 
A sob cut through and before you could wipe your eyes on the shoulder of your damp blouse, Bucky had rushed the remaining distance and reopened the cell door, his strong frame kneeling in front of you. Your hands began to tremble violently against the ropes and he set a comforting hand upon your knee, urging you to speak.  
“It’s true,” you whispered, your words still broken and raspy in the effort. “It’s all true. I’m... I’m so sorry.” 
There was no flicker of surprise on his face. If anything, there was a level of relief you couldn’t quite understand. His hand rubbed tenderly along your thigh, drawing the trembling from your muscles and the shakiness from your hands.  
“How is this possible?” he asked steadily, softly.  
“I'm only half blood.” You drew back the taste of bitterness on your tongue. “My mother was a siren. So little of me is made of her, but it’s enough for others to fear me. I only used the song once before when I was a child, when I didn’t know any better. I never intended to use it again. You have to believe me. I never wanted to use it again.” A rock burned at your throat, threatening to choke you, to suffocate you. “But you... you jumped and I had to do something. You kept swimming after the siren, even after I killed her. You would have drowned if I hadn’t used the song on you and I couldn’t let you—” 
"You hid this from me,” Bucky said, his voice laced thick with remorse as the words died upon your lips, “all these years. Why?” 
You stilled, stunned by his question until you absorbed the sincerity in his words. His thumb brushed gentle strokes along your knee, a tenderness you’d hardly been able to grasp before he knew what you were and now... He did not flinch from you, did not revolt in disgust. He still showed you the same kindness, the same trust and care.  
But you had needed to protect yourself and your secret – even from him. It was the only way your survived.  
“Look where I am,” you exhaled, gesturing to the bars encasing you in the brig and the ropes tied at your wrists. “Can you blame me? The crew already distrusts me as a woman. If they knew what my mother was... it wouldn’t just be taunts and dirty looks. They would have killed me.” You looked out to the window where a glimpse of ocean water crashed against the foggy glass. “They still might.” 
“I won’t let that happen,” Bucky retorted sharply, his words coated in a stern determination that made your heart clench. He squeezed your knee. “Do you hear me? I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 
He flinched as his gaze dropped to the dried blood on your neck.  
“I won’t... I won’t let them hurt you beyond what I have already shamefully allowed,” Bucky carefully amended, guilt pressed heavy on his features. “I have failed you. You saved me and I... I failed you. I will never deserve your forgiveness, but know that I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe from those men. To my last breath, I swear that to you.” 
Your lips parted, trying to find the right words – to understand how he could possibly still look at you the way he was now, how he could so easily rush to your defense despite the years you spent lying to him of your true nature, of the monster you were under the surface. All this and still – he found a way to carry the blame himself.  
All you could force beyond your lips was a disbelieving “...what?” 
Bucky stroked his hands down your arms and gingerly took his pocket knife to the ropes binding your hands. As they slid from your wrists and the cool touch of air coaxed over the burns, you shivered, hissing at the burning sensation left in its wake. He helped to ease your hands to your lap, careful of the soreness in your shoulders from keeping your hands locked at the small of your back for so long. You winced at the tenderness, the dull ache, though it was long forgotten as Bucky drew your hands to his mouth and tenderly kissed the wounds. 
Your breath soon left you entirely.  
“I have always cared for you, Y/n. More than I should,” he admitted, the warmth of his lips lingering over your skin. “You risked everything when you jumped in the water after me. You saved my life. Whatever blood runs through your veins does not usurp the woman I know, does not take her from me and morph her into a creature I can easily despise.” 
You watched him as he held your hands in his own, how easily he touched you. It felt like a dream, one where you were not the monster your mother made you to be.  
“You’re... You’re not afraid of me?” 
Something sank in Bucky’s eyes at your question. The ocean blue currents cracking as his gaze flicker to your swollen wrists. A lingering guilt rose to the surface, painting into the lines on his face.  
“My fear is not for the siren in you,” he said simply, with such sincerity it nearly broke you. “It is for the blade of our enemy that comes too close to your neck, for the recklessness you are so often prone to, for the overwhelming pull I feel towards you that renders me helpless beyond what I can take. That is what I fear, my love. Not you. Never you.” 
“But I— I lied to you,” you argued though your own tears, unwilling to accept his easy forgiveness, unable to understand how he could so blindly trust you when you’d spent years hiding from him. “I betrayed you. You should be lining up to throw me to the sea with the rest of the crew.” 
“You think so little of me?” Bucky questioned, pained as his lips curved to a frown. “You truly believe me capable of laying harm to you? That I would disregard your years upon this ship and every time you have saved my life and the lives of these men? Why? Because you carry siren’s blood? Because you have an incredible – albeit, terrifying – power? You were protecting yourself with this secret. I know that. As much as I wish you had trusted me with this, I know why you couldn’t. I’ll admit that I don’t quite understand it all, but I don’t need to. I know you. I trust you. That is enough for me.” 
Bucky’s fingertips ghosted along your cheek, brushing away the tears as they slid over your jawline. “I swore once that I would protect you. I meant that.” 
It shattered whatever remained of your doubts, of the guilt and shame you carried for hiding the truth from your captain. This impossible man who had granted you far more than he could ever know. He saved you – in more ways than one – the day he agreed to take you aboard his ship. You’d never known loyalty and quiet affection until you met him.  
“This is why you sought to keep us from these waters, isn’t it?” Bucky said quietly, the realization heavy. “All this time, you knew what we would find here. That it might expose you. You knew it could end like this, even as I pleaded for your blessing to travel to this island. You agreed to train the same men who would turn against you in a moment if they knew your truth. You did this... because I asked it of you.” 
The guilt weighing in his voice bottomed in your stomach. And still, you nodded, unwilling to lie to him a moment longer. “I only wished to keep you safe.” 
A sad smile lifted the edges of his lips. Beautiful, even amongst the dim lighting of the single candle and the faded sunlight marked by clouds and stained glass. Always beautiful.  
"Then we have that in common, don’t we?” There was a breath of laughter in his voice.
His right hand gently pushed the dampened hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your ear. His smile began to fade the longer he looked at you – sinking not into a frown, but into something else entirely. Something that resembled awe. Longing.  
“Bucky...” you exhaled his name and you watched as a shiver trembled over him.  
Your gaze flickered to his lips – the full pink restored in color from his time under the water. His hand cupped at the side of your face, holding you steady, gently, as he drew you closer, as you neared him. Heart pounding, skin thrumming in anticipation. His lips were but a breath from yours.  
“Captain!” a voice shouted from the stairs.  
You pulled apart as footsteps bounded down from the deck. You turned to find Morita and Jones rushing into the brig with wide, panicked looks in their eyes. They did not seem surprised by the lack of the collar and bindings, nor the captain’s close proximity to you.  
Bucky jumped to his feet, his body quickly shielding yours. “What is it?” 
“The crew,” Morita replied, panting as his worried gaze shot in your direction. “They’re growing restless. They’re gathering chains.” 
Your stomach dropped as Bucky reached for you. His arm darted across your chest, acting as a barrier. You both knew what the chains meant – weights to carry you to the bottom of the ocean, to rob you of the air in your lungs and force you to the home you never truly belonged in.  
“I’m still the captain here,” Bucky snarled. “They can’t do a damn thing against her without my say.” 
“I don’t believe the crew recognizes that anymore, sir,” said Jones. “Dugan is trying to keep them at ease, but they will come for her. Soon.” 
Bucky held the steel in his bones for only a moment longer, contemplating his options. A war seemed to rage inside his mind; his frequent glances to the light seeping in through the open stairway lingered before he turned to you. The hardened lines of his muscles began to soften as his gaze filtered over the raw wounds on your wrists, the speckles of blood on your neck, the reflection of tears on your cheeks. He took one final look to the stairs before his shoulders sank, a tired determination rising to the surface. 
“Ready the rowboat,” he ordered. “We shouldn’t be more than a few days journey from land. We’ll need enough supplies to get safely to shore.” 
“What?” you gaped. “No, you— you can’t do that! I won’t let you give up this ship for me. Your legacy is everything to you and I’m not worth—” 
“Don’t you dare.” Bucky grabbed a firm hold of your forearm, still cautious of the bruising, and pulled you close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “Don’t insinuate for a second that this ship means more to me than your life. We’ll find a new vessel. A new crew. Take one if we have to. I don’t want this one if they’re out for your blood.” 
Despite the hardened stone on his features, Bucky’s touch to the edge of your cheek carried such tenderness it drew a breathy gasp from your lips. His thumb eased away the lingering tears on your skin, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your lips. Your argument died on your tongue. 
Bucky let a weakened smile curve at the ends of his mouth. It wasn’t enough to reach his eyes – not with the chaos brewing above deck, but it eased the burden from his features. He pressed his lips against your temple, lingering a few seconds longer than needed before he turned back to Jones.  
“Let’s get out of here. Now. Before they—” 
Heavy footsteps pounded on the old, wooden stairs. One after another. Slow in succession. Determined. Confident. Each stormed like thunder inside your chest, rattling every nerve in your body.  
Lawrence was the first to emerge from the shadows, several of the crew behind him carrying weapons in hand. All of which were pointed directly at you. There was no mistaking the malice upon their faces nor the certainty with which they aimed their weapons. They were here to kill the monster in the brig.  
“Step out of the way, Captain,” Lawrence growled, though his stare remained on you as if it could burrow a hole between your eyes. Disgust was not a strong enough word to contain the glare he carried. 
You longed for the dagger and revolver that had once held home on your hips.  
Bucky inched himself in front of you; his body acting a shield. The flash of surprise on his crew’s faces did not go unnoticed.  
“Don’t do this, Lawrence,” Bucky warned, his stance steady.  
But Lawrence did not tear his gaze from yours. His teeth bared as if he were foamed at the mouth; rabid in his fury. “Do you have any idea the havoc she could wreak upon us? You allowed this creature to be unmuzzled when she could lure every last one of us to our deaths!” 
“She is not what you think she is,” Bucky said slowly – the contrast to Lawrence’s crazed anger stark.  
“She is exactly what we always believed her to be! A curse!” Lawrence roared, spit flailing from his lips. “We must put an end to the monster before it has a chance to do the same to us!” 
Bucky unlatched the safety on his revolver. Stunned gasps echoed through the crew as Lawrence straightened his back. The men behind him held their weapons higher; a stand-off in the middle of the brig. Some of the crew’s weapons were trembling in their hands, fear of their own captain drawing hesitancy to their convictions.  
"She is not your enemy,” Bucky growled as he adjusted the leverage of his gun, “but if you don’t step aside, I’m about to be.” 
Lawrence licked at his lips; a deadly silence masked only by the crash of waves against the rim of the ship coating the brig. “So be it.” 
Gunfire rang in your ears and you were thrown to the ground. Deafening ringing numbed the rest of your senses as you struggled under the weight of Bucky’s body, your forearms scraping against the exposed nails between the wooden boards.  
Chaos surrounded you. Once, you would have thrived upon it. You would have breathed in the rush of adrenaline and smiled – but your body was still weakened from the aftermath of the siren’s song. Your energy was drained; your precision with a blade and a bullet hazy, even if you could manage to get your hands on a weapon. There was little fight left in your body as Bucky, Jones, and Morita desperately tried to defend you from the rest of the crew.  
 Someone managed to wrangle Bucky to his knees and it was only then that you saw the blood dripping down the front of his face. Someone had struck him – enough to break his nose – and your stomach lurched at the sight. Morita and Jones followed, various cuts on his arms and snags in the fabric of their clothing from the blade of their own crewmen. A blade darted out across Bucky’s throat and your heart plummeted far beyond the wood of the ship, deep into the sinking abyss of the waters below. 
“Stop!” you shrieked, though your voice broke in the effort. You held your bloodied wrists out for the crew, panicked. Surrendering. Desperate for someone to restrain you instead. “Do what you must with me. Just leave them out of this. Please.” 
Bucky’s eyes widened. Panic lacing deep through his veins as he struggled to free himself to no avail. Lawrence stepped forward, a sickening grin curling at the edges of his mouth, and Bucky’s gaze narrowed to deadly precision.  
“You lay another fucking hand on her and I swear you to Lawrence, I’ll cut it off!” Bucky roared, caring little for the blade at his throat as it dug into his skin. Tiny speckles of blood dripped from the cuts as he fought his restraints.  
Lawrence wrapped his grimy fingers around your wrists despite the captain’s warning, his thumbs digging painfully into your wounds as he wrapped heavy metal chains where rope had once been. You winced at the friction, which only seemed to delight him.  
He turned to Bucky. “I’m doing you a favor, Captain. I’m doing all of us a favor. You'll see.” 
But Bucky only bared his teeth, his body seething with rage. Blood dripped down to his collarbone.  
With your wrists crossed in front of you, Lawrence grabbed hold of the remaining links and dragged you viciously towards the steps. The momentum forced you to follow as you stumbled over your own feet. You nearly lost your balance on the first step, but the chains dragged you along, even as you bruised your shins against the wood.  
“Get her to the plank! Quickly!” one of the unnamed crew shouted from the deck as you stepped out into the blinding heat of sunlight. You blinked through the startling brightness, trying to adjust after nearly a full day of being kept below deck.  
When you were finally able to see again, you found Dugan tied to the mast at the center of the ship. Jim and Gabe soon followed as ropes were secured around their wrists. But it was Bucky they kept restrained by his arms as they led you to the edge of the ship. They forced him to his knees with a heavy thud, resistance etched to stone in every ounce of his muscle. It took four of his men to hold him down and a blade against his throat before he finally stilled.  
You stood silently at the edge of the ship as Lawrence tied weights to your ankles. Amongst his roughened hands and the latch of metal pinching at your skin, your gaze fixed on Bucky’s. There was nothing left to be done. You’d sealed your fate the moment you dove into the water after him, exposing your song and the siren in your history to the men who were so easily threatened by your presence.  
It was foolish to believe even for a moment that you could have escaped this ending. That your life had not always been meant to end in this way. 
Your heart pounded miserably inside your chest as you held his gaze. His lips were parted, breaths heavy in his chest – he looked as though his heart might have been ripped straight through his ribs for the panic and devastation on his features had all but consumed him. You offered him a small smile, one that barely touched your eyes to simply have this one moment left with your captain – one moment of peace to hold within the kind ocean blue of his gaze. 
But Bucky would not let you go quietly. 
“You would murder one of your own?!” Bucky demanded of the crew, the effort drawing the blade over his throat. Drops of crimson bubbled from the cut on his skin. “She has been a part of this crew for years and never once laid harm to a single one of you! She was the one who sought to protect you from the sirens in the waters of the Aglaope Isles! She warned you of this coast! Does that not give you pause?” 
Several of the crew blinked, some taken back. Others, snarled their teeth – unbothered.  
“Look at her!” Bucky ordered as blood slipped down his collar. “She’s without the collar and yet she does not use the song against you! Not even to save her own life! She is not the monster you claim she is! Stop this!” 
It didn’t matter that you were depleted far beyond your ability to use the song again so soon. It should have been enough that it never once crossed your mind to do so in the years spent aboard this ship – fighting alongside this crew, eating with them, sailing with them. Even among their constant harassment and taunting. It should have been enough.  
“Our captain has been blinded by the siren’s charms!” Lawrence announced to the crew, stomping upon their doubts as if he could crumble it under the sole of his boot. “She is every bit the demons that stole our brothers from us! We will condemn this creature to an eternity in chains at the bottom of the ocean for her crimes!” 
Many still cheered.  
But not all.  
“You’ll kill her!” Bucky warned, his voice growing hoarse in his desperation. His anger quickly evolved to panic. “She’s not full blood, Lawrence! She won’t survive under the water!” 
Lawrence paused, a sinister smirk curving up at the corners of his lips. “Then it is a fitting death for a half-breed.” He turned back to the crew; one hand grasped at the chains around your wrist, the other pushed up above his head in a rallying cry. “I say we let her drown!” 
Applause broke out, sinking a dead weight in your stomach, sealing your fate. Bucky looked out to his crew and something shattered on his face – his eyes wide, his breaths coming in shallow and trembling. 
“Don’t do this,” Bucky’s strangled voice carried through the cheers. “Lawrence... please. You don't have to do this.” 
Lawrence paused, but only long enough spit at the deck. “She’s made you weak. Pathetic. I will free you of her spell and soon, Captain, you will thank me.” 
But Bucky only shook his head, an awful mixture of disbelief and agony warping its way through his features. His knees trembled, nearly giving out under him, and still, he fought against the men securing him with every ounce of strength he had left.  
You met Bucky’s frantic gaze from across the deck – his own eyes brimmed red and reflective with unshed tears under the setting sun – and in an impossible moment, you tried to convey the years of unspoken words you never had a chance to tell him. 
Your appreciation for the day he offered you a place amongst his crew.  
The pride you felt sailing under his flag – the legend of a ruthless pirate who displayed more honor than men of the crown who wore colorful pins upon the breast of their uniforms.  
The aching need to be close to him, to feel the steady pulse of his heart under your fingertips and ease the pain lingering from his wounds.  
Feelings beyond what you had ever been able to put name to; stronger that the rush of panic as Lawrence dragged you to the ledge, deeper than the ocean’s floor you’d soon find a home in. Feelings that ripped through your chest and begged for every inch of him. Feelings that rendered you foolish and reckless enough to expose your nature to the very men who would soon take your life for it. 
But there wasn’t enough time to confess any of it.  
Lawrence shoved a heavy hand to your chest and you began to stumble.  
Bucky kicked out the knee of one of the men holding him restrained in a terrible crack, creating a small opening that let him break free of their hold. They lunged for him as he dove from their reach. Sprinting. Your name a terrible, frantic plea his lips. 
Your feet left the ground, the railing digging into your spine.  
Bucky lunged for you, but a sword swung down in his path. Lawrence.  
Freefall.  
You hit the water. Enclosing around you. Cold. Ice Cold.  
And then – silence.  
You held your last breath of air deep into your lungs. It would last you longer than you should have been allowed as a human; a few extra minutes at most. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no freeing yourself of the chains as you sank deeper into the water.  
This was it. The end. The icy embrace of the waters you had called home your entire life.  
Perhaps it had always known you would return to its clutches. Even in death.  
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straywords · 15 hours ago
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Secret Ingredient
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Dark! PTA Dads! Stucky x Teacher! Reader
Summary: You take such good care of their daughter Rebecca that Bucky and Steve decide they want to take care of you too.
Warnings: NON-CON, smut, somnophilia, drugging, kidnapping, breeding kink
Word count: 6.9k
A/N: ​​@cocoamoonmalfoy helped brainstorm. Thanks!
Main Masterlist // Library 
♦ DARK. EXPLICIT. 18+. You’re responsible for the media you choose to consume ♦
Squirming beneath the scrutiny of Bucky Barnes, you tuck a stray coil behind your ear. Sending him an awkward smile, you avert your gaze, letting it wander back to the front of the gymnasium.
The reason this is likely all in your head proudly stands on stage, perorating about the benefits of parental input in matters regarding the curriculum for the next year. Steve Rogers. President of the PTA, husband to Bucky Barnes, father of an adorable six year old…and your worst nightmare as a teacher.
Everything needs to be run by him. Not a school trip can be planned, a policy implemented, an event organized without Steve Rogers’ stamp of approval. Often, it means working overtime because the blond isn’t happy with the location chosen for a field trip or even something as trivial as the font used for the baking sales’ spreadsheets and posters. He even had an opinion on the color of the walls in the kids’ learning space, arguing the original choice impeded the children’s memory, comfort and creativity.
His sway on the school, and you by extension, is undeniable. Who would dare question Captain America?
The meeting finally concludes, driving every parent to dash toward the snack table before they have to go pick up their children from daycare.
While the choice is dizzying - courtesy of how hell-bent on proving themselves a lot of moms were after accusations of buying store-bought baked goods were thrown last time - you settle on scrumptious-looking cookies the size of your hand. The very first bite causes you to melt. Is this what ascending to heaven is like? Flavors flood your mouth as your lids flutter closed. You hardly have time to cook for yourself and there’s no doubt in your mind the delicious treats are homemade. You can taste the time spent, the care doled out in every mouthful. If there weren’t so many witnesses, you’d swipe the whole tray and bring it home with you.
"I see you’re enjoying Bucky’s cookies."
Almost choking on your bite, you sputter at Steve’s abrupt appearance.
"Mr. Rogers, h-hi," you stutter, wiping the crumbs stuck on your mouth.
"You missed a bit there, sweetheart," Steve chuckles, reaching to your lips to wipe a few leftover crumbs with his thumb. Heat blooms inside your cheeks.
"Mr. Rogers, that’s…"
Inappropriate, you almost utter.
But your voice trails off, the brightness of his blue orbs and pearly smile smothering the rest of your sentence.
His gaze travels from the tray to you. "That’s Grandma Rogers’ recipe," he informs. You nod and his mouth cants lopsidedly. "Bucky spent years getting it right. Lots of burnt batches to get there. So in a way…" His deep laughter seeps through your skin. "Eating them is almost like having both me and Bucky in your mouth, sweetheart."
The cookie snags in your throat as you cough.
A large, warm hand glides over your back and you bristle. As you blink upwards, you’re faced with Bucky Barnes’ beaming features.
"Hey, take it easy doll. There’s plenty enough for everyone," he says, rubbing your back. The touch is fleeting but you’re still a little taken aback. The warmth of Bucky’s palm leaves an imprint on your back.
Shaking it off, you watch him join his husband’s side. Your stomach flips. They make a ludicrously attractive couple, Steve with his glimmering locks, the crisp white shirt he wears tight on his frame, and Bucky whose broad muscular figure and stark blue eyes stand out in the white tee and leather jacket.
Bucky shoves one of his long, brown wisps behind his ear. The rest of his hair is secured by a tie and the hint of a stubble decorates the bottom of his face.
"We wanted to thank you personally," he confesses softly.
Your eyebrows rise to your hairline.
"W-What, thank me? I thought…"
"Tell me, sweetheart, what did you think?"
That you thought I was an incompetent fool, based on your endless supply of harsh criticism. You still recall his sizzling glare the day after Rebecca came home with a bruise on her cheek. Arguing the kid fell playing hopscotch was ineffectual. You had to sit down and bear Mr. Rogers’ lecture on safety measures for over an hour. It surprised you to have kept your job this far with Steve Rogers as president of the PTA. You’ve always assumed he wanted you removed after the incident.
Nudging a diplomatic smile on your face, you reply carefully,
"Just that you thought I could do better, Mr. Rogers. You always have… so much to say."
The understatement is massive but you keep your mouth shut.
Steve studies you, long enough that you begin to fidget. He then puts his hand on his hips, his face cracking into a broad grin.
"I think there was a misunderstanding, wasn’t there, Buck?"
Bucky hums, his amused expression mirroring his husband’s, "Definitely." Bucky’s features mellow and his tone’s soft as silk when he says, "We’re grateful for everything you’re doing for our Rebecca."
As your jaw hangs open, Steve nods.
A fondness you’ve never seen before sparkles in his gaze as he speaks of his daughter. "While we love our little ladybug more than anything, we’re also aware she’s getting to that age where there are things she won’t tell us." Forlorn acceptance laces Steve’s deep timbre. "So it’s good there’s a woman in her life she can confide in when the time is right."
Bucky tilts his head.
"We’re just so happy you’re here for her, doll."
You giggle, their intensity prickling your skin.
"I mean until the end of the school year at least," you jest. You don’t teach the year above Rebecca’s. In fact, you aren’t sure about staying in this school at all. The neighborhood’s great but the power the PTA holds over every aspect of school’s life is staggering at times. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to bear that kind of pressure. The parents are… a lot to deal with.
Steve and Bucky exchange a glance at your response. A puzzled frown wrinkles your brow. Their silent conversation eludes you. Steve then announces, "We’d like to invite you to our home this weekend, for tea and cakes." Your eyes grow as Steve continues. "To maybe chat and get to know you better. It’s clear we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot."
His stare is intent. You scratch your arm, a nervous laughter escaping your mouth.
"I’m not sure…"
You’re not certain what it’s all about…another lecture? Either way, you’d rather not deal with overbearing parents on your day off.
Gnawing on your lip, your focus tumbles to the floor.
A heavy sigh ripples in the air. Bucky’s crestfallen expression greets you when you lift your gaze.
"Oh, that's a shame. Rebecca was so thrilled to hear you were coming." His shoulders slump. Steve folds his arms, his face just as gloomy as Bucky’s. "She had a whole tea party planned and even crafted those fairy wings for everyone…"
Your heart pinches. Rebecca’s a sweet kid, one of the liveliest and brightest in your class. She shouldn’t be punished because her father is so difficult.
The words spill out before you can mull them over.
"I’ll be here." You force another smile. "Can’t let those awesome fairy wings go to waste."
Both of them perk up instantly.
"We look forward to having you, doll. See you on Saturday."
As they both leave, the nervousness in your gut lingers. You try your best to quell it. Just tea and cakes at the Barnes-Rogers household; it should go swimmingly, right?
���
Tugging on your sundress, your feet bounce anxiously on the doorstep. You scowl down at the box in your hands. You hope they enjoy what you brought. The bakery you drove to is far from your house, but rumored as the best in the whole neighborhood. Bucky’s an amazing baker. You just couldn't picture bringing subpar sugary treats from the mall down the street.
Your gaze darts around as you take in the house. A white picket fence and a meticulously well-tended garden surround a gorgeous two-story home. Pleasant scents waft from the flowers aligned in perfect rows in the grass. There’s a gigantic pool near the yard and you can’t stifle your awe. This house truly sells the American dream.
As you stew in apprehension, you gasp when the door swivels open in front of you.
Bucky laughs at your stunned reaction, prying the box from your hands before you can even say anything. He looks good, the tight shirt and jeans showing off his toned physique.
A slow smile unfurls on his lips as he glances up and down at you before letting you in.
"You shouldn't have, doll. I know that place isn’t nearby for you."
"It’s totally fine, really. Just hope you guys like them honestly." Too distracted by the pristine interior, his words belatedly register. But when they do, you gape at Bucky in slight confusion. "You… know where I live?"
Before Bucky can answer, Steve barges in, sending you a big, sunny grin. "Aren’t you the sweetest thing?" he sings, lifting the lid of the box of cupcakes.
It’s when you notice their attire. You’re not sure how you didn’t catch it before. Maybe anxiety blinds you to the obvious.
"I seem a bit…underdressed."
You examine their pink, glittering fairy wings - comically small on their broad frames - the sparkly princess crowns on their heads and the wands in their hands. Clearly, they are fully embracing whatever fantasy Rebecca wants them to participate in.
"It’s a fairy princess wizard party," Steve deadpans.
"Oh," you say, nodding to match his seriousness. As a teacher, you know games and fantasies are part of a healthy childhood. Just like you suspected, while they’re a pain in your butt at school, they are great dads. It’s clear the little girl is their entire world.
Bucky readjusts his crown.
"Yes, Becks has decided she wants to be a princess, a fairy and also a wizard and we told her that obviously she can be anything she wants."
"Of course." An endeared smile tilts up your lips.
When a flurry of pink and glitter lunges at you, a smile breaks over your face.
The little six year old clings to your leg and peers up at you, her blue eyes wide and excited. Her enthusiasm at your presence is blatant.
"Miss!"
"Hey Rebecca," you greet softly. "So…a fairy princess wizard, huh?"
"I don’t want to choose. I has…tated."
"Hesitated," you gently correct. She flashes a gummy smile at you. One of her front baby teeth fell at school a few weeks ago. "And you shouldn’t have to."
She bounces up and down, her grin widening.
"It’s what Dad and Papa say too!"
She hands you a pair of cellophane bedazzled wings and a matching crown.
Rebecca is solemn as she states, "That’s your wings and crown." Her tiny brow furrows as she pouts. "There isn’t enough wands so you’ll just have to be a fairy princess."
Accepting the gift, you beam at her.
"That’s still great, Rebecca. Fairy princesses are the best…" When Steve and Bucky shake their heads behind Rebecca and her face crumples, you realize your mistake. Quickly, you add, "though not as great as fairy wizard princesses, obviously." Rebecca's face turns bright again and her dads exhale in relief. "Thanks for inviting me."
She grabs your hand and pulls you along to her room where a colorful tea set has been laid out.
As you put on your wings and crown, Bucky whispers in your ear.
"You’re lucky you weren’t here when she wanted to be a firefighter, a pirate and a dinosaur."
A wistful smile dances on Steve's plump lips.
"That was an…interesting day."
🧁
Attending Rebecca's fairy wizard princess tea party exhausts you more than you expect. There were musical teacups, wizard battles and endless chatter from the little girl.
At the first yawn you allow escape, Steve puts an end to the games, announcing the fairy court must reconvene some other time.
Steve lifts the little girl and holds her on his hip. Whenever he adresses her, his voice is at peak softness.
"Ladybug, it’s nap time."
A sullen pout bunches her features.
"But, papa, I don’t wanna…" she protests.
Steve pinches her cheek affectionately.
"I’ll tell you a story," he promises.
Her demeanor shifts, her eyes glimmering with hope as she looks at Steve.
"I want Jack and the bean."
Steve chuckles.
"Then Jack and the beanstalk it is."
Her fists pump the air in victory.
"Yes! Jack!"
Bucky's face oozes love and fondness as he soaks in the interaction. Steve carries his daughter upstairs as another yawn floats from your mouth.
Bucky's brow scrunches.
"You seem tired too."
Sitting on the sofa, you remove the wings and crown, discarding them to the side. Bucky does the same, his gaze on you unwavering.
Befuddled, you blink. Your lids are heavy with fatigue. Your limbs seem to weigh a ton.
"Yeah I…don’t know what it is. I only had that one brownie and some tea."
You tried to refuse it but Bucky insisted, arguing it was a new recipe he planned on trying out at the next bake sale. It tasted a little funny - sickly sweet - but you couldn’t muster up the nerve to tell him. He looked so ecstatic when you took a bite.
Concern drips from his dulcet pitch.
"You work hard. It makes sense you need to rest a little." He pauses as you lean backwards on the sofa. It's so soft and inviting and you could sleep right here and now. In fact, it takes everything in you to not do that right away. Bucky's voice dips, low and soothing yet louder than ever. Was he ever this close? His warm breath fans over your face. "We have a spare bedroom downstairs you can use. I’d hate to see you on the road in that state, doll."
You mumble a tired answer.
"I don’t want to impose…"
"Don’t be silly, doll. It’s your home too."
Your brow wrinkles. Did you hear Bucky correctly? You must have misheard him. As you attempt to move, your movements are sluggish.
"W-What did you just say?"
"I said you can make yourself at home."
You nod weakly. You are so tired that words pour inside your ears in a jumbled string. No way Bucky uttered what you thought you heard. It’d be ludicrous.
You slump on Bucky’s shoulder and he lays your head on his chest, wrapping his metal arm around you.
"See? You need to rest, sweetheart."
Is that…Steve? The edges of your vision are a dim blur. Yellow and blue and brown twirl in front of you as you sink down a well of oblivion.
Suddenly you’re weightless, floating. The room shifts around you and then a plush softness welcomes you. You hum absently, clutching the comforting fabric.
"Rest…"
The deep lull is muffled by the fog in your brain, disembodied, far yet close. Cool air hits your skin. A slick warmth travels up your legs. A tickle blooms from your core and grows alongs your spine. Limbs too heavy to move, you don’t fight the strange sensations.
You fall asleep with odd dreams, dreams in which you’re poked and prodded, touched and tasted. Engulfed in nebulous bliss, the darkness swallows you and you let it.
🧁
The light of dawn bathes the room when you stir awake. Groaning, you rise groggily from bed, shoving away the blanket. As you peek down, your face is set aflame. Your dress has ridden all the way up and your panties are sticky. It seems you had a wet dream. Maybe it's why you’re so sore everywhere. The press of firm hands and brush of soft lips hazily wanders through your subconscious.
You tug on your dress and smooth your tangled coils as best you can. Usually, you sleep on a silk pillow. Your hair must look frightful.
You roam about the room seeking your car keys and bag. You can’t find them. Embarrassed, you take small steps outside the room. If you could find your things in the lobby, maybe you could take your leave as discreetly as possible. You’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by spending the night here. In a neighborhood where everyone knows everyone, tongues would wag incessantly if people knew. Tantalizing smells fill the kitchen when you find your way there. The house is huge and open, brimming with light. Hiding is impossible.
Bucky’s grin is wide when he sees you.
"Hey, doll. There’s breakfast if you want some."
Rebecca jumps elatedly in her seat. "Dad’s pancakes are the best in the world!"
His fond expression falls on his daughter.
"Well, maybe not in the world…"
"In the world!" she insists.
Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he pats her head.
"Alright, ladybug, finish your plate."
The exchange stirs discomfort within you. It’s their private family time. You shouldn’t be here.
"I should go," you say, inspecting the coffee table and couch for your belongings. You even sink to your knees in case they slipped on the floor. It’s strange. You could have sworn you left them in this area yesterday.
Ignoring your frantic search, Bucky offers, "Or you could stay and eat pancakes."
Defeated, you lift your head, rising from the floor after your fruitless search.
"I’m so embarrassed. I slept the night here, didn’t I?"
"It’s okay."
Bucky pulls a chair for you but you don’t move from your spot. Shaking your head, you gnaw on your lip.
"No, it’s not. I’m your kid’s teacher, Mr. Barnes. I should-"
Big hands squeezing your shoulders halt your apology. You squeak as Steve, smelling of pine and clean soap, nudges you towards the chair Bucky pulled for you. He sits you down before you can utter a protest.
Your heart misses a beat when he leans over your shoulder to mutter near your temple, "No. You’re our guest right now, sweetheart." His hands slide down to rub your arms. It’s a bit too familiar a touch and you bristle. "Steve and Bucky will do just fine."
"Have a bite. We insist. Bucky made too much… again."
An uproarious growl rises from your stomach and both the men look at you, their lips twitching in amusement.
"Well, that speaks for itself," Bucky chuckles.
Cheeks burning, you glance down. A steaming plate of pancakes is gently dropped in front of you.
"I don’t know…"
Steve’s hands tighten on your shoulder.
His tone, while gentle, is also firm.
"Sweetheart, you take care of our ladybug. Let us take care of you for once."
Trapped between Rebecca’s hopeful expression and theirs, you sigh and ease into the chair. Steve’s hold on you only loosens when you pick up your fork.
"I guess one little pancake won’t hurt."
🧁
The following weeks are uneventful. Preparations for the bake sale are in full swing. For once, instead of criticizing your every decision, Steve is a great help. It takes the load off you, allowing you to relax. Maybe going to their house and awkwardly falling asleep there made them see you as a human being. You can’t deny how much their behavior towards you has changed. A smile blooms on Steve’s features whenever he sees you, and Bucky spoils you by leaving mouthwatering baked sweets on your desk at least twice a week. A kind message always goes with them. The latest one read "Enjoy them, doll. Though they’re not as sweet as you."
While you appreciate the nice gesture, you’re also aware you’ll need to tell him to ease off soon. Things like that may be considered bribes.
They invite you again, on two occasions, and you refuse politely. There’s already enough curious glances landing on you whenever one of them speaks to you. The last thing you need is unfounded gossip being spread about you and the two handsome supersoldiers. Besides, you can’t shake off the discomfort that trails along your spine in their presence. While logically, there’s no reason to mistrust them, you have no desire to be alone with them any time soon.
The fated day arrives and, instead of stress, relief sits inside you. The bake sale fundraiser is a smashing success thanks, in no small part, to Bucky’s amazing brownies. A decent amount should be raised then go straight to the fund for special needs children.
You moan as you bite into one of the brownies. The funny little taste yours had is gone.
"Enjoying yourself, doll? Hope these taste fine. I spent weeks tweaking the recipe."
You smile at Bucky, slowly chewing on your bite.
"I, uh…yeah, they’re great."
Bucky slants his head, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"Something wrong?"
Waving your hand dismissively, you laugh.
"No, it’s just the one you had me try tasted…very different." His expression turns serious and you rush to add, "But still good I promise."
A crooked smirk expands on his lips. "It’s because I put in a very special ingredient for you, doll."
You nod. "A special ingredient… Like cinnamon or something?"
Bucky laughs at your response. "Or something."
At the corner of your eye, you sense the scrutiny of other parents and teachers. You fall back, distancing yourself from Bucky.
A wide palm latches to your arm and you gasp.
"Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. They’re small-minded idiots."
"M-Mr. Rogers," you stammer. You lids flap rapidly, his sudden appearance confounding you, You didn’t hear him come. A deep sigh rolls up Steve’s chest.
"Call me Steve, sweetheart. I told you already." While you acquiesce, you plan on maintaining those boundaries in place. The pet names already toe a dangerous line. You shake yourself out of Steve’s grasp and the muscles in his jaw tense. Still, his smile is as bright as ever.
"We’ve missed you at home. Our ladybug too," Steve confesses, disappointment bleeding from his smooth timbre.
"I’m so sorry. I wish I could," you lie. Your voice dips to a worried whisper. "But you know how people talk in this neighborhood."
"Then, let them talk, doll. We’d love to have you in our house again."
Wiping your brow, you fan yourself with your hand. Lately, you’ve been experiencing dizzy spells, heat waves and a…neediness you can’t explain. Your vibrator’s been working overtime but even that can’t alleviate the overwhelming itch below…not completely.
"I don’t think I should," you answer, straightening your spine. The displeasure is blatant on their features but you continue firmly. "While I appreciate all your help, you guys don’t need to go out of your way. I’m just your kid’s teacher."
Their beaming smiles don’t falter.
"Sure, sweetheart. Another time maybe."
As they walk away, your shoulders sag. You didn’t like Steve’s tone and the certainty you’ll change your mind dripping from his words.
🧁
Thursday afternoon is crafts time for the little ones. All the children are busy drawing monster faces with colorful crayons on paper plates. Attentive to what each kid is doing, you amble across the classroom.
Noticing one of the kids’ gloomy expression, you approach them and hunker down to their level.
Rebecca’s silent, a small frown on her face as she sticks colored pieces of paper in her monster’s mouth to serve as jagged teeth.
"Hey, is everything okay?" you inquire gently. "You’re very quiet today." She is usually your most rambunctious kid. While she’s a lot of work, you don’t balk at it. Your heart swells with joy whenever you see happy children.
"You don’t come home anymore."
Giggling awkwardly, you choose your words with care. Children get easily attached. You don’t want to hurt Rebecca but you need to find the right words to explain.
"Rebecca, sweetie, I already have a home. So, I can’t come to yours." You pat her head in an attempt to soothe her sour mood. "I loved your tea party though. You’re right. Fairy princess wizards have the most fun."
"That’s not what Dad and Papa say. They say our home is your home too."
You freeze, tilting your head as you scoff, "What did you…"
Before you can finish, Rebecca cuts you off, "They say we’ll be one family, even bigger and happier, when you become my mom." Her face turns to yours, bright as the sun. "Papa even said I’ll get a little brother or sister soon!"
You gawk at her, your jaw dropping. As the wind is punched out of your lungs by Rebecca’s excited statement, you quakingly get to your feet.
You’ll need to have an honest talk with Rebecca’s fathers, sooner rather than later.
🧁
Friday night is a blessing when it comes. You can’t wait to kick your feet up, soak up to your chin in a scented bath and curl up on your sofa in front of a movie. It’s been a hectic week and you’ve earned it.
Most of all, you can’t rub off that peculiar exchange with Rebecca Barnes-Rogers.
As you change into pajama pants and an oversized tee, you recall the disappointment and anger coalescing on her features.
She was upset when you tried to correct her and wouldn’t accept the fact that you’re not going to be her mom. Clearly, she didn’t come to this wild conclusion on her own. Knots of concern nestle in the pit of your stomach. What kind of person would lie to their own child? It’s especially disturbing because the little girl takes her dads’ word as gospel’s truth, babbling about them being heroes to anyone who will listen. Sipping from your favorite drink, you sigh.
As much as you dread it, you will need to summon them at school for a lengthy conversation. You may even involve the headmaster to ease the dialogue. While Rebecca did nothing wrong, the situation is escalating to concerning heights. Whatever role her dads are trying to get you to fill in her life, they need to be reminded you’re just Rebecca’s teacher.
As you sink into the purple-tinged water of the bathtub, you hum, slumping backwards. You let your worries slide off you like the droplets on your skin. It’s your me time and nothing will hinder it.
Your thoughts are drifting away when a cloying scent tickles your nose. Confused, your face scrunches.
Immediately, the smell is followed by a rough sensation on your mouth, a rag stifling your screams.
Your eyes bulge. Your legs flail. Water splashes from the tub onto the bathroom floor.
Your struggle is for naught, two strong arms keeping you in place, hoisting your naked form out of the tub with frightening ease.
A silky voice breezes past your cheek, "Shh, doll. It’s okay. We’re just taking you home."
Warbled shrieks die beneath the rag, your mind slipping as your vision grows hazy.
"Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let go." The second voice is deep and imperious. Panic plummets as you go boneless. The tender glide of fingers on your face is your last conscious memory before your eyes fall shut.
🧁
You rise back to awareness with a vicious headache. As you grip your temple, you groan, scrambling around blindly on the bed…Bed? How did you find yourself on a bed? Blissfully soft yet so unfamiliar. Your fingers wander. First they dig into the plush bedding, then clutch your flimsy attire. 
Your blood curdles in horror. The sheer, blue babydoll nightgown with matching lace panties is nothing like what you’d favor in bed. You toss worried glances at your surroundings. It’s a beautiful room, wide, spacious and tastefully decorated. Artificial lights mimicking the sunlight keep the closed space luminous and inviting. The gorgeous canopy bed you’re sitting on and the wooden vanity in a corner seem plucked from an actual fairytale. But you know you aren't in one, because there’s only one door… and Bucky and Steve are standing right in front of it.
Bucky’s on you, sitting you back on the bed before you can reach the exit. It’s terrifying how little effort he has to make to subdue you, hardly breaking a sweat in the process. He crouches in front of you and your mouth quakes shut.
"Hey doll, easy. We gave you a mild sedative so you don’t hurt yourself."
As he seizes your hands, pressing circles into your palms, your stomach lurches. Why is he touching you like all of this fine and normal? You in this lavishly decorated prison, in skimpy lingerie, with just the two of them. 
None of this is fine. None of this is normal.
As the shock his words elicit trickles inside you, you shriek, "A sedative? Are you…what the fuck is wrong with you two?"
A large, stern hand drapes over the back of your neck, the pressure strong enough to snap your bones if he chooses. You inhale tremulously as Steve plops down next to you on the bed, his hold on you firm. A warning dwells in his gaze. You go still, winter blowing through your veins.
"Hey, language, sweetheart," he commands gravelly, squeezing just enough. "We won’t tolerate our sweet girl talking like this. You get one strike. Am I clear?"
Trembling from head to toe, you nod. Steve’s features relax, his palm lowering to massage the area between your shoulder blades. With Bucky in front of you and Steve next to you, crowding your space and thoughts, you find it hard to breathe. Air rushes in and out of your lungs in chaotic bursts.
"I don’t understand why I’m here, dressed… like this," you quaver, tears swelling in your eyes.
Steve cradles your face, planting a tender kiss at the corner of your trembling lips. Bile climbs up your throat.
"What you’re doing here? Well isn’t it obvious, sweetheart? I think you know exactly what you’re doing here."
Sick expectation for your haunting new reality to hit you dances in Steve’s cerulean orbs. His mouth quirks upwards. A strangled sob tumbles out of you.
"You can’t do this," you whimper.
Bucky’s hands rove over your thighs, a velvety hum rising up his chest. You catch the lustful flare in his eyes, mirroring Steve. A lump grows in your throat. An empathetic sigh peals off Bucky’s lips.
"We can and we are. It’s happening whether you like it or not, doll."
The thought of "it" makes your stomach sink.
"You’re gonna keep me here forever? You’re gonna-" The truth catches in your throat, too awful to be uttered. Your tone turns pathetic, pleading. Hopefully you can appeal to a drop of common sense amongst the well of their insanity. "Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear."
Bucky’s thumbs draw circles in your soft skin.
"Of course, you won’t stay there forever, doll. When you behave…" His lips skim over your gooseflesh. When he flashes you a benign smile, your chest tightens. "You can come up, be a part of our beautiful family."
When you behave…
How long have they been planning this? Your focus bounces between them. The same hope illuminates their features. Thick tears roll over your cheeks. Steve wipes them before his hand settles on your back.
"Sweetheart, you don’t understand. Bucky and I have mulled over expanding our family for over a year now." Their fingers twine over your thigh. "At first, we were gonna go for a surrogate, but then… you came along. And you were so perfect." There isn’t an ounce of regret in his baritone. Nausea sweeps over you as he speaks. "So perfect, I had to test your limits, see how far I could push you…and you never broke."
You release a trembling exhale, stuck in disbelief. So all those times Steve terrorized you and made your job difficult, it was all some kind of twisted test?
Humming low in his chest, Steve strokes your hair.
"Your patience, your sweetness, that pretty little face, that delicious, perfect body." He nuzzles the crook of your neck, the scorching brush of his plump lips sending a shiver straight to your spine. "You’ll make a perfect mother for Rebecca… and all our other children."
Your pulse quickens. "Other…children?" you squawk, the pitch of your voice rising in horror.
"Rebecca already adores you. It’s perfect," Bucky says.
You tense at his words. Perfect? A scream unfurls from your gut, radiating through your cells, but it gets swallowed by the abrupt, urgent press of Steve’s mouth over yours. Teeth scrape your lips and hands roam over you. You melt beneath his feverish attentions, the itch in your core growing and growing. Steve mumbles against your lips, "Like we’ve told you sweetheart, we plan on expanding our family. And it’s best to start now."
Alarm bells ring in your head with his daunting announcement. You punch and kick and scratch every part of them within your reach. Pity crosses their features as they watch you struggle. Fighting against them is like smashing glass at a brick wall.
As Steve nudges you down on the sheets, Bucky parts your thighs. "No, please. I don’t want this," you beseech.
Lingering, biting kisses are scattered over your inner thighs, Bucky’s mouth and tongue leaving fiery trails over your skin. His metal fingers crawl to your center and when you attempt to close your thighs, panic leaping inside you, he keeps you spread and wide with ease.
Bucky chuckles, seemingly amused by your futile resistance.
"Your body already knows us, doll," he rasps, his fingertips teasing your clothed core. Your clit pulsates torturously beneath his cool metal finger as it swirls against your entrance. "It’ll be nothing we haven’t done before. You’ll just be awake this time."
Your chin wobbles, your eyes widening with his reveal. Adrenaline pumps inside your veins. Your heart hammers unevenly in your chest.
"When I came to your house, you-" You choke on your breath and a satisfied grin unfolds over Steve’s face.
"You were such a good girl for us," he purrs, massaging your breasts through the silk of the nightgown. You moan, your nipples pebbling under his calloused fingertips. "All those cute sounds you made." Steve’s half-lidded gaze tarries on your squirming frame. His smile broadens. "Just like now." His teeth graze your shoulder. "It was hard not going all night…but we didn’t want to break our sweet girl the first time."
Bucky’s tongue joins his finger, caressing your soaked folds through the lace. Your mind spirals. Your hips curve, your core weeping as Bucky’s mouth glides over it. He licks you again, slow and deep and you wail. Your teeth bury in your lip.
"I…Please…"
Doubt lurks at the misty borders of your lust-addled mind. What are you begging for? You’re not sure. Freedom or release. Dreadful denial or disgraceful delight. Mercilessly tugged by threads of pleasure, your mind is at war with itself. Despite the tears glistening in your eyes, your body keens to their ardent touches. As fire blooms beneath every glide of their tongue and brush of their hands, confusion engulfs you.
"I see you enjoyed my sweet little treats, doll," Bucky croons. Your heart drops at the implication laced in his lewd pitch. There was something, something in every cupcake and brownie, something to make you pliant and desperately needy. "I bet you’re so wet down there already." You gasp when Bucky pulls your panties aside with one finger, his growl rippling through the room at the sight of your sinfully wet cunt. "Hm, you really are. Look at that, Stevie."
Steve licks his lips, a spark of mischief dancing in his orbs.
"Such a pretty little pussy, and all ours to play with."
Coils tighten in your belly as Bucky sinks one finger between your folds. He dips in and out of you at a steady pace. Chewing on your lip, you keen. Bucky’s digit twirls inside you, sweeping over your softness and twisting when you squeal. As warm, delicious tingles bloom across your flesh, your chest heaves, your back arching on its own. If it weren’t for Steve at your back, his beard scratching your jaw, you’d fall limply backwards.
"We’re gonna take our time and make you feel so good, sweetheart," Steve murmurs against your ear shell. While one of his hands kneads your breast, his other roams over your hip. "You don’t have to worry about that silly job anymore, or other people’s children. From now on, you’ll only take care of our children…" Steve groans, his throbbing, hard length poking the base of your spine. He laughs - that deep, warm sound that sickens you - when you flinch. "And us of course."
Your chest trembles as they remove their clothes. There isn’t an inch of them that isn’t chiseled to perfection, yet their nakedness sends a rush of fear through your veins. It makes it all too real. Especially when your gaze strays between their taut thighs to find them already huge and erect. You swallow nervously.
Bucky doesn’t waste time, nestling himself between your thighs again to finish what he started. Your stomach clenches as he sinks two fingers inside you. The delightful friction of the metal against your walls slowly drives you to lustful madness.
Steve doesn’t relent either. His mouth drapes over yours to steal your lips in a possessive, sloppy kiss. He hums against your mouth, each whimper and protest melting against his avid tongue. His hands are everywhere, slipping beneath the nightgown and pulling it down to free your tits. You mewl. Bucky’s flesh fingers dig into your flesh, holding you in place as you writhe against the silk sheets. Slow, aching flames gnaw at your flesh. You pant, overwhelmed, heart pounding as if it might burst out of your chest.
A violent shudder bolts through your body as Bucky sucks your swollen bud between his lips. His tongue traces frantic circles that have your hips undulating. When your legs quake and your head toss, the tight coils snapping inside you, he drinks your arousal like the most delectable liquor.
"Even sweeter than before," Bucky praises. His thick dark lashes brush over his cheekbones when he purrs, his tongue darting to collect your arousal off his lips.
"Let me have a taste, honey," Steve whispers, grabbing Bucky’s hand to lick you off his husband’s fingers, slick with your pleasure. A deep moan unfurls from Steve’s chest, his own eyes fluttering shut as a grin blooms over his mouth. "Hm, just perfect. Delicate, soft, sweet." His hungry leer flickers down to your heaving frame. "Like you sweetheart."
Bucky drops a kiss over Steve’s shoulder, his fingers carding through his blonde locks. His lips twist upwards lopsidedly.
"It’s only fair you have her first this time, Stevie."
They shift, switching places so Steve can kneel between your thighs. He raises them, keeping them firmly on his hips. He grabs your ankle, peppering heated pecks on your foot, leg and lingering on your inner thigh. Steve’s nostrils flare as he pumps his cock, his pupils swelling when he stares at your quivering cunt.
He pushes inside you slowly, basking in the sight of your folds swallowing his thick girth. "Look how well you take me, sweetheart. This is where you belong." You whine, your thoughts sluggish and jumbled as Steve stretches you. Every inch of him sends a wicked blend of pleasure and pain cascading through your limbs. The muscular planes of Steve’s chest ripple as he moans. "I could stay inside you all day, sweetheart."
He fucks you slow and deep, until you’re a crying, begging mess. Your fists clutch the sheets as your hips snap to meet his thrusts.
"No…"
Bucky chuckles, pushing your damp coils away from your face.
"Come on, doll. Your pussy is crying to be filled."
Soft words of praise mingle with the wet squelching filling the room. As Steve shoves himself inside you relentlessly, Bucky strokes your face.
"You’re gonna look amazing, plump and round with our children, doll."
Steve wraps your legs around his tapered waist, the new angle allowing his tip to press against your sweet spot. You clench around him and he grunts, a gravelly sound erupting from him. Sweat beads over Steve’s brow, dripping down his neck and his toned chest. You tremble as the bed squeaks and jostles beneath you.
Time turns irrelevant as they both take you as many times as they want.
Pleasure veers on pain, your body weary from the ceaseless succession of blinding orgasms. Your vision blurs, a strangled gasp spilling out of you as Steve’s hips stutter against your pelvis again. He pulls out of you with a raspy sigh, his cock still half-hard. 
Bucky pushes their spent back inside you with his thumb as the stickiness leaks past your swollen folds. Humming, he runs his hand up and down his cock. You weep as he nudges his flushed, throbbing tip against your entrance. As your lids sag, he wrenches your chin with his metal hand, squeezing hard enough to bring you back to consciousness.
His thumb skims over your quaking lip. You peer up at Bucky with tearful eyes pleading mercy. But he kisses you long and deep before sinking inside you in one, swift thrust.
"Come on, doll. We’re nowhere near done," he says, his pace rising furiously. Bucky chuckles as you whine, your head lolling against Steve’s bare chest. "We have to make sure it sticks."
Brushing his knuckles against your cheek, Steve drops a sweet kiss on your forehead. He keeps your thighs spread for Bucky as he drives himself in and out of you.
"Let’s make a baby, sweetheart," he chimes with a bright smile.
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oceanbucky · a day ago
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𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐛.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
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pairing — best friend!bucky barnes x reader (modern au) (best friends to lovers)
summary — after breaking up with your cheating ex, you’re left with two tickets to greece. you continue with the trip and oh, bucky’s coming along with you. what could go wrong? 
warnings — 18+, nsfw content in later chapters, angst, mentions of cheating, lots of fluff, best friend!bucky, slow burn, mutual pining, best friends to lovers trope, 
author’s note — hi sweetie, welcome to my first series masterlist!! i’m really excited about this because its my first attempt at writing a series, i hope it doesn’t flop! thank you for stopping by! 
series playlist
last updated — 22nd may 2022
tags are open for this series, send me an ask or fill in the taglist form (link in bio) if you’d like to be tagged!
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chapter 1
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buckies-dolle · 2 days ago
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Jealous dilf Bucky 🥴🥴
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Ok see when I hear dilf!bucky my mind instantly goes to dbf!bucky, like he just hanging with your dad and you get all dolled up to go on a date and he does not like that.
“Bye guys see you later!” You shouted as you walked out the door.
“Honey wait, Bucky can drop you up if you like, maybe then you can have a drink. You took a deep breath in before responding “yeah ok, that would be great, thank you Mr. Barnes” l
Bucky leads you out to his car and begins driving but he stops just in a corner near your house. “Mr. Barnes is everything okay?”
He leans his hand over and grabs onto your cheeks aggressively, he drops his other hand to your thighs and spreads your legs out, your skirt riding up to your hips, revealing you lace covered crotch. “what my name baby?”
“Mr Barnes” you whimper out before crying out loud when he lays a light slap down on your pussy
“Once again, what’s my name”
“Bucky?” you question, he shakes his head before slapping you again, you covering your moan with a cough.
He squeezes your cheeks a bit harder and grits his teeth “what’s slap my slap name slap“
“Daddy!” You cry out as you feel you arousal leak through your panties. “Good girl” he whispers as he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit through you panties.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and fuck me instead of going on that dumb date”
“Yes daddy” you moan as your hips buck up. Bucky pushes the back of his chair back and grasps onto your hips, pulling you over his crotch. “Go on take Daddy’s cock out” you quickly scramble and unbuckle his pants, pulling his cock out as he messaged your boob. “Do you wanna ride daddy’s cock”
“Yes please” you practically growled at him. He grasped onto your hips and gently pushed your panties aside and lined you up before letting you sink down in your own time. As you went down you fell flat onto Bucky’s chest, before he sat you back up and pushed you down a little. Once you bottomed out you dragged yourself back up and stared bounce.
“Such a tight pussy” Bucky moaned as his hand fell to your clit and started rubbing in tight circles. “Daddy! You feel so big!”
“Much better then that dumb little date of your huh?”
“So much better, no one else but you”
And that’s all Bucky needed to hear
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bonky-n-steeb · 19 hours ago
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I dream that I taught tfatws!bucky all the nice things what people do in this century.. like thigh riding, daddy-kinks, being tied up/blind folded, degrading and praising, cock-warming, kinky sex etc. And boyy he wanted to do all of it in thst moment with me/to me 👁👄👁
“Is this what people write about me?” Your head turned away from the buzzing tv when Bucky chirped up. The tower was fairly empty except for the two of you. And it wasn’t new for him to come with you with questions as you’d become his unofficial guide into this modern world.
“What?” You were a bit confused with his sudden question. He turns his photo towards you and it takes a moment for the words shining on the screen to seep into your head. You nervously gulp as you realise it’s a smutty fanfic about him.
How should I explain this now?
“It’s a.. a fanfiction.. like uh…” you splutter about your words but Bucky just shakes his head. “Yeah I searched up what it meant on the internet. I mean I’m flattered they write about me. It’s interesting for sure. But I don’t even know what half of these words mean. What’s cock warming? Is it something related to chickens?”
“Bucky.. I… it’s…I umm…” your entire body became warm and Bucky held back a chuckle as you stuttered with embarrassment. Of course he knew what that meant. He just wanted to see you getting all flustered.
“If it’s so difficult to explain, why don’t you just show me?” Your jaw fell open as you stared with disbelieving eyes at Bucky. On the other hand, he was loving the look of utter shock on your face. Yeah, it was gonna be a fun night.
a/n: should I write this as one shot? 👀
JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!!
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barnesafterglow · 2 days ago
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start over
summary: when a mission goes wrong, you're determined to give bucky a piece of your mind. until you actually see him
pairing: bucky x avenger!reader
word count: 1.3k
warnings: explicit language, mention of injury/tending to wound, enemies to lovers-ish, bucky and reader are both kinda jerks tbh
a/n: here is day 3 of my sweet summer writing challenge with the prompt “you’re so fucking annoying! and- wait, are you hurt?”. i hope y'all like this, feedback is always appreciated!
main masterlist ─ challenge masterlist  i no longer have a taglist, but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on post notifications to get fic updates! 🤍
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Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you. That is, if you didn’t kill him first.
Everyone was in a sour mood as you shuffled off the quinjet - the effects of a mission gone wrong lasting even after the three hour ride home - but more than anyone, the anger was radiating off of you in waves.
You intended to give Bucky a piece of your mind the second you were out of earshot of anyone else - you at least had the decency not to rip him a new one in front of the entire team, including Peter who practically idolized him - but Fury called for an immediate debrief.
So you seethed the entire time, not even relenting when Wanda tried to send a wave of calm over you. Maybe you could have calmed down if Bucky hadn’t decided to skip the debrief entirely, instead leaving Fury to pin the blame of the mission’s failure on you.
If he had just fucking listened to you, then nothing would have gone sideways. But of course, the first time Steve lets you run lead on a mission, Bucky decides it’s in his best interest to go off script in the worst of fucking ways, ending in the spectaular show of tackling you out of the way of a civilian.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Fury dismissed you with that ever-disappointed stare of his, and you stormed out, heading straight for Bucky’s floor.
As each level of the elevator ticked up, your anger continued to bloom, until you were practically seeing red by the time you were stopped in front of his door. You knocked - more liked banged - against it and waited with your arms crossed until it cracked open.
Stepping in, you were shocked to see how barren the space was. No pictures or personal articles, the only thing that even signified it belonged to Bucky was a battered notebook that you recognized as the one Steve got him for Christmas a few years before. The lights were dim and you could barely make out the shape of Bucky’s bare back facing towards you on his bed.
“Come to blame everything on me?” he huffed through what sounded like gritted teeth, which only pissed you off more, because who was he to be mad, when he was the reason everything got so fucked in the first place.
“Real fucking bold coming from the guy who -”
“Steve never should have let you lead on a mission like this. You don’t have the background experience, and it almost went entirely to shit,” he interrupted, as if your words meant nothing to him.
“Almost went to shit? I don’t know if you noticed, but some of us came out of there with more than just scrapes and bruises.” You stopped, becoming increasingly agitated at the fact that he couldn’t even bother to look at you while you were having a conversation, so you stepped around his bed until you were at his side. “You’re so fucking annoying! You could at least face me while - wait, are you hurt?”
Even in the dim light, you could make out the wound on his side, wrapped in seeping red gauze. A bullet wound, if you had to guess.
“That civilian you kept going on about to Wanda, during the flight back? An undercover agent. Which you would have known if you had actually paid attention during the briefing instead of preening that Steve had bestowed upon you the great responsibility of leading your friends into the line of fire.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and you were both hurt and ashamed that he thought of you as someone who only cared about status.
“No, I-,” you stopped, trying to think back to the briefing, and you couldn’t remember that guy’s face in any part of the file. 
“You have no sense of self preservation, Y/N. That’s your problem. You walk into situations as if you’re untouchable, and it fucking kills me.” He gestured towards you with his right arm, and winced as the motion pulled at the fresh wound.
“If you’re gonna be a dick, at least let me stitch you up,” you said, moving closer. He reluctantly let you settle onto the bed beside him, grimacing silently as you pulled the soaked bandage off and dabbed at it with alcohol from the med kit he had laid out. Something else you hadn’t noticed - apparently that was a pattern for you. “Why do you care about my lack of self preservation anyways?”
You tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, not meeting Bucky’s stare as you threaded the needle. For two people that claimed to hate each other, the tension in the room was thick in a way it never had been in the times you’d butted heads before.
“Because, contrary to popular belief, I do care about you,” his words were barely a whisper, but you could hear them perfectly clear even over the heavy thudding of your heart. You didn’t say anything, quickly looping a couple of stitches through the wound and tying them off. Thankfully, it was only a graze, and it would probably be gone in a handful of hours without the stitches, but you needed something to occupy your hands.
You had just taped a new patch of gauze in place when his own hand caught yours - cool metal on the balmy heat of your skin - and you finally met his eyes for the first time since you had walked into the room.
“I don’t know how we started off on such a bad foot. I think I got jealous over the way everyone talked about you - you were like the cool new kid, and I knew I was never that. I thought they were just kissing your ass. But then you got here and you were just as amazing as everyone said you were. I wanted to hate you, but I just couldn’t, so I pushed you away instead.” He took a shuddering breath before he continued. “And today, when Steve asked you to lead, I had this awful mixture of jealousy and pride. Because I knew you had earned it and that somehow just pissed me off even more. I took my feelings out on you - have been taking my feelings out on you, and I shouldn’t have.”
“What about the agent? The one you said I missed in the brief.” Your words were watery, and you couldn’t pinpoint which emotion was causing the tears to press against your eyes.
“It was a footnote, not even a picture. I only knew because of a mission Sam and I wrapped up a few weeks ago.”
You wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. You wanted to tell him that you felt the exact same way - that everyone sung the praises of Bucky Barnes even when you were a standard SHIELD agent, long before you were ever asked to be a part of the Avengers. The two of you had been dancing around each other unnecessarily for years now, and you couldn’t believe it took you all this long to figure it out. But you didn’t get to say any of that, not yet anyways, because Bucky kept talking.
“Maybe this is shitty of me to say, but maybe we can start over? Or we can pretend this never happened and go back to pretending to hate each other. Up to you.”
You did laugh then, because there was the oh-so-charming Bucky everyone had told you about. He smiled then, one so beautiful and almost hurtful - because it had never been directed at you before.
“Yeah, Buck. I think we can start over.”
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natbarnes1917 · a day ago
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She’s Gonna F**king Kill Me
Pairing: Bucky/Female Reader
18+ Only.
Third entry for my new smutty one shot collection! All scenes come from my OC story Figure My Heart Out and can be read separately or as a continuous story.  The next few one shots are all Christmas themed because they are from the Christmas chapters of my story. So happy Christmas in May!
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Word count: 4K
Summary: Your friends, Sam and Yelena are visiting you and Bucky for Christmas! Bucky’s sex drive doesn’t appreciate the intrusion though, and you teach him a lesson in patience. 
Need to know: Fluff and Smut. Dom Bucky in the beginning but Sub Bucky for the majority of the story. Slightly rough sex (dom Bucky). Orgasm denial, edging, public sex, handjobs, blowjobs, toy use, prostate stimulation. I’m probably forgetting stuff, let me know. I could have made this one shot 10k words honestly. 
Please do not copy or post this anywhere.
Feedback is always welcome :)
It had been weeks since Bucky had last felt your warmth wrapped around him. Long torturous weeks since he had been able to slip inside your tight body. Okay, Sam and Yelena had only been staying at his apartment for the past few days, but it felt like weeks to Bucky. At first, he had welcomed the surprise intrusion into his privacy; he had enjoyed their company in his own way. Laughing along with you all until he was drained and had to sneak away for some peace. Eventually, you would come find him nestled in the bedroom with a book in his hands and drag him back to the living room. He didn’t quite understand why he had to be there; he rarely participated in the conversation—but then he realized you just wanted his presence. You wanted to sit in his lap and play with his hair and watch him smile. And how could he possibly deny you that?
But now–as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched you dressing for the day–he wanted your friends gone.
“Bucky, I can feel you staring at my ass. We can’t.”
“Can we just kick them out then?”
“You know I want to as much as you, but no. We can last a few more days without sex, right?”
Bucky scoffed, and you giggled.
You stopped getting ready, dressed in just your robe as you went to sit next to him. “So, if you and Sam are going out today, don’t you think I should give you my Christmas list now?”
Bucky pulled you into his lap and gave you a stern look. “Have you been nice, doll?”
You bit back a laugh and played along, looking up at him through your thick lashes. “Oh no, I’ve been very, very naughty.”
“Hmmm,” Bucky ran his fingertips lightly over your thigh, moving your thin robe out of the way. “How naughty?”
You licked your lips as he looked down on you, his eyes smoldering. “Well, my boyfriend likes to get me into trouble.”
“Oh, he does?”
You nodded, watching Bucky’s jaw clench just slightly.
You knew you should stop this, it was going too far. You shifted your hips, chills shooting up your spine when you felt how hard Bucky was already. It was too late. 
Bucky gripped your hips, holding you still. “What were you saying about that boyfriend, doll?” Bucky teased.
You swallowed hard as his hand slipped under your robe. His fingers toyed with the thin string around your hips, pulling it up, down, rubbing it between his fingers, but never attempting to pull the fabric down your thighs like you wanted.
“I can’t resist him,” you whispered, moving one hand up to play with his hair. “He has the sweetest puppy dog eyes, and he makes me want to cuddle with him on a cold day, but then he takes his shirt off, and he has all these big muscles, and I just want to drop to my knees and swallow his big fat co—"
You giggled as Bucky kissed you needily. “I wasn’t done.”
“I got the picture,” Bucky huffed against your lips as he frantically undid his belt with one hand while his other blindly searched for the condoms.
“Lucky for you,” Bucky pushed your robe apart and roughly shoved his throbbing cock into you. “Naughty girls get the best presents.” His gravelly whisper was both a promise and a threat in your ear.  
“Fuck!” You yelped at the sudden pain of him stretching you out. “Fucking hell—Bucky, move,” you begged, eyes wide with lust.
Bucky covered your mouth with his hand, pulled out, and slammed back in; his only focus was on getting you off.
“Be quiet for me, okay, doll?”
You nodded and whimpered as he took his hand off your mouth. He lifted your hips and drilled the blunt tip of his cock into your sweet spot over and over again until you couldn’t contain the shout of his name.
Bucky slapped your thigh and shushed you; you looked like you were on the verge of tears. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut as he tried not to come; he wanted to give you as many as possible first—but as you let out a particularly pornographic moan and begged him to fill you up, he settled on just giving you one for the moment.
“Doll—’m not—not gonna last. Need ya to come for me,” Bucky groaned and quickly circled your clit with his thumb.
He was barely holding himself back as your thighs started to shake around his waist and your pussy clenched him like a vice as you came.
“Fuck—so tight, can’t even move, doll—" Bucky buried his face in your neck as you rode out your high on his throbbing dick.
As you came down and found your voice, you grabbed Bucky’s hair and lifted him up to meet your eyes. “Wanna feel you fill me up, baby,” you whispered hoarsely.
Bucky almost came right then—it wasn’t going to take him long. He pulled out of you and flipped you over. He left the condom on, knowing you were speaking figuratively. You arched your back for him, and he groaned as he started to slide back into your tight heat.
“Hey!” Yelena’s voice yelled from behind your closed bedroom door as she banged her fist on the wood. “Are you done?! We’re trying to eat breakfast out here!”
“Fuck,” Bucky muttered as you quickly sat up and made yourself somewhat decent.
“Go away! We’re busy!” Bucky pulled you back toward him as you tried to slide off the bed. “No, no, I’m not done with you,” he whispered to you.
“Buck—" You looked toward the door again as Yelena banged on it. “She’s not gonna go away.”
“Sam won’t let me go back to the kitchen until you stop. Plus, we’ve got to go anyway. We’re late. If you don’t open the door, I’ll just let myself in.”
Bucky growled in annoyance as you slid off the bed and went to the door. You opened it just enough for Yelena to see your face.
“I’m very close to kicking you both out, so please go away, and I’ll get dressed.”
Yelena rolled her eyes. “Hurry up.”
You closed the door and, to Bucky’s disappointment, went to the closet instead of back to the bed.
“Doll, just real quick—" Bucky pressed up against you as you pulled a pair of pants on. “I’ll be fast—I was so close anyway.”
You pulled a shirt over your head and turned around in his arms. “I’m sorry, Buck. But she’s right; if we don’t get to the salon on time—I had to pull a lot of strings to get us appointments so last minute.” You pecked him on the lips and went to the bathroom to put your hair up.
“Doll,” Bucky whined.
“I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay?”
Bucky sighed as he pulled his boxers back on. “Yeah, okay,” he said grumpily, joining you in the bathroom. “I’ll take care of this on my own for now.”
“No.” You quickly turned and slipped your hand into his boxers, stroking him tight and fast.
Bucky groaned and backed you up against the sink, his hands gripping the counter tightly. It’s not what he wanted, but in his current state, he would take anything he could get.
“No, you leave this for me,” You lifted his chin to make him look at you. “I’ll take care of it later.” You kissed his cheek and pulled your hand away.
All Bucky could do was whine and pout; his cock absolutely ached; he had almost come in your hand just then—you were being cruel.
“You gonna be a good boy?” You cooed.
“God—ye—yes,” Bucky stuttered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the counter even tighter.
You kissed him with a pleased smile on your face. “See you later, baby.”
Bucky watched you leave, his cock throbbing in frustration. As soon as you were out of the room, he stuffed his hand down his pants and pumped himself quickly—he could still smell your pussy, taste your lips—he was so close to coming over his fist. He groaned as he pulled his hand away at the last second, his cock throbbing uselessly in the confines of his boxers.
He took a cold shower, but his super-soldier dick still stood stiff and proud, leaking precum everywhere. He felt a little calmer, though, and got dressed before finding his phone and texting you.
“When will you be back?”
You sent a laughing emoji. “I left 15 mins ago.”
Bucky sent back a sad face. “Miss u, love u. Have fun.”
“Love you. Behave.”
Bucky sighed and left the room before he could start touching himself again; he had to find a distraction.
**
Bucky twitched anxiously every time you even looked at him; you were chattering away as if you didn’t know he was rock hard—and had been for hours.
You and Yelena had returned home about an hour ago, both of your hands full of bags–all yours. 
Bucky waited patiently for you to hold up your end of the deal, but you didn’t.
He was staring at your ass as you bent over the table to adjust a falling gumdrop on Yelena’s gingerbread house.
“Does that sound good, baby?”
“Huh?” Bucky snapped out of his trance and frowned slightly at the glint in your eyes.
“Yelena and Sam have never been on one of those carriage rides. Do you wanna go?”
Bucky didn’t want to go–he wanted you to send them away so he could finally get what he actually wanted.
“Yeah, sure.”
Bucky’s stomach twisted in desire when he saw the smirk on your face at his concession–you knew exactly what you were doing.
She’s gonna fucking kill me, Bucky thought.  
**
You and Bucky were settled in your horse-drawn carriage; Sam and Yelena were a few feet ahead. The carriage walls were high and long to shield you from the wind, and you had brought blankets along to keep everyone warm.
You knew Bucky was extremely on edge–his hands were balled into fists, and you weren’t even touching him yet. You caressed his thigh, and he turned to you with the most desperate look in his eyes.
“Were you a good boy for me?” You asked in a sultry voice that made him whine.
He nodded frantically. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Need you.”
“I’m right here.” Your hand moved higher under the blanket and just sat there, burning a hole through his jeans.
“Please,” he whined. “Need you to touch me—to make me come—please.”
Your hand slid over his crotch, and you heard the sharp intake of air as he tried not to react. You moved your hand with more pressure but slower, and he groaned lowly.
“Touch you like this, baby?” You asked sweetly.
“Yes, but—" Bucky groaned louder as your hand sped up. “Can we—go—oh—go back home?” He rushed the last few words out before biting his lip to hold in his moan.
“Thought you wanted me to make you come?” You undid his pants quickly and shoved your hand inside.
“Oh god, not here.” Despite his protests, Bucky spread his legs further apart under the blanket. He dipped his head back, breathing hard, as you pushed him closer and closer to his orgasm.
You sucked the sweet spot on his neck and moved your hand with the sole purpose of making him come.
“Doll—please stop,” he huffed out, thrusting his hips into your hand.
“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop.”
Bucky shuddered as your warm tongue trailed over his neck. The adrenaline pumping through his veins every time the carriage passed a group of people wasn’t helping his situation.
“I’m—I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, please!”
“It’s okay, baby, just pretend you’re filling up my tight little cunt,” You whispered as you sucked his earlobe into your mouth.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Bucky couldn’t stop picturing that. His brain was no longer working as his hips chased the orgasm his body so desperately needed.
You giggled and kissed his flushed neck as you pulled your hand away. Bucky looked at you like he was about to cry, his chest heaving rapidly. “Please,” he said brokenly.
“Soon.”
You called for the driver’s attention and asked him to take you back. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief when you exited the carriage and headed back home.
“So, I got Sam and Yelena tickets to see the Rockettes tonight–”
Your sentence was cut off as Bucky picked you up and threw you on his back as he ran through the park. He hailed the first taxi he saw, and you were home before Sam and Yelena even realized you had left.
Bucky pushed you up against the door, already pulling your clothes off.
“Bucky—slow down.”
“No,” Bucky groaned. “I’m so fuckin’ hard—can’t wait anymore.”
You pushed him away. “You said you were gonna be good for me.”
Bucky followed you like a puppy to the bedroom and frowned when you picked up your shopping bags off the floor. “Doll, please, please, I’m dying over here.”
You ignored him as you took items out of your bags, all clothes and one small black box. “Strip and lay on the bed.”
Bucky quickly did what you said, looking at the sleek black item in your hand with curiosity. He laid against the headboard, his abs tight and his cock leaking precum all over his stomach.
“I got you something if you want to try it.” You knelt next to him on the bed.
“What is it?” Bucky was already twitching with excitement as you poured lube over the toy.
You pushed a button, and the toy vibrated in your hand—Bucky’s hips involuntarily flexed.
“Think you can handle that?” You asked as you started prepping him with your fingers.
“I—fuck—I don’t know.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut, wanting so badly to feel the toy inside him but so close to losing control just from your fingers.
“Tell me if it’s too much; I just want you to feel good, kay?”
Bucky nodded, watching you slowly slide the toy inside him. He groaned when it was fully settled, nuzzling right against his prostate.
You got off the bed and dangled the remote in his face. “Touch yourself for me, baby. But no coming until I say.”  
You made him watch you try on all the clothes you had bought, keeping the vibration against his prostate low. His hand moved slowly over his cock until he couldn’t handle it anymore, begging you for release. But all you gave him was the mercy of turning the toy off until he could start again.
He was trying so hard to be good, but as you got to the last bag, he was squirming and grinding into his hand. He could smell how wet you were—you were enjoying this maybe more than you should be.
You came back out of the bathroom, and he whimpered as he thrust faster into his hand. A tiny red skirt with a white fur trim fluttered around your hips, only highlighting the little piece of lace between your legs. A big red bow covered your breasts.
“What do you think?” You twirled for him before climbing onto the bed and sitting between his legs.
“Please,” he muttered as his eyes admired every curve and line of your body.  
You leaned forward and moved his hands out of the way. “You’ve been so good, baby,” you whispered as you wrapped your delicate hand around his shaft.
“I have—please, wanna come,” Bucky sighed as you turned the toy up and worked your hands over his cock.
“I’m gonna let you come.”
Bucky relaxed at the promise, letting you build him up.
“One more thing.” You left the bed and came back with a red silk ribbon. “Give me your hands.”
Bucky didn’t hesitate; he held his hands out, and you quickly tied them together.
“Is this okay?” You placed gentle kisses on each of his wrists.
“I’m okay,” Bucky assured you. He’d never done anything like this, and part of him was surprised at how much it turned him on.
“Does that feel good?” You asked as you stretched his arms above his head and attached his tied hands to the headboard.
“Ye–yes,” Bucky stuttered.
“What’s your color, baby?” You settled between his legs again.
“Green, very green.” Bucky flexed his muscles, testing the restraints.
You took a moment to admire him, his muscles taut and glistening as he tried to regulate his breathing. Of course, he could easily get out of your restraints, but that just made it so much hotter—he was allowing you to do this to him—trusted you enough to allow it, to want it.
“So sexy, Buck. I’ve been so wet for you all day.” You leaned forward and gently sucked the tip of his dick, your tongue kitten licking him.
Bucky couldn’t speak; only desperate moans would come out of his mouth.
You kept your mouth on his tip only as your hand worked the rest of his shaft. You could feel him swell in your hand and knew he was getting close. You slid your mouth down a little further and moaned at the broken whine that left his mouth.
“I’m gonna come—don’t stop.” Bucky managed to get out between moans as the plates in his vibranium arm whirred with the effort to keep his hands where they were.
You pulled your mouth off and slowed down your hand. “You wanna come in my mouth or my pussy?”
Bucky groaned and threw his head back. “I—I don’t know, please!”
You turned off the toy and pulled a condom out of the bedside table drawer, slowly rolling it onto his red cock.
“Yes, yes, yes, please,” Bucky panted as you straddled him and teased the tip of his dick at your dripping entrance.
You slowly sank down on him, letting yourself feel every inch of him. “So big, Bucky. You feel so good,” you moaned.
His fingernails dug harshly into his palm. He was about to come, and he needed it more than he needed air.
“Gonna come, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he sighed as he bottomed out in you. “So fucking tight. Move doll,” he groaned.  
Ignoring his begging, you leaned forward, keeping him stuffed inside you, and kissed him. You traced his bow-shaped lips with the tip of your tongue, making him groan when you bit his plush bottom lip. How was it possible for someone to have such a pretty mouth?
“You been thinking about filling me up all day?”
Bucky nodded. “Please, please! I—oh fuck I’m right there, doll, please.” His eyes were screwed shut in frustration. He wanted to scream—he was finally buried in your warm, velvety walls; his balls were heavy and tight in anticipation of the orgasm that was seconds away—and you wouldn’t fucking move.
“So hot when you beg—beg a little more, baby, and I’ll let you fill my teasing little pussy with all that hot cum.” You reached back and gently squeezed his balls to punctuate your sentence.
Bucky shouted nonsense as he squirmed underneath you.
“Use your words, Buck.” You drug your fingernails down his chest, just hard enough to leave light red marks.
“Please! I’ll do whatever you want—need you so bad—been going fucking crazy since this morning.” Bucky groaned when you still didn’t move. “Please, I’ve been so good—I wanted to come so bad when you were gone.”
“Did you touch yourself?” You grabbed the remote and teased your finger over the button, smirking when Bucky’s cock twitched inside you.
“Yes,” Bucky sighed, his arm whirring again as he fought the urge to break free and take what he needed from you. “I—I—fuck doll, let me come!” Bucky’s dominant side started to seep through as he practically growled the words out.
Unamused with his outburst, you leaned back, resting your hands on his trembling thighs. The position put you even more on display for him. His eyes raked down your body, starting with the displeased frown on your face, pausing briefly on your chest, wrapped up like a gift from God, down your stomach, over your soft hips—he squeezed his eyes shut when he caught sight of the space where you were joined together, afraid the view alone would send him over the edge.
“Open your eyes,” You snapped, just barely rolling your hips. “Look at how perfectly you fit inside me.”
“I can’t,” Bucky groaned when you moved your hips again. “I’m gonna come,” he whispered with a slight tremble.
“No, you’re not. Only good boys get to come.”
Bucky’s eyes flew open; he was about to argue but swallowed it. You wanted his submission. And fuck, he would give you whatever you wanted.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please.”
“Do what I told you.”
Bucky reluctantly dragged his eyes down to the lacy thong shoved to the side, making room for his thick cock to stretch you out. You lifted your hips just enough for him to see the base of his cock, drenched in your juices.
Bucky couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes again, straining against his restraints. “I’m sorry, it’s too much! I can’t fucking think about anything but pounding into your pussy until my cum is dripping down your thighs.”
“Fuck, Bucky,” You moaned, your body clenching on reflex. “Gonna make my good boy come, kay?” You started bouncing yourself on him hard and fast.
Bucky grunted as he lifted his hips, meeting you with every thrust. “Thank you, oh please,” Bucky’s face screwed up in pleasure as he thrust up into you. “Oh please, don’t stop. Please, please, gonna come.” Bucky didn’t realize he was shouting as he begged you for his release.
You were nearly as wound up as he was, and looking down at him—every muscle in his colossal body flexing—begging you for his release was too much for you to take.
You moaned his name as you reached your peak. “Come, baby, fill me up.”
The combination of you turning the vibration on the highest setting and your walls fluttering around him was it for Bucky. He broke the tie around his wrists and dug his fingers into your hips hard as his cock twitched wildly inside you. No sound came out of his mouth as he came. The pleasure was too much; all he could do was hold your hips flush against his as he let rope after rope of cum fill the condom.
As he came down, he groaned, “god damn, I can’t feel my legs. That was so—so,” Bucky lost his train of thought; his eyes were slightly unfocused as he stared up at you.  
You giggled and kissed his lips. “Glad you liked it—it was hot as hell.”
Bucky’s chest was still heaving; he couldn't form more words. His hands roamed over your body. Once he caught his breath, he sat up to kiss you properly.
“You definitely owe me more than one orgasm after that.” Bucky grabbed the end of the bow around your chest with his teeth and pulled it off.
“We’ve got two hours,” You sighed, pushing Bucky’s head closer as his teeth grazed over your nipple. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you come again.”
Bucky groaned and laid back on the bed, ready to submit to you as many times as you asked.
Sunshine Masterlist
My Masterlist
Every reblog and comment encourages me to continue to write and post this filth.
taglist (I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m tagging just a few mutuals 💛 if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!): @shamelessfangirl-3 @thenhewaswrongaboutme @buckmepapi @summerofsnowflakes @geeky-politics-46 @delaber @captainsimagines @becca-e-barnes @caplanbuckybarnes @bitterqueenofhearts  @healanette​ 
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urashotofexpresso · 9 hours ago
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matilda by harry styles are for the ones who can’t reciprocate love because they don’t know how to. for the people who care more about grades than anything else even though they’re burnt out to a crisp. for the ones who are unintentionally the problem. the ones who love too much and get nothing in return. the ones who need a hug from their comfort characters. the ones who love the night time because it’s when they can truly be alone and be themselves. the ones who try to do something for them self but just get laughed/scolded at. the ones who joke about their pain to cope with it. the ones that just want everything to be okay.
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pellucid-constellations · 2 days ago
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A Correspondence of Obligation - Eight
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Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)
Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.
Word count: 6k
Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff, cannon-level violence, a very distraught protective bucky (sorry!)
a/n: I appreciate feedback so much, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading ♡♡
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
~~
You painted him often. 
In the morning, when you got to see the way the rays reflected upon the planes of his face and lit him up. Gentle. Ethereal. With no rush or concern for the time of day because it was simply the beginning. 
In the afternoon—quick brushstrokes, always in a hurry. The colors were purple and blue and red. They were blurred together to replicate the way his lips felt as he passed you in the corridors and sought you out after meetings. Images of the afternoon were more abstract and less cohesive; they were how you felt after the brief rendezvous you were granted during busy days. 
In the night. In the night… starlight was the easiest to paint, but only because of him. Rippling waters and branches weighed down by the moon; boots lost in knee high grass and layers of your gown lost in the heat of the balmy air. You painted him most at night, even when he could be found nowhere on the canvas. 
And he must have been able to tell, because with each painting you showed him, he kissed you just a little bit harder. He would let his eyes trail over each of your decisions, the brushstrokes touched by light reflecting off of spun glass, and he would smile at you as if you had given him some gift he could never repay. As if he hadn’t been the one to give you the tools and the joy to create such things. 
You wished he would take a step back and see the truth behind your paintings—the love. 
There were occasions where you almost said it out loud; every time the words fell from his lips first, or in instances where the laughs escaping you were so attached to the feeling that to not tell him you loved him seemed an impossible feat. 
But you didn’t—hadn’t yet. And you wanted to, so bad. 
You wanted to watch the way his eyes would widen and feel the pads of his fingers as he brushed them against your face. You knew he would laugh and that it would be so breathless that the sound would drift past your ears and melt into you, warm you. You wanted him to kiss you, feeling loved. 
You were waiting for the perfect time. 
You wished you had just said it sooner. 
~~
“I won’t be in the room with you, I have to train the squires with the knighting so close. But the prince will be beside you the entire time, and Steve will be there as well. I asked him—” 
“Natasha.” 
“—to be sure to keep an eye on you. Of course, he agreed. Was rather annoying about it actually.” Your lady-in-waiting ripped the brush through your hair with an unrelenting flick of her wrist. “He said ‘well obviously, Natasha. She is my family after all’. As if I was some dimwit. I swear—” 
“Natasha, please.” 
“—he acts as if I’m being overbearing. Like you weren’t just tossed about in some forest and held hostage. I want to strangle him sometimes—” 
You twisted in the plush armchair, removing the brush from her grip with raised brows. She snapped her mouth closed and pressed her lips together as you turned back around and met her eyes in the mirror. 
“Ow,” you remarked, reaching up to instead hand her the flowers she planned on weaving into your small headpiece. “I wanted to leave my hair attached to my head for this luncheon, but if you have something else in mind, please let me know.” 
Natasha grimaced, sheepishly taking a more delicate approach to your look. “I’m sorry. You know I get carried away when I’m worried.” 
You sighed, sending her a smile in the mirror that she replicated with an unsure look. There was no need for her to be as worried as she was; this lunch was a simple one. There would be local diplomats and noblemen and some of the more prominent shop owners from the kingdom. It was your gentle reintroduction to court, paired with small sandwiches and chilled tea. It wasn’t as if you were going to faint from overexertion; you had been clear of bed rest for well over a month. 
Not that Natasha cared, with all of her mother hen tendencies. 
“Natasha, you know better than most that the prince would have me out of the room if he even presumed I was uncomfortable,” you assured. “Between the two of you, I’m surprised I’m allowed to converse with anyone that hasn’t gone through some inspection.” 
She sent you a pointed look. “You watched yourself get dragged up from the ground with a knife at your back and then get back to me.” 
Guilt bloomed within you, making you bite at your lower lip to keep from blurting out an apology; she had chastised you for as much several times since the attack. Still, it was hard not to find blame when your friends were plagued with so much worry. 
“Well, with all of the training I’ve been doing, I’m sure something like that won’t happen again.” 
Natasha set your hair into place and leaned down, squeezing your shoulder as she smirked, “Your training with me is beneficial. Not so sure about the time you spend on the grounds with the prince, however.” 
Heat crept up your neck at her teasing, embarrassment battling with the pride you felt at your progress. It had only taken about three weeks of healing for Natasha to agree to train you again. You’d gotten quite proficient in the bow since then, but Steve loved to remind you that that statement only applied when the targets were stationary. You also loved to remind Steve that you would have the power to banish him in just a few weeks. 
That usually shut him up, but not before all of his laughing got you ten extra push ups from Natasha. Steve’s teasing was getting you into immaculate shape. 
Getting Bucky to agree to take you to the training grounds took a bit more persuasion, but after many pleas and multiple promises to take it easy, you were able to show him everything Natasha had taught you. For about ten minutes. 
Every time you found yourself “training” with Bucky, that was how long the productiveness lasted—ten minutes. Not that you were complaining; spending an hour outside with Bucky, the smell of fresh grass bright in the temperate air, was priceless. It meant no eyes and no responsibilities, and it meant freedom, even for a little while. 
Well—it meant no eyes until Natasha came down to ensure the troops were taking their break at the appropriate time.
“Tell me how to do it again, once more.” 
“Bucky, you are being facetious. You know how to string a bow.”
“I truly have forgotten, princess. Once more, for my benefit.” 
You giggled, the sound rustling the branches of cherry blossom trees as the wind followed close behind. You pretended to glare at him, squinting in the sun and catching the slightest hint of his spiced citrus past the floral breeze. The pants you had on braved the weather, but your hair was not so lucky. 
“You are such a terrible liar,” you accused. The bow in your hand swayed as your arm did. 
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted, stepping forward to slip the wood from your fingers. “A truth, then—I do know how to string a bow.” 
“See!” 
“But I much prefer to listen to you explain it.” He dropped the bow, hand coming below your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “And I do love watching the way your mouth forms the words.” 
You let out a shaky breath, speechless at being so close even though you had kissed him countless times before. He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together but refusing your lips the feel of his own; you’d have to work for that, it seemed. 
“Are you going to teach me then, my love?” 
A breath in. A pass of your tongue across your bottom lip. “You should first hold the riser straight to ensure that your bow is the right fit for you.” 
Bucky hummed, eyes never leaving your lips as you spoke. His hands came down to press your hips forward, seeking as much contact as he could find. 
“You should—you should hook the bottom loop of the string around the bottom of the bow.” 
“How will I know it’s the bottom?” he breathed, lips brushing yours as he spoke. Your stomach burned at the contact. His grip tightened on your hips. 
“Shorter…” you began, the rest of your sentence lost somewhere between Bucky’s lips and the corner of your mouth. But he urged you to go on, nudging his nose to yours. “Shorter finger guards should be on top.” 
“And then what?” 
You were sure this was some kind of torture; he was teasing you, pressing his lips to your cheeks and your jaw. And all you could do was try not to melt in his arms and recite the steps to some arbitrary thing. Truthfully, it wasn’t arbitrary, but right now, everything other than him felt as if it was. 
Bucky took your brief pause as a forgetful stint, sliding one of his hands up your back until it cupped the back of your neck. 
“Where should you step after the bottom is strung, darling?” he whispered. 
“Through… through the bow and string while—”
His lips tasted like sweet rose water and lemons and laughter. He kissed you and put you out of your misery, halting your poor excuse for a lesson with urgency and pressing desire. And you kissed back with just as much fervor, hands coming up to rest against the stubble of his cheeks. 
But that wasn’t enough—it never was. So Bucky brought a hand between your shoulder blades and lowered you down until grass tickled at your neck and made the air sweeter. He encased your head with his arms until even that was bothering him as well, one hand coming down to grip your waist as you laid in the grass. 
He kissed you harder until a smile was found between lips. Until you were both breathless but neither of you had any intentions of pulling away. You were about two seconds from pushing him into the grass—an act that surely would have shocked him—when the sound of a clearing throat shot you out of your adrenaline. 
“Your Highnesses.” Natasha’s amused tone had you pushing a reluctant Bucky into the grass after all, but for an entirely different reason. 
“Natasha!” you greeted, dusting yourself off as you stood. “I was just—I was just showing the prince how I am with the bow.”
Natasha threw her gaze over to the very disheveled prince, still unapologetically in the grass and smiling up at her. She raised a brow at him, gave a small nod in greeting, and then turned back to you with a smirk.
“That looked to be exactly what you were doing.” 
The burn in your cheeks and up your neck increased as you remembered the afternoon that followed that day, all of the questions and remarks as Natasha readied you for bed. But you would take them all over again if it meant that the lightness Bucky gave you would linger as it did that day. The love was worth all of the teasing. 
“I don’t know, Natasha,” you called out as she sorted through your jewelry. “Maybe I have become advanced and you just don’t know it because you’ve been spending all your time with those squires.” 
She fitted pearls around your neck as she scoffed. “It is more likely that the prince appointed me as their trainer so that he could have more time making you ‘advanced’ in place of me.” 
You rolled your eyes with a smile, pushing out of the chair and rounding its back to grab Natasha’s hands in both of yours. She narrowed her eyes, but that was vastly overshadowed by the smile that played at her lips. You gave her fingers a small squeeze, one she reciprocated with ease. 
“Thank you, Natalia, truly,” you spoke lowly, her name from childhood thick in your voice. “You’ve gotten me through so much. Through everything.” 
She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek and looking to the ceiling in feigned nonchalance. But you knew what it really meant; you were seconds away from doing the same yourself. 
“Are you about to ask me to hide you away in the woods again?” she jested, voice heavy with an unshed happiness.
The laugh you shared with her echoed to your windows, filling your room with a sound that would have been frowned upon back in Hyland. But you weren’t in Hyland anymore, and you never would be. 
Natasha spoke again. “I would do much more than teach you how to shoot a bow.” 
You bit your lip, ready to tear up and throw her into a hug, when a knock at your door stopped you in your tracks. 
“Time for your fancy lunch then,” she said, drawing out the words with a playful brow. 
She got the hug anyway, and maybe a few tears. 
On the other side of the door was a patient Steve, his hands held behind his back as he tried to make conversation with Sir William at his post. Your guard was obviously disinterested in the small talk, his face impassive and his words monotone, but you were there soon enough to save him from your cousin. 
Steve looked dashing, as usual; an embodiment of spring with his light features and healthy glow. His blonde hair looked vibrant as it slipped past his forehead, just a tad bit overgrown. His smile was bright as you greeted him and took his arm in the hall. 
 “Are you excited?” he beamed, nudging you slightly as you walked to the dayroom. 
You sent him a confused smile. “For lunch? I mean, sure, but I would much rather prefer something intimate.” 
“No, not lunch,” he rolled his eyes. “For the wedding. It’s almost here. Buck won’t shut up about it.” 
Your grip on Steve’s arm tightened, nerves and elation twisting within your chest. Just a fortnight and you would be married. Everything would be official and you would be queen, but more than that, you would be Bucky’s.
The thought used to scare you; the idea of belonging to a man you didn’t know was so heinous before, but that was because of expectations forced upon you from childhood. In truth, you weren’t going to belong to Bucky. On paper, the law would proclaim you did; there was no way to escape such a system in your current position. But Bucky would never act upon his power. In his mind, the thought would be nonexistent. 
Your nerves, instead, sprouted from the title you would gain from your union, not from Bucky. 
When Steve bent his neck to inspect your pregnant pause, you were quick to formulate an answer. “Of course I’m excited,” you whispered. The ocean to the west crashed beyond the arches you passed. “This land is vast and plentiful. I am grateful to be its queen.” 
Steve let out a humorless laugh. “What a lovely, trained, answer.” His tone was accusing as he stopped you in front of the ornate doors of the dayroom. “Tell me the truth, y/n. Before we go in there and you have to use all those words that Lady Austeen ingrained in that big head of yours.” 
You slapped his chest with a scoff. “You are rude. And nosy.” 
“I only worry about you. As does Natasha, although you seem to answer her questions more willingly.” 
“She doesn’t insult me when she asks them!” 
Steve’s smile was soft as he raised a brow. “Insulting you is part of my job description.” 
Glasses clinked and violins created a gentle song just beyond the doors, and you took a breath, enjoying the simple comfort of family before having to greet so many others. Your dress swayed as you shifted your weight between your feet, the green silk shimmering and delicately draping at your shoulders.
“Sometimes… I just worry that being queen will be too much for me. I’m not ruthless. I won’t kiss another’s betrothed for my own benefit. And you saw what it did to my mother. If I am not able to withstand the pressure, it won’t just be myself I let down.” 
The playfulness on Steve’s face sobered up quickly, leaving behind a sincere expression and hands that rested on your shoulders. His “father look”, you liked to call it, and he did it quite well. 
“Hey, there’s no law in place that states you need to be brutal to be a leader. There’s respect in kindness. These people—they already love you. They aren’t looking for a malicious queen to take over regions. If you haven’t noticed, that’s not going so well for Sharon.” Steve paused, squeezing your shoulders as he took a breath. “And your mother… there are things we still don’t know, things we will never be told. The king was so secretive and unfair to you, but you have to know that you won’t end up like your mother. Bucky would never let that happen. I would never let that happen.” 
There was an ugly truth hidden behind Steve’s words. You were so young when your mother died, and that left any questions about her thwarted and banned. You never got to learn what illness had taken her, or why your father took it so hard. All you had were the remnants of your court and the rules that followed her as she passed. 
You’d be lying if you said her death had no connection to your nerves; being queen was a heavy weight to bear, and you had little example to go off of. 
But you had Bucky now, and you had Brookshire. Things would be different. 
Steve’s eyes were stuck flitting between yours as you finally spoke. “I know you wouldn’t,” you smiled, easing the tension in the hall. “You’re too headstrong to let me wither away.” 
He huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to your hair, jerking his head to the door and letting you straighten yourself out before entering the room. Bucky spotted you immediately, putting an end to whatever conversation had him tied up by the balcony. 
His grin was terribly endearing as he carded his fingers through his hair and met you at the doors. He placed a hand on the small of your back and kissed your cheek, clapping Steve on the shoulder with the firm grip of his right hand. 
“Steve,” he greeted, eyes shining. “Thanks for escorting her. The noblemen never leave my side at these things.” 
Steve returned the prince’s gesture and parted after a few fond exchanges, heading straight for the refreshment table where he was greeted by shop owners and plenty of conversation. You smiled as you watched him, relishing in Bucky’s touch as he dragged it up and down your spine. His lips back on your cheek had you finally turning to greet him, a perfect picture of comfort settled onto his face. 
“Hello, my love.”
You couldn’t hide your smile as you exchanged your own greeting, and you suddenly found it rather annoying that you were in a room full of people. Your cousin’s boisterous laugh reminded you of such, and you were spouting off the question that had been running through your mind during your walk in the hall. 
“Why did Steven escort me here? I know where the dayroom is well enough.” 
Bucky knocked his head back in feigned regret. “You caught me,” he groaned. “I asked him to. I wanted to make sure you were… warmed up—so to speak—for the questions all these men might ask.” 
“Oh? So you are the reason I had to endure such a serious conversation before my first ‘no pressure’ appearance in court?” you teased. 
He bit into his bottom lip when you cocked your head to the side, both accusing and grateful. It had been some time since you were last grilled by the people of the kingdom, and getting all of your nerves out with Steve instead of one of the nobles was preferable. 
“Is our marriage such a serious conversation, darling?” 
You laughed and shook your head, the response lost on your lips as a stocky man with dark hair cleared his throat. You turned away from Bucky, but the prince was sure to leave his hand pressed to your back. 
“I am sorry to interrupt, Your Highnesses,” he apologized, a slight bend in his waist as he bowed. 
Bucky was quick to interrupt. “It’s not a problem at all, Wong. Allow me to introduce you. Princess, this is Wong, library and archive manager in Brookshire. Wong, this is my princess—” 
“Surely I know who your princess is by now, Your Highness. In fact, with all of her art gracing the halls of the library, we might as well give the building her namesake.” 
You gaped—completely improper given the company—and blinked up at Bucky. Your art? Why on earth would anything you made leave this castle, let alone be hung in public places? Bucky looked down at you with an unsure smile, his fingers now fidgeting with the material of your dress. 
You snapped your gaze back to Wong. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize—” 
“Oh, please, princess, do not take my comment the wrong way. We love your art. The library was so dull before—all stuffy and beige. Every time the prince brings one of your works we spend the evening clearing off a spot on the wall. The students love it.” 
“Thank you,” you breathed, still too shocked to form anything coherent. 
“No, thank you. That is why I came by this afternoon, to thank you. Well… I also wanted to wish you well. I heard there is still no word on the people that attacked you. The town just outside the castle was devastated when we were told what happened. And so close to your wedding as well.” 
There it was—another ugly truth. After weeks of questioning, it became extremely clear that Roger, one of the lesser mercenaries that had attacked you, knew nothing of the people that employed him. He knew that he was employed, but that was about the extent of it. 
You had caught Bucky tugging at his hair one too many times to assume any better outcome had arisen, and it wasn’t too long ago that he finally admitted the truth to you. It had taken a lot of coaxing, but the words had echoed in your brain for the remainder of that night. 
We have no idea who wants you. No idea. I won’t lock you up in this castle but it is eating away at me, princess. 
You hadn’t slept well that night. Bucky hadn’t either. The both of you spent hours on his balcony instead, mapping out stars in a warm breeze, wrapped in each other and trying to forget. 
But it was always looming there, and now it was front and center once again. 
“Thank you, Wong,” Bucky covered for you, your silence incredibly loud. “The search is still out.” 
“It was nice to meet you,” you managed, calling out before he could part. Wong presented you with another bow and a smile, this one a touch more strained. 
“I wish he hadn’t brought that up,” Bucky murmured, voice turned down to you. 
You pressed a hand to the lapel of his jacket, smoothing it out and trying to redirect. “Which part? The attack, or the fact that Brookshire apparently has so many of my paintings that they are about to rename a library in my honor?” 
Bucky cringed for a moment, closing his eyes as a breeze passed through the dayroom. The violins were still in full swing in the corner, the sandwiches still towered high upon trays and the tea still fresh with ice. You had hardly made your way around the room, but the atmosphere was still lovely where you stood. 
“Are you truly angry about that, princess?” Bucky finally got out, sliding his gaze to you as you smiled at a group of diplomats passing by. “Because I really only sought to show the world your talent. You would have been satisfied keeping all of those works piled up in your paint room and the library had requested art. The kingdom appreciates beauty, and to have their queen—” 
“Can you show me?” 
Bucky paused. “I’m sorry?” 
“The library,” you clarified. “Can you show me?” 
The violins picked up, livening the room and causing every conversation to get louder; almost imperceptibly, but it was still there. You could see Wong close to the group of strings, talking animatedly with his hands to get his point across. 
“I’m sure I could have that arranged, darling. We haven’t left the castle since—” 
“—since the attack,” you finished. You turned to face him fully, grabbing his forearm with hopeful eyes. “Let’s go see the library. It’s just beyond the castle, isn’t it?” 
It would be the perfect place. In a room surrounded by variations of him—in the morning, the afternoon, the night—all carried by his hands and brought out to show the world. Because he was proud of you. Because he loved you. 
Your wedding was just weeks away, and you hadn’t said it back. 
It would be the perfect place. 
“Now?” Bucky emphasized, looking around the room as a roaring laugh boomed from an archway. One of the trays clanked against a crystallized glass bowl, the sound resonating against the walls. 
“Now, Bucky. Please,” you pleaded. 
His resolve dissipated the second you looked up at him like that, your fingers tugging at his sleeve with impatience. You could tell by the way his face softened; by the way he covered your hand with his own, the warmth combating the excitement rushing through you. This would be the perfect time, the perfect day, the perfect place. 
“Darling, we are in a room full of our court. We can’t just leave.” 
You ignored the spark you felt from the word our. “This is the perfect time to leave. No one expects us anywhere else, and since Wong, no one has come within ten feet of us. They are all too busy discussing matters of their farms and their shops. We are simply ornaments at this point.” 
Bucky seemed to weigh his options carefully as a heavy wave crashed beyond the walls. A seagull cried as well, but it was hard to hear over the music. You could only make out the end of its call. 
“Okay, yes. Fine,” he conceded, quick words spoken against your cheek as he kissed it and expertly ushered you to the door. “But I’ll have to meet you at the stables. We can’t leave at the same time.” 
You nodded your head enthusiastically when your back met the door. He glanced over his shoulder to survey the room, but only Steve seemed to notice your not-so-subtle getaway, his head shaking fondly as he listened to shop owners continue on. Your giggle was met with Bucky’s hand on your stomach, gently pushing you through the door. 
“Okay, go! I love you, go,” he whispered, and then you were a joyful mess in the hall. 
You brought your hand up and pressed your fingers to your mouth, taming your smile before heading down to the stables. It was nearly impossible; with the lightness in your gait, your dress trailing at the tops of your feet with a gentle ease, it would be so easy to spot your unrelenting emotions.  
But it didn’t matter. Everyone in the court could see the happiness coming off of you in waves and you wouldn’t care. 
Only they didn’t see; no one saw, because no one was in the hall. There were no guards at your door when you passed it, no visitors of the court bowing to you by balconies or archways. No staff could be found going in and out of rooms and no children ran beyond their mothers’ skirts. 
There was no one. It was…eerie. 
A loud boom startled you out of the stupor you had fallen into, finally getting your feet to move. You had stopped by the kitchens, a far cry from the stables. But the boom was the least of your worries, because the horns started. 
Blaring and incessant and close; the horns sounded off from the towers stacked on top of you, and you knew what they meant.
Find a guard. Run. Do anything other than stand in one place and get yourself killed. 
Your feet made the decision for you before your mind could, sending you hurtling back to the dayroom, back to Bucky. Footsteps could be heard in the distance now, and you weren’t sure if the heavy boots sounded like Brookshire’s guard, or if they meant something else. 
The guard. It had to be the guard, because your mind couldn’t fathom anything else. 
Breathing got harder the faster you ran, panic stealing what little air you could take in. You needed to get to Bucky; Natasha was too far away on the training grounds. But Natasha was out in the open as well, leaving her exposed to so many possible attacks. Now your mind was reeling as your body struggled, and there wasn’t enough adrenaline in the world to tame both. 
You rounded a corner as you heard it. 
“Princess! Princess, please. Where are you?” 
You opened your mouth to scream back at him, when the sound was muffled by leather. A leather palm, leather fingers; the same leather wrapping around your middle and dragging your thrashing body away. You kicked and let out unheard words until the sun was dimmed, and you were in a space between walls. 
Whoever this was knew the castle well. 
Whoever this was didn’t let you go as they dragged you through the tunnels you didn’t know existed. 
You couldn’t hear Bucky anymore. You could barely hear the horns. 
“This is going to be real easy for you if you just shut up and get in the carriage, got it, princess?” 
Their voice was deep and gravely, thick with an accent you didn’t recognize. You thrashed again in their arms, unrelenting even though it just made them tighten their hold. A tutting in your ear made you recoil.
“They told me you weren’t going to be easy.” 
Light assaulted your eyes as the wall gave way to some back entrance of the castle. They must get deliveries here; it was hidden, shrouded with ugly twigs and snarling vines. The scene made you feel ill. You were one step closer to being taken, the same position you were in just weeks ago. How had it come to this so quickly? How had the perfect image if your afternoon been ripped to shreds so suddenly? 
You didn’t have time for questions, only actions. You jutted your elbow out to meet your captor’s stomach, taking them by surprise as they doubled over. Their hand came next, your grip coming up to twist their wrist until they released your mouth as well. You could hear their annoyed hiss as you ran to the wall, hands skimming over every stone. 
Where was the way back in? The gated entrance to wherever this was impossible to reach unless you wanted this man to chase you, and he would certainly win. Each stone set another weight in your stomach as you passed it with shaking fingers, trying so desperately to find what he had. 
He recovered before you had the chance to cry in frustration, the cruel grip back around your body.
“Stop!” you screamed, hands reaching out to the cold stone. “Please, we’ll give you more than whatever they have. Anything you want.” 
His chuckle was dark. “I’m not getting paid for this. Consider it loyalty.” 
The carriage came into view then, its less than polished exterior blurred by your tears. Your captor kicked at your heels when you dug your feet in the ground, and an amused sound came from the back of his throat at your effort. 
But the carriage was nothing compared to what came next, Bucky’s form being dragged up by two men sending you into a panic. 
“Not him! Just me, you don’t need to take him,” you pleaded. The sound of your voice made the prince’s seething remarks toward the men halt, his head snapping to you with an unmatched speed. 
The man at your back sounded annoyed, almost letting out a yawn as he said, “We are not allowed to hurt the prince… unfortunately. He just gets to watch. Direct orders.” 
Bucky yanked away from the men to avail, his eyes wild as he marked every point in which the man held your body.
“Let her go or I swear to god I’ll—” 
“You’ll what?” the man on his right taunted, pulling him back just to show him he could. “You’ll nothing. Be thankful you even get to see her leave.” 
Yelling from a top floor of the castle erupted, and a small spark of hope shot through you. It was quickly put out when your feet were moving again, dragging you into the dilapidated carriage long before anyone could make it down the many castle steps. 
Bucky’s voice came out broken as he promised, “I’ll find you, y/n. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 
His words were so different from the ones he had shared in the hall, just moments ago. 
Okay, go! I love you, go!
You’d remember those, wherever you went—the laughter and the lightness, and Bucky without his voice coated in tears. 
“Look at me, my love. I beg of you.” You hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed. You opened them to find you were passing him. “I love you,” he said, his cheeks glistening. “I love you and you’re going to be okay, alright? I’m going to find you. I won’t rest until your back home.” 
And maybe it was because of the possibility that you’d never see him again. Maybe it was because of the heavy tears making tracks down both of your faces. Maybe it was just the pain blooming along your arm where the man held you that made you say it. 
Either way, the I love you that fell from your lips sounded nothing like it had in your daydreams. 
Bucky thrashed against the men even harder, stringing curses and threats as your head was shoved into the nondescript cab. He promised death and pain and everything you knew he could deliver, if he only had the freedom to do so. 
“You bastards,” he choked out, the anger lost to pain. “If you hurt her I will hunt you down and make you wish you were dead. Don’t touch her!” 
The horses shook when his screaming stopped, but that only made your tears fall even harder. 
The man sitting across from you rattled the carriage and simply scoffed. “We didn’t kill him. God, are you royals always so dramatic? Feels like this in every court.” 
The horns started up again, and you could hear yelling past the creek of a rusty gate—footsteps marching with a heavy haste. But you were past anyone’s eyesight, and with the prince unconscious on the ground, he would take precedence. 
That was fine. All you could focus on was the man’s last few words as you stared down at the ripped emerald green on your thigh. 
In every court. 
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nexusnyx · 2 days ago
Note
hi! i love your writing so much! idk if you’ve done something like this before, but could i request a bucky x reader imagine where the reader is really high maintenance? if not, that’s okay! xx
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: He knows that when he takes his girl out, not forgetting his wallet is important. There are many things his baby is—sweet, witty, smart-mouthed, a little bit of a freak; among the big list he's compiled so far, 'cheap' is nowhere to be found. It takes a lot to keep her happy. Bucky loves the challenge.
A/n: Feedback is really important to me. Tell me what you think and I'll adore ya forever :)
Word count: 3.1k
Warning(s): This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. I also do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded anywhere else.
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Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist
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There were many surprises in re-adapting to life in the 21st century with a mind of his own, free to do whatever he wanted, search for and make the life he never could in the past, and, of course, create his own reasons to be happy, have his sense of self back.
One of the things he did not include or expect to be on that list: getting used to designer brand luxury stores.
What could he say?
Sgt. Bucky Barnes' girl was not a cheap date. Never had been, and if he had his way, never would be.
She was one of those people who were not born into wealth but still were born with a sense of self-worth which made them richer than a lot of others in life.
Y/n never gave her time to people who never earned it, she cultivated friendships of a lifetime and had the maturity to surround herself with people who were true to what they wanted just like her; the beauty of her confidence exuded in every pore of her being, and it was what attracted him towards her in the first place.
She also enjoyed fine things.
Which was okay—there was the desire for money (stupid) and the desire for good things (reasonable) and when the latter existed and the person didn't turn into someone else in order to get what they wanted, Bucky couldn't see a problem with liking extravaganze.
Bucky always thought fondly of how his first time truly flirting with her went.
"With a mouth like that and answers like these, I could think you're trying to flirt with me."
"Trying? Sergeant, if I was flirting with you, you'd know."
"I—Really? Wow. All the times you flicked your hair at me, you were just playing with my heart, then?"
"Never did that either. I think you are trying to flirt with me, Sergeant Barnes."
Bucky laughed.
"Outch—is the thought of it that funny to you?"
"Oh, no. Not that. I am definitely flirting with you. I just thought it was funny you trying to deny you were looking specifically for my attention those times when you love rolling your tongue around Sergeant Barnes that damn much, y'know?"
"D'you always speak to your work colleagues this up close or...?"
"I don't know, d'you always talk to yours while focusing so much on their lips? ... Ah. There it is. I got those cheeks pink once and I thought it was just a fluke, but I think I got it. See—the way I see it, Mrs. Y/l/n, we could be doing this flirting elsewhere. Like on a date, or... on a date? Or. Instead, you could tell me again about how I'm wasting my time here because you are 'not flirting with me'."
"... Could we?"
"Why not?"
"Well. All this time you've been 'flirting' with me—"
"I do not appreciate the air quotes."
"Stop smiling at me like that, I'm trying to focus here."
Bucky wanted to kiss her there and then. He stopped himself, and bit down on his smile.
"Continue."
"As I was saying, all this time you've been 'flirting' with me, you let out that a) 'this generation', aka people my age, tend to annoy you with their 'silly' hobbies, and I'm not sure which one of mine would fall into that category and a) said you don't like going out and doing 'fun' things is overrated, and... While I appreciate the frown and adore the sexy smolder it's attached to it... I'd need a little more than that."
"... You're right. It's—hard. For me, still, to just... let my guard down."
"I can see that."
"I'm trying, though..."
"I can see that, too."
"Good. So—if I showed you I meant it, maybe you could tell me about your hobbies? I'd keep my old brain very open to all of them. I—you're a really smart, funny, and witty woman, Y/n. Beautiful as the icing on it all. I... would love to try. If you want me to."
The smile you gave him then sealed it. Bucky Barnes knew: after all those months of flirting, he'd do anything for you. For that smile. That attention in those eyes.
"I'm not a cheap date, Sergeant Barnes," you whispered, the smile lazier than ever, or maybe it was the hooded blink in your eyes.
Bucky felt glad for the first time that his job under Fury and Captain America — he'd have to thank Sam Wilson, fuck — gave him real money.
He spent it rarely on things, never quite finding anything worth it besides a good motorbike, decorating his house to not look like a hotel, and a few good weapons.
He was willing to spend any amount on you.
"I'll make sure to take you somewhere nice."
"Wow... Are you gonna smile like that when you pick me up?"
"If you're looking at me like this, then yes." He laughs. "I like that smile."
"I like yours more."
"What are your favorite flowers?"
"What?!"
"You heard me. This is my first proper date in—actually, never mind. You don't need to know the number. In a long time. So I'm doing it right."
"Calla lillies."
"Thank you. You can go back to work now."
"I'm not one of your Agents, Sergeant."
"Y/n."
"Yes?"
"You do realize I'm the Second Superior in Command of the entire Avengers Compound, right?"
"..."
"Captain America," he puts his hands high on top. "Me." He lowers his hands just a little."
"...Fury?"
"Technically, doesn't even exist."
"Huh."
"Yeah."
"So... you're my boss's boss?"
"Precisely."
"Right. Good to know, Sergeant."
That had been the first date of many.
Bucky kept good on his word and doing so managed to bring you into his life. Light took over many corners that had been dark for years.
He took you to museums, art galleries, book launchings, and whatever else you asked him to, and had pleasure in doing so.
The days were not all spent out, either.
You showed him that when he let his guard down and showed you more than just his frowns or just the Sergeant you met walking the walls of the Compound, you could let your guard down, too.
Inside his apartment, you two watched countless movies, painted the walls, ordered take-out from several different places in the city with the intent of trying and figure out all the best ones—you napped with him. Accompanied him to physical therapy sessions he had with Dr. Park as he tried to learn life without the arm, too.
Some of it was flashy nights in the city, but some were quiet nights with jazz and wine, too.
Bucky loved every side of this.
All of them were worth their weight in gold.
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None of the designer stores he's ever visited made Bucky comfortable, but most of them were tolerable because of the champagne.
He enjoyed having something to do with his hands.
After a few months of visiting them every now and then, he ever learned a few cool games he could play as he stood or sat in the waiting area. This time, he was playing 'spot the places you could conduct secret sound surveillance without never being found' when you called his name.
"Yes?"
"C'mere for a sec, please?" You called.
Your voice sounded just a fraction too off for his liking, so Bucky puts down the glass and in a few steps arrives at the fitting room where you are.
When he enters the place, Bucky's jaw meets the velvety floor.
Gods, she looks breathtaking.
He walks almost subconsciously, stepping closer until he's standing right behind you as his eyes take over every inch of the outfit.
To accompany him as his date to the dinner the committee was holding for spies and allies in a lot of other countries, you'd come to shop for a new dress. You'd told Bucky you had never better to a party that important, and while part of him wanted to tone it down, say the occasion wasn't that fancy at all, the number of scientists, people Fury called personally to attend and the secret venue made it impossible.
So he told you to go shopping, and now, here you two were.
You in a satin, shimmery dress, a slit high up your thigh and with the back almost naked except for a few super thin straps of gold metal holding it together, and Bucky right behind you with his eyes darker than when he entered, his work clothes — jeans, a black t-shirt and his leather jacket on top — and a stupid look on his face.
"Holy fucking..." his words die out. The eyes are too busy drinking all of you in.
He's so busy watching how every bit of the dress clings to your body that Bucky almost misses the insecurity in your face. If it weren't for the way you whisper, "You think it's nice?" It would pass by him.
Your voice calls his eyes to go up to your face though, and that's when he sees.
The dark spark of judgment in your eyes, which are glued to the middle, where the dress hugs tight your round belly—the stomach he loves squeezing, loving, and biting, even on the days where you find it hard to love all the bits of you, that's one of the parts Bucky sees your eyes darting back to. You seem to judge your clavicle as well, exposed in the thin straps that hold the dress, even your arms.
"It's not too..."
"Too what?" Bucky chuckles. "Too sexy? Maybe." He's done with the uncertainty on your face, so he closes the distance between your bodies. "But that's a problem for me to deal."
"Buck. I'm serious," you even sound the part when you lock gazes with him through the mirror. "I know I'm—I try my best to be nice to myself and I accomplish it most of the time, but this is a big deal. And—with you. I'm your date. You wanna take me as your date, I gotta look the part." Your voice lowers, tugging on the strings of Bucky's heart. "I wanna look good."
"Baby." Bucky wraps both arms around your waist, hugging your body tightly. "You look way past good," he states, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek, and making sure to keep his eyes on yours so he sees that you believe he means every word. "Good was left in the dust. Miles behind ya. This? This is gold. I mean—It's literally gold—what is this fabric? God, it's good."
You giggle when he starts feeling up your body with both hands, and he thinks there it is. Much better. "Bucky—"
"Shhh, I'm tryna figure out what fabric this is."
"It's satin. Stop feeling me up!" you giggle.
"Hm. Your words say 'stop', and your body says 'oh, I love it, James, keep going'." He does stop, though, even if you were leaning into the touch. Even if you were pushing more of your back to mold on his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder and kisses the skin there. "I meant it. You look amazing, baby. Wasn't this the first dress you set eyes on when you walked in?"
Bashful with how much he's noticed, you nod. "Yeah."
He nods. "You've got good eyes."
"It's really not too much for an official, high-ranking, Fury-made Avengers party?"
"Nope," and Bucky would not give a rat's ass if it were. This is the dress you want and he knows it, and if what you wanted was to wear a black plastic bag, he'd let you.
"Right." You look to yourself again in the mirror, and Bucky watched you doing so. "I wanted to ask. 'Cause I know it's... tight."
"It's fitting," he corrects. His palms run through your stomach, the rolls and curves of your waist and thighs, and feels you sighing against his chest. "Looks really damn good."
"Buck..."
That's a different kind of tone. Bucky's lips form a smile right against the skin of your shoulder, and he decides to show you just how much he loves the dress.
His right hand makes a slow path to the hem of the dress while he presses kisses alongside your jaw, then on your neck. He pays good attention to that spot in the juncture of your shoulder and neck where you love to feel his tongue, his teeth—by the time his hand is sneaking under it, your legs are already parting for him just with the ministrations of his mouth on that sensitive part of your body.
Reluctant to leave his other hand from where it is, Bucky noses along your cheek until the magnetism of his lips close to yours calls you in for a kiss.
Your lips meet his slowly, and Bucky revels in the feeling of your tongue.
There's a reason he uses his right hand and not the metal one (most of the time): Bucky loves to feel on skin how warm you are.
The inside of your thighs are burning, and the soft moan you let out against his mouth makes his neck feel as hot as your core must be right now.
"Bucky," this time, it's said as a warning.
"What?" He runs the tip of his fingers deeper between your thighs until it's brushing on the fabric of your underwear. "Want me to stop?"
You gasp softly when Bucky's thumb makes contact with your folds, running upwards until it brushes on your clit. "I... we're in public."
"Never stopped us before," he chuckles, nosing along with your temple now. He feels how wet you are getting even through the panties. That's reason number two he enjoys to use his right hand.
"I'm still trying on the dress," you protest. It's weak in comparison to the way your hips are starting to be less than innocent in what you two are doing.
"I'll buy it. I'll buy ten of them."
It's your turn to chuckle. "You can't afford ten of these," your voice is a little breathy, but you're still too smart-mouthed for his tastes.
"I'll hack into politicians' accounts and buy this store, Y/n. You're not the only one with insane hacking abilities in this fitting room," Bucky feels himself getting worked up by how wet you already are and the fact that the sight in front of him in the mirror is his, so he starts kissing your neck again. "Can I show you what I see? How good you look in this, hm?"
You exhale in surrender, and Bucky feels all your weight pressed on him. "Okay."
"Thank you, baby." Bucky gets a little dizzy with how much he wants you, sometimes. "You gotta see what I see, 'cause..."
He stops teasing you, and instead of just a brush, he now cups his hand over your whole cunt, applying pressure to the heat he finds there.
He starts. "You see, this is the thing..." With his other hand, Bucky lets down your hair and drapes it on one side, making it voluminous. The blush on your cheeks helps with the vision too. Dropping his voice so low that only you can hear it with his lips pressing right on the shell of your ear, he continues. "This is the privileged vision you'd wanna deprive people of. Look at you. Look in the mirror, baby—yeah. See that? That's you. And fuck, don't you just look delicious enough to eat?"
"James, stop teasing. Please. Please," you plea.
He loves hearing you call him his name. The first time you did it, a voice in his head that came from decades ago said:
Hey, I'm Bucky. The dames call me James, but Bucky's what most people know me for.
You bring that voice and the person who said it back, even if just a little.
James.
"Please what?" He demands.
"Your fingers," you whine.
"Sh. I'll give you what you want," he whispers, but then lifts his metal hand to cover your mouth. He knows you'd tell the whole store what you two are up to otherwise. "You gotta keep quiet, though."
You nod behind his hand, and Bucky enjoys the view a little too much.
He stops teasing you after that.
Bucky pushes your panties to the side and starts by spreading your slick all through your folds, coating his fingers with it until he's lubed up all the way to his knuckles.
Then, he starts circling your clit.
That's when your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Bucky looks at the mirror and all his mind can conjure is The Cursed Woman, 1859. He'd seen that painting with you, and while he'd die if another man touched you (let alone two), he believed he could take the part of all three of them and make you the center of that art still.
You looked like a painting when pleasure hit all the nerves of your body.
Melting against his torso, Bucky watched you writhe and buckle against his head, seeking more of his fingers until he gripped your throat for a second in a warning and groaned, "Stand still," and you nodded in compliance.
You stop pushing your hips back on his crotch and just took what he gave you.
He'd still grow hard as a rock until you came, but with you obeying him at least there were no chances of him cumming undone in his pants like a teenager.
Some things are easier to mask than others.
Bucky finally takes pity on you and starts pumping his fingers inside you, one by one.
He first dips one all the way 'till his knuckles. Then two, which is a bit more of a stretch, but only for a few seconds. Your cunt swallows his fingers greedily the more you catch a glimpse of you two in the mirror, and the only sounds in the fitting room are both of your hard breathings and the low noises of your wetness and his fingers finding your spot relentlessly.
Bucky's glad for the music playing outside—when he does find your spot, it's impossible for him not to chase that orgasm that knocks all strength out of your legs.
He's three fingers deep in you when your hips start rocking back against his hard-on, and Bucky's too far gone in the way your eyes keep finding details on the reflection to pay attention to. He lets you.
Bucky finds that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and hits it until you're clenching around his fingers and your legs are shaking, your eyes nothing but white.
He'll buy you the dress, and a new pair of shoes to go along with, and after the event is done, he'll take all of them off and throw it somewhere in his house, just for the pleasure of seeing all of you like this—head swimming in pleasure, knowing you're the most gorgeous sight he's got to lay eyes on.
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🏷 b.b. tag list ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions-blog ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fiftyshadesofokay ; @peonyophelia ; @murdermornings ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckspumpkin ; @sltwins ; @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @sstan-hoe ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @maladaptivexxdaydreaming ; @holl2712 ♡
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summerofsnowflakes · a day ago
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His Angel, His Sweetheart
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Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader / Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Steve x Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 3.9K
Summary: You and Steve 'break up' after a nasty fight in front of his guys and you have the perfect idea to make him jealous.
Warnings: This fic contains smut, 18+ MDI, threesome, overstimulation, spanking, fingering, oral (M and F receiving) Pet names, sub/dom dynamics.
A/N: This is purely just porn with a tiny bit of plot and I'm not sorry about it.
Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics
Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist
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Your heart was beating out of your chest as your knuckles wrapped against Bucky’s office door. Anticipation thumped through your body, you could hear the low hum of your own anxiety buzzing above your head. 
You knew this was a terrible idea, you shouldn’t be doing this. You were signing your own death certificate. You wish you’d realised an hour ago when the idea popped into your head.
But it was too late to back down, you had to push through the nerves. Steve was a complete asshole, he’d treated you like trash, shouting at you in front of his men. 
He needed to be taught a lesson, even if you would end up worse off from it. 
Bucky smiled up at you as you treaded carefully into his office. “Hiya Doll face, what can I do for you?” 
You breathed out shakily, strutting over to his desk.You smiled proudly when Bucky’s eyes flickered from your face to your hips, entranced by the way you wiggled your hips from left to right.  
You placed your hands on the edge of his wooden desk, fingertips curing round the stained, pushing your low cut top into his eyeline.
“I need your help with something, Buck.” You sang sweetly.  
He cleared his throat painfully, leaning back in his chair to create some distance between your bodies. He adjusted his pants, not hiding the growing tent in his suit trousers. 
“And what’s that, Sweetheart?” He smirked.
“Well…you see…” Your teeth chattered as you forced the words past your lips.
“StevieandIbrokeupandIwaswonderingifyoucouldhelpmemakehimjealous?” The words tumbled out so quickly that you Bucky barely had a chance to register what you’d asked of him. 
He studied you, pulling apart the squashed jumble of words and piecing together their meaning. You watched as realisation washed over his features, “you want me to do what?” 
“Help me make Steve jealous.” You stated more clearly. Shock turned into amusement, a cackle escaped his lips as he shook his head incredulously but remained silent.
“You’re the boss and his best friend and it would really get him back for the way he spoke to me this morning.” You continued, pacing back and forth frantically in front of his desk. 
“You tryna get us both killed, Sweetheart?” he scoffed, “I may be the boss, but Steve’s the muscle in this operation.” 
“Pleeease.” You whined, rushing around his desk and grabbing his hand in yours. You ran your soft fingers over the back of his hand, toying with the silver rings that sat comfortably on his fingers. 
“He really hurt my feelings this morning, it’s only fair I get to hurt him back.” You pouted, fluttering your eyelashes at him innocently. “I need you, Buck.”
Bucky sighed, dropping his head in defeat and mumbled a soft agreement. You let out an excited squeal, jumping into his lap, you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. 
“You’re the best, thank you!” You cheered, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’ll see you at the kickback later?” You asked, you face centimetres from his. 
“Yeah I’ll see you there.” He smirked, placing his hands on your hips, helping you out of his lap.
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Bucky waited for you outside the club, his cold stare burned through the tinted windows you hid behind. You were late, very late. 
He opened the door for you, thanking Frank your driver and helped you out of your seat. “You’re late, Sweetheart.” There was a soft seething in his voice, no one kept Bucky Barnes waiting. Ever.
The heel of your shoe caught in a crack on the sidewalk and your leg gave out, clumsily falling out of the car and into Bucky’s arms. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, large fingertips splayed over your body in the most delicious way. 
Your breath caught in your throat as you peered up into his smirking eyes,  “careful, can’t have you hurting yourself before the night’s even started.”
You mumbled a sheeping thank you, as he led you through the doors and into the darkness. 
Everything in your body screamed for you to slip out of Bucky’s grip, to run back to the door and get Frank to take you home. Until you see Steve laughing and joking, surrounded by the regular women that hung around. 
Your blood boiled in your veins, you knew what they wanted. They were always ready to pounce on him the minute you were out of sight, tonight he looked like he was entertaining the idea of them too. 
You made eye contact with him over the smoky air and your heart gave out for a short lived second. 
Bucky’s fingertips rubbed soft circles over your waist as everyone came up to pay their respects to the boss. It was a grounding moment, the push you needed to work through the guilt and anxiety. 
You offered Steve a menacing, albeit fake smile, cocking your head sideways playfully. 
You lent further into Bucky’s  body, reaching up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek, your eyes never leaving Steve’s furious gaze as you soft lips ran across scratchy stubble. 
“Think it might be working, Buck.” Your lips lingered over the shell of his as you shot a wink in Steve’s direction and walked off. 
“Yeah, I can feel the hole he’s burning into the back of my head, Sweetheart.” He chuckled. 
You reached the VIP section of the club and were welcomed by Bucky’s men with their usual standard of hospitality. 
Bucky took a seat at the highest point of the section, the highest point of the club, bar his office. He was the king looking down on the land he ruled, his subjects danced the night night away as the heavy baselines thumped through connecting bodies. 
It was the ultimate power trip. 
The closest you’d ever gotten to that seat was with Steve, you sat beside Bucky in the seats placed just below his. You knew your place in the club usually, tonight you were a fish out of water. 
You looked around the VIP section, like a lost little girl and moved to sit in your usual seat. 
Bucky cleared his throat, capturing your attention once more and patted his knee, signalling for you to sit down with him tonight. 
Nerves tingled in the pit of your stomach as you grinned at him. He was taking his role so seriously, it was good to have someone on your team. 
You climbed into his lap, settling your back against his warm chest, he wrapped one arm around your waist. Metal fingertips grazing over your bare shoulders softly, awakening a trail of goosebumps along your exposed skin. 
Steve couldn’t look away, he watched from below at your little scene of payback he was forced to look at. Fire burnt in his blue eyes the glass in his hand shattered under his iron grip. 
You heard the sound of fractured glass falling to the floor and you knew it was Steve, but it was too dark to see it happening. 
You fidgeted in Bucky’s lap, squirming at the thought of Steve's anger boiling over. The only thing keeping you calm was Bucky’s fingertips toying with your skin lightly.  
Through the flashing lights and clearing smoke, Bucky met Steve’s gaze over your shoulder and smiled at him. 
You couldn’t sit still, no matter how hard you tried, it was becoming hard for Bucky to concentrate. His hands gripped your waist, stopping your movements entirely as his arousal grew harder to control. 
He lent into you, lips grazing your ear, his hot tongue licking along your earlobe. “You're killing me, Sweetheart.” He growled in your ear. “You need to stop fidgeting or I’ll rip that dress off of you right now and fuck you here in front of Steve and everyone in the club.” 
Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan slipped past your lips, only loud enough that he could hear. You circled your hips against his bruising grip. 
“I’m sorry Buck.” You whimpered, “feels really good.”
Confidence surged through you, you knew Steve could see you, but you were getting lost in Bucky. You grabbed his hand and led it up your skirt. 
His breathing picked up when he realised you were wearing any panties, his fingers gliding through your soaking folds. You couldn’t hold back the broken whine that ripped through your chest as his fingers teased your clit. 
“You enjoying the thought of me ruining you right here, Sweetheart?” He smirked, lips moving against your neck. 
You nodded frantically, as the tip of his finger teased your entrance. Your head fell back onto his shoulder as you pushed your ass back on his hardening length. 
You heard him before you saw him, the thundering of his footsteps against the sticky floors. A cloud of rage shrouded the VIP section as he ripped the rope and stormed up the stairs. 
“Upstairs, now! Both of you.” He roared, his face flushed with deep seeded anger, a fury in his eyes you’d never seen before. 
He didn’t look at Bucky, his eyes stared straight at you and you walked up into Bucky’s office, a sheepish tale between your legs.
Fear rippled through your body, you weren’t sure what to expect. You and Steve had always been volatile, constantly arguing, breaking up over silly, insignificant things. But truthfully, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no one ever made you feel the way he did. 
Bucky walked into the room first, patiently wandered over to his desk and sat down. You walked in next, head hanging low, you refused to look at either of them now. 
Steve walked in behind you, closing the dock behind him, the click of the lock, made your body jump nervously. 
Steve pressed his body against you, your breath faltered in your chest as you felt his hot breath move over your neck. “Bend over the desk facing Bucky, Angel.” He ordered quietly in your ear, “and pull up that pathetic excuse of dress.” 
You followed his instructions and bent over the desk, you peered up at Bucky looking into his cold eyes for any sign that he would help you. You found nothing but amusement there, he was enjoying seeing you like this. 
You were on your own and you felt humiliated for ever considering going to Bucky for help. 
You released a shaky breath and pulled the silky fabric over your ass, exposing your bare pussy to Steve’s vexed gaze. 
He walked up behind you, pressing himself against you, pushing his cock into you. It was gone before you had the chance to push back on it.
Steve dropped to his knees, kneading the globes of your ass, spreading them apart and watching your slick spill from your slit and down your legs. 
“Such a naughty girl,” he murmured. “You wanna tell me who made you this wet, angel?” He demanded, his fingers digging into your cheeks roughly. 
You stared up at Bucky frantically with parted lips, waiting for him to jump in and claim it was all down to him. He did no such thing, instead he quirked his eyebrow at you, waiting for your response.  
Steve’s hand cracked down your asscheek harshly, the sound echoed through the room. You whimpered at the sting, head dropping against the desk in defeat. 
“I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” He slapped the same cheek again, with the same force. “I’ll ask again, who made you this wet?” 
You shook your head frantically, lips not daring to open and stinging shockwaves washed through your body.  
Steve laughed menacingly, unleashing another slap on the same cheek and this time you cried out painfully. 
“Interesting, you were so vocal when you were begging Bucky to agree to your little plan to make me jealous. So where’s that voice gone now, Angel?” He sneered, the life drained from your as you met Bucky’s smirking gaze. 
You hadn’t banked on Bucky double crossing you, you hadn’t considered the strength of their friendship. That was a colossal mistake. 
“I have to say it worked out very well for everyone, all things considered.” Steve continued. “Even though I knew what was going on, it still took everything in me to not walk over to you sooner and shoot you both in the skulls.” 
You whimpered at his words as he clapped his hand down on you, tears stung the corners of your eyes. You rested your head against the desk,  defeat flooded through you. You’d lost this little game, you had to take your punishment and pray Steve didn’t kill you at the end of all of this. 
“I’m gonna ask you one more time Angel and I want an answer. Who made you this wet?” Steve's voice grew more stern, his patience wearing paper thin. 
“You and Bucky.” You whispered into the wood, shame creeped up your neck. You prayed you said it loud enough that you wouldn’t have to say it again.  
Steve’s hand slipped between your thighs, taking your clit between his thumb and index finger and rolled it gently. “See that wasn’t so hard was it?” 
You moaned as he worked your clit slowly, building up the pleasure knotting in your stomach, the pain spread of your ass completely forgotten. 
“I have to say Angel, I am impressed by your nerve, but if you wanted to be fucked by Bucky, all you had to do was ask.” He huffed, tapping your clit with his finger, his soft tabs against the bundle of nerves grew harder until you were crying out for him. 
Steve’s name echoed around the room just as you teetered on the edge of pleasure. Without warning, he removed his hand from you completely.
He left you like that for two achingly long moments, as you cried softly, begging him to let you cum. 
He leant in close, blowing cold air over your sensitive clit, flicking it with finger every so often. Everything was dialled up to hundred, you felt his every move on your body so much more intensely than usual. 
“But instead, you had to come up with some elaborate plan that was only going to ensure you got punished.” He growled, slapping your ass again. 
As your body jerked forwards from the impact, Steve’s tongue was out and ready to capture your clit, he swirled his tongue around it.
“Steve, please…” You sobbed desperately, your body jerked uncontrollably. “I’m sorry.” 
“She finally speaks.” He muttered against your thigh. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Angel.” 
He repeated his last movement on your body again, but this time when your body moved forwards his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it harshly. Your body shook with pleasure, your thighs threatened to give out under you. 
The cord threatened to snap in your stomach as you mumbled and cried out your apology over and over again. 
“Hold it.” Steve demanded against your clit, the vibrations nearly took you over the edge, but somehow you held it. You were determined not to make him more angry. 
Steve’s hand connected with your ass cheek and this time when you pushed your clit to his lips, he grazed his teeth over the pearl. 
Your body convulsed above him, you couldn’t hold it back any longer, but you had to. You were so close to pure bliss, but you held yourself together by a very thin piece of fraying thread. 
Bucky’s hand gripped your chin, forcing your vision up to him, metal fingertips wrapping around your neck and squeezing the air from your lungs. 
His other hand fisted his thick cock quickly, you could tell by the pained expression on his face, the stuttering of his breath that he was as close as you were. 
“Be a good girl and hold it just a little bit longer.” He breathed through gritted teeth. Steve’s teeth grazed your clit again as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them up into your soft spongy spot. 
“Please, please please.” You whimpered through strained breaths as Bucky’s fingers tightened around your neck.
“Go ahead, Sweetheart, make Steve’s face all wet.” Bucky moaned as he fell back in his chair, his seed spilling from  his cock all over his hand and his white shirt. 
Steve’s fingers dragged along your walls quickly, hitting all the right spots while his tongue flicked your clit in his mouth. You came with a loud scream, one that overpowered the sound of the music outside the office. 
It was the most intense high you’d ever experienced. Steve’s fingers and mouth worked you through it all, his hand and face soaked in your juices. 
Steve gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up from the table, tight against his back. Your head spun lightly, you felt your mind and body floating apart under the strength of pain and pleasure Steve had caused you. 
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like such a good girl, usually you never listen to me.” Steve kissed along your neck, his fingers pulling the top of your dress down over your breasts. 
“You trying to show off because Bucky’s watching you, want him to think you can be a good girl for him when you’re naughty for me?”
“No, I want to be good for you, Steve.” You mewled, reaching between your bodies and gripped his length through his pants. 
“Oh Angel, I think we’re way past that now.” Steve chuckled, “sit on the desk, legs spread, facing Bucky.” 
You followed his orders to a clumsy degree, climbing onto the table. Bucky’s face had changed completely, he offered you an adoring smile, licking his lips hungrily at the meal presented before him. 
He looked up at Steve, hands crawling up your open legs, pulling you closer to him. “Once I start, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop.” 
“Who said you had to stop?” Steve smirked down at his best friend. “Fun’s just beginning, Buck.” 
Bucky’s eyes travelled from Steve’s to yours, checking for any signs you wanted to stop. “You sure about this, Sweetheart?” 
“Certain.” You nodded, fingertips lacing through his long, brown locks and pulled his face down to your core. You moaned brokenly as his tongue explored your sensitive walls, as he breathed you in. 
His tongue dipped between your folds and into your entrance, slowly fucking you with his tongue slowly, his hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts.
Bucky lapped up the juices left from the orgasm Steve had brought down on you. He watched Steve roll your nipples between his fingers, tugging and pinching at your sensitive skin. 
“It’s okay Buck, she likes it rough.” Steve chuckled as he slapped one of your breasts. You mewled and rolled your hips into Bucky’s face. 
Bucky’s fingers toyed with your clit, smiling proudly as you bucked your hips wildly each time his fingers brushed past it. He continued his assault on your pussy, guiding your hips with his vibranium hand back and forth on his tongue and he delved deeper into you. 
Steve gripped you by the neck as your breathing became more laboured with each time his tongue dipped inside you. “Don’t be rude, Angel, you gotta let Bucky know he’s doing a good job.” 
You whimpered and writhed at Steve’s words, you looked down at Bucky through wet eyes. “Buck your tongue feels amazing.” You breathed, picking up the pace of your hips, grinding down further on his tongue. 
“Not as good as you feel sucking my tongue in greedily.” Bucky grunted against your core as his fingers rubbed a figure of eight into your clit. 
You didn’t get the chance to ask for permission, you were already falling apart by the time you could think a  coherent thought. You soaked Bucky’s chin more than you had to Steve. A drawn out cry ripped from your chest.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered over and over, falling back against Steve's rock solid chest. 
“It’s okay Angel, I think we can let that one slide.” Steve whispered in your ear, as Bucky stood and pulled his hard cock from his pants once again . “You’re doing so well for us, can’t wait to fuck your throat.” 
“Love you Steve.” You muttered quietly, focusing your gaze on Bucky, the sight of his cock bobbing as he inched towards you had you clenching around nothing. 
He gripped the backs of your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the desk and lined himself up with your entrance. 
You whined as he pushed inside you, the stretch was delicious and dizzying.   “Fuck that’s even better than I ever dreamed it would be.” He grunted, bottoming out. 
“Bucky.” You whimpered, head lulling tiredly as he allowed you the reprieve of getting used to his size. 
“Can see why he keeps getting back with you, Sweetheart. The way you're squeezing round me is just too good to give up.” He moaned, pulling out leaving you completely empty. His tip hovered over your entrance until you lifted your hips and pushed yourself down on his dick. 
You both groaned at the feeling, Bucky watched as you swallowed him whole and started to drive his hips in and out of you. 
You reached behind you, moving Steve’s hand from his cock and replacing it with your own, pumping in time with Bucky’s thrusts. All three of you were experiencing a different form of heaven, no one wanted the pleasure to end. 
Steve rutted his hips into your hand, desperate to quicken the movements as he chased his high. 
Bucky’s hand raked down your body, grabbing at you roughly, doing as Steve had done earlier, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He growled as he felt your walls contract around him. “You gonna be mine too? Let me have this tight little pussy whenever I want?” 
“Only if Steve says it’s okay.” You groaned, as your hips met his thrusts.
Both men laughed at your answer, Steve placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, whilst Bucky’s fingers threatened to play with your oversensitive clit once again. 
“I can get on board with that.” Steve moaned, “Lay down Angel, I want your mouth.” 
You laid back, head hanging off the side of the desk, mouth in line with his cock as he pushed it passed your willing lips. 
They worked in tandem with one another, when Steve thrusted in, Bucky pulled out. Setting a relentless pace on your holes, both eagerly chasing their own highs as they used you for their own pleasure. 
Bucky lifted you leg over his shoulder, thrusting into you at a deeper angle that had you crying around Steve’s cock. The vibrations on your moans pushed him over the edge and he shot his seed deep down your throat. 
Bucky’s hips began to falter as he neared his high. Steve pulled himself from your mouth and reached over your body to press down on your clit. 
Your third and final orgasm exploded inside you, white hot pleasure coursed through your veins as you clenched around Bucky’s cock and forced his own orgasm. You finished with a pained cry and fell limp, as he fell back against his chair tiredly.  
Steve tenderly picked you up from the table and carried you over to the sofa in the corner of the room. You curled up into his side as the intensity of your orgasms died down and fatigue took over. 
“Relax Angel, I’ll be right here while you wake up.” He spoke softly as you floated back down to earth against the beat of the music downstairs. 
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Tags: @elemenhoepe @delaber @theselilwonders @ramp-it-up @mkirk12776 @nikole-witha-k @turbolisedcomet @snugglingbucky @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @[email protected] @anxiousgirlsarehotter @natbarnes1917
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oceanbucky · a day ago
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𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝟏) • 𝐛.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
pairing — best friend!bucky barnes x reader (modern au) (best friends to lovers)
summary — after breaking up with your cheating ex, you’re left with two tickets to greece. you continue with the trip and oh, bucky’s coming along with you. what could go wrong? 
warnings — angst, cheating, fluff, lowkey mutual pining, tension 
word count — 2,244
author’s note — hi, this is the first chapter of my new series, i’ve just started writing and your feedback is important to me! i hope you love this and thank you for reading!
series masterlist
tags are open! feel free to drop me an ask or fill in my taglist form! thank you for reading! please reblog if you’d like to, have a good day!
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You sat on a bench in the middle of central park, shivering lightly as a cold breeze brushed past your skin, you were alone in the middle of a park at one in the morning, the usual sounds of crickets chirping barely bothered you as you wiped at what was left of your tears, your cheeks were tear stained and your eyes were red, swollen from crying for what felt like half a day.
You choked back on a sob, your fingers tightening around the napkin that a stranger had passed you, her eyes filled with sympathy, that was probably a good three hours ago, you had lost count of just how long you had been sitting on this exact bench, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried so hard to get the image of your boyfriend, well, ex and your friend in bed out of your head. 
They were both half naked, Brock’s face practically in her neck, her wanton moans bouncing off the walls of what you once called your room as she rode him, her fingers digging into his chest, and there you stood for a good ten seconds, too dumbfounded to say a single word. 
Your eyes had welled up with tears, the bags and bags of essentials you had bought for you and Brock’s trip to Greece dropped to the floor, catching their attention. You remembered how your ex had scrambled, eyes wide with shock at the sight of you, shaking your head as you chuckled dryly. 
“(Y/n)-”
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me it was an accident because we both know that you’ve been eyeing her for months” you retort, fist clenched as you held back your tears, refusing to give the both of them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, you didn’t need to hear Brittany’s mocking comments about you, and you could see that smirk painted on her face, her hair framing her face ever so fucking perfectly, she had always been the perfect one, the one with the small waist and the ass that you were pretty sure caught Brock’s attention the second you introduced your friend to him. 
So when the both of them stood against you, you weren’t left with much of a choice except to pack your things messily into your duffle bag, trying to ignore their whispered comments outside the room. 
Now, here you were, in the park, alone. You sighed, biting your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You were homeless, what was left of your savings had been pumped into that damn apartment’s rent and the rest went into the getaway vacation that you had planned for months, and just as you were about to give in to the tears that threatened to slip, your phone buzzed, the ten percent warning flashing in your face, you cursed lightly, and just then, your phone rang. 
The familiar picture of your best friend, Bucky popped up on your screen, the profile simply being a selfie of you and the brunette, wide happy smiles on your faces, it was taken years ago and yet it still stood as one of your best memories. 
You picked up the call, trying to steady your voice as you mumbled a quick “hey Buck”, because if Bucky knew what Brock had done, you were pretty damn sure he’d be at your ex’s door faster than you could stop him, and the last thing you needed was Bucky standing up for you like that. Just as he did when you were both in elementary school, against bullies who’d never left you alone just for him to end up in the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and a black eye. 
“(Y/n)?” he said, his voice was filled with worry, “are you okay?” you swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears, you needed him, so badly, the feel of his arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace always made you feel at ease, almost as if you were home. 
“I-I, it’s nothing Buck-”
“Doll, what’s wrong?” he continued. 
“B-bucky”
“It’s Rumlow isn’t it?”
“Bucky, please-” you replied, your voice shaky, “Where are you?” he asks, almost gently. 
“The park, on the bench,” you said softly, “The one with the oak tree beside it?” your best friend concludes and you replied with a “yes”. He drops a quick “I’ll be there in ten, do not move” before he hangs up. 
You gazed at the oak tree beside you, the memories from almost two decades ago ran through your mind like a film without sound. It was right here where you met Bucky, you were both seven, and you remembered thinking how this boy had the most bluest cerulean eyes you had ever seen paired with the brightest smile. 
You and Bucky became best friends almost instantly, that was sealed when you realised you both shared the same favourite ice cream flavour, chocolate chip, from then on, you were both inseparable, he’d wait for you at your apartment every morning, greeting your mum with a smile and an ever so polite “good morning Mrs (L/N)” before he left with you, your laughters echoing through the hallway as you both made your way to school. 
That lasted a good way till the end of high school, and even in college, you both had “Friday movie nights” which you had cancelled many times due to Brock demanding that you spent Fridays with him. 
The rumble of a motorcycle pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Bucky dressed in one of his black shirts and jeans matched with his signature dark leather jacket, he slipped his helmet off with ease, his eyes quickly found yours, a comforting smile on his face as you stood up. 
“You alright?” he asks, and you nod, returning his smile with a small one. 
“You didn’t call and I was at your place-”
“Movie night! Oh god, Buck, I, I was gonna go over once I dropped the things off and-”
“No, no, it’s fine doll, what matters most is that you’re okay. What happened?” he asks as he helps you with your bags and you blinked back tears, “Brock, h-he cheated with Brittany.” you admitted, and you swore you saw the brunette’s fingers tighten around your bag. 
“That piece of-”
“It’s alright Bucky” you said quickly, “Brock and I are over” you whispered, nodding almost as if to remind yourself of that fact, the brunette places your bags in his top box, passing you a helmet in the process, it was the same purple one he had gotten just for you when he got his motorbike, “Just in case you ever wanna go for a ride” he had said with a boyish grin, you were both eighteen, and you remembered being so excited when he took you for a ride around New York. 
“Here, let me” he said softly as he takes the helmet, putting it on you, “Just making sure it still fits” he says lightly and you nod, it had been years since you took a ride and just feeling his fingers brush against your neck just as the way they did when he first put it on made you shiver. 
You shook your head as Bucky slips his jacket off, “It’s fine, i’m not-” “It’s a cold night doll, put it on” the brunette replies and deciding that you could never argue with him, you gave in, putting it on, and immediately the smell of his cologne hits you, it was familiar, the smell of sandalwood and white musk, the cologne you had gotten him on his birthday just last year. 
He still had it. 
You got onto the motorbike, wrapping your arms around his waist, the motorcycle rumbled and off it went, you rested your head against Bucky’s back, allowing yourself to give in to much needed sleep as you went past empty roads, the jacket keeping you warm as your eyes slowly fluttered shut, and for a while, you managed to catch some rest, the image of your ex disappearing. 
“(Y/n), we’re here” Bucky had said, shaking you ever so gently as he picks up your bags, taking your helmet along with him as he guides you to the oh so familiar building, the last time you were here was a good three months ago, for movie night, it felt it had been years ago, and you could feel guilt pooling in your stomach as you remembered the number of times you had cancelled on the brunette. 
The dinghy lift creaked a little as Bucky pressed the number 5 button. “I swear this lift is about to breakdown” he mumbles and you couldn’t help but chuckle, “Buck, that’s what you said a year ago,” you joked as he shoots you a playful glare. 
“Not my fault Marge lasted this long,” you shook your head, laughing, Marge was the nickname you and Bucky had given this lift when he had just moved in, and it was just as old as it was then. 
The lift dinged, and you stepped out, following the brunette to his door, he easily unlocked his door, letting you in first, after all he was always the gentleman, something about him you had always appreciated. You looked around the apartment, it still looked and felt the same, like home. 
The pictures of you and Bucky at prom still hung from the wall, bright smiles and you could still fondly remember how your heart had almost pounded out of your chest when the brunette placed his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you both smiled for the camera, those times were perfect and you always wished you could go back when you were a wide eyed innocent child, oh how simple things were back then. 
“Bucky” you started softly and he looks towards you, “Thank you, for everything,” you continued and he nods with a reassuring smile, “Anytime doll,” he replies. 
“Could I, maybe borrow your laptop, mine’s dead,” you said and he glances at you, surprised, “Now?”. 
“Yeah, I-I should cancel that trip to Greece, the hotel and-”
“Greece?” 
“Y-yeah, I planned a trip with Brock months ago and the flight’s on Sunday and-” you rambled on before Bucky cuts in with a “I’ll go with you” leaving you in shock. 
“B-but, it’s a week long” 
“Exactly, and you’re not wasting your money, come on doll, it’s Greece, you love it, Athens and the Parthenon, all that was part of your travel diary,” the brunette replies, you couldn’t help but smile when he brings up your travel diary, a little journal you had made when you were in the sixth grade, and you had been so exhilarated when you completed it, showing it to your best friend as you went on and on about how you were so gonna visit the place of your dreams when you were older. 
“You remembered”. 
“Of course, i’d never forget a thing about you,” he replies, his voice so, so comforting and you nodded, warmth flooding your chest as you allowed his words to sink in, you could feel all the feelings that you had buried long before slowly surfacing, you remembered just how you had tried so hard to hide the way your palms would turn clammy when Bucky held your hand, squeezing it reassuringly on your first day of senior year, or how you had almost combusted when he leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your neck as he taught you how to solve the one math problem that you just couldn’t figure out. 
“Let’s go for that trip doll, you deserve it,” the brunette says, “I guess we’re off to Greece then,” you reply with a smile. 
“You bet we are,” Bucky replied, he couldn’t help but smile when you did, god, there was just something about your smile, it wasn’t just the fact that it bought out just about all your features, it was the fact that he couldn’t help but fall into it, every time you smiled, he swore he could feel his heart beat just a little faster, his stomach would do flips as he tried to stop himself from being pulled deeper into the clutches of love, he had in every damn way, tried to get over you when you dated Rumlow. 
He went on random dates that his friends had set him up on and even then, he never could get you out of his mind and just by the way his heart was pounding so quickly, he knew that was impossible. 
Not that he ever wanted to either. 
It was almost three in the morning when you finally settled into bed, well, Bucky’s bed, he had insisted to take the couch despite the both of you having cuddled on the couch every time you came over for movie night. Despite your protests, he had moved his blanket and pillow to the hall, handing you fresh ones, and making sure you were comfortable before he left. 
You tossed and turned, and just then, your phone lit up, the notification of your upcoming flight two days from now flashed on your screen, you sigh as you rested your head against the pillow, wondering if you had made the correct choice to go on vacation with Bucky. 
You shook the doubts away, reminding yourself to catch some sleep, and to perhaps stop worrying. 
After all, you and Bucky were just best friends, right?
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author’s note — hi sweetie! i hope you enjoyed chapter 1, if you’d like a chapter 2, let me know and i’ll work on it! your feedback is important to me, so let me know what you think! thank you for stopping by! 
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darkdarkstucky · 2 days ago
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Scenting | B. Barnes
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summary: the stereotypes of the alpha and omega dynamics were blurred, when it comes to you and bucky.
pairings: omega!beefy!bucky x alpha!small!reader
warnings: language, abo dynamics.
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anyone who sees bucky; six foot four mass of a man, yielding brute strength and the deadly precision of a world-reknowned assassin, would always assume he's an alpha. he's got the muscular stature down to pat, he looks like someone who will slam you to the nearby wall should you present to be a threat to his omega and pups, don't he?
well he will, absolutely, slam you into a wall without a second thought should you prove yourself to be a threat to his mate and pups; mostly because he's a senior citizen, and he's had enough of people's shit and he would not stand for some rando disrespecting his mate, omega or not, his hands are rated violent for everyone.
another thing is, he was an omega.
HYDRA, for all their advanced technology during their time could not alter his designation despite the serum cursing through his veins. it was a silly joke he had been dealt with, drawn and quartered in the 40s, experimented on, had been on copious amounts of suppressants and scent blockers, frozen like a damn chicken when the winter soldier is not needed.
there was little time to mingle or find his mate even as he tried to immerse himself in the real world.
sure, bucky has dated. he's dated plenty. tried to put himself out there, like that beta from the pr department, or the receptionist from stark tower's, or that chick from the park. but he was spread far too thin with missions, and therapy, training and making amends with his victims or their families, which made any meaningful relationships impossible. they were all too weirded out about his identity anyways, what more, should they figure out he was a broken omega too.
his cycle was fucked up and he hasn't had any since sometime twenty years ago, in an abandoned warehouse twisting in gut wrenching pain, before he was caged and tossed in the cyro. he remembers that. the pain too piercing to have been missed.
o the life of james buchanan fucking barnes. the casanova from the 40s had fallen too far from the suave and easily beguilling man, too confident for his own good. now? oh now, he's embroiled in self-hatred, and trauma, with night terrors and his designation atop of it all. he's given up on finding an alpha, because, who in the world would want a broken toy?
“you okay pal?” steve huffs out in fatigue, a rough session with the weights and his usual exercise routine had tired the blonde out, sweat sticking to his forehead. but even he was not too dense to figure out that bucky has been under considerable amount of stress and the pressure he puts on himself, is so to speak, staggering.
“why won't i be?” he quips, delivering a blow that knocked the punching bag off it's perch and to the floors.
“hey, you're sexually frustrated, we get it.” sam hollers from the threadmill, barely flinching when bucky snarled at his audacity.
“shut up, birdbrain.”
“i'm saying-”
“why don't i punch your teeth in so you can't anymore?”
“alright!” steve clamors, cutting of the snark reply tethering on sam's tongue. “everyone is tired and fatigued with all the mission's we've been committing to. there's no use in snarling and clawing eachother's eyes out, or teeth in.”
bucky grumbles, but stayed quiet nonetheless, whereas sam mumbles something incoherent under his voice. bucky chose to ignore him for peace and quiet, but he did try to trip sam when he walked past, to which steve immediately inserted himself as to avoid further altercation.
“seriously, buck.” steve chides as they walk out of the gym, “you're uncharateristically short this week, something bothering you?”
he grimaces in his head, how could he ever explain it to steve when even he, struggles to make sense of it all.
“'m fine.” he gruffs out, but steve remained unphased with his reply, quirking an eyebrow. “just tired.” he supplies, which was half the truth.
he is tired, and sleep deprived. but nothing the serum can't work with. he's been neglectful of his well-being with far more extreme measures.
he looked like he wanted to say more, but the voice of FRIDAY beat him to speaking, “mr. stark is requiring every present avenger in the conference room, meeting starts in five.” the robotic voice of the AI cuts through he air. the men looked at eachother, shrugging in confusion but following through orders aswell.
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you fiddle with the invisible seams of your tactical gear, clad in the skin tight black suit and armed with high powered guns in the holster, your shoulders squared and your gaze intent on nothing in particular- your chin turnt up and a serious expression as your facade to hide the true nervousness bubbling inside your chest.
finally, though, you snagged a well coveted spot in the elite avenger initiative after a year of rigorous training and life-risking missions under the supervision of SHIELD and the watchful eye for talent of director nick fury.
you passed the trainings with flying colors, dabbled on tech and weapon engineering, excelling in classes. it also quite helped, that despite your small frame and seemingly harmless appearance, as an alpha, people were esily reliant and trusting of you; as if openly seeking for approval, which clouds your target in a momentary haze of how nature intended it to be.
you had easily become the fastest recruit to accomplish s-classified missions and infiltrated several terrorist organizations and brought them to ruins inside out. you were esteemed and applauded for your talents, and equal parts disdained at for being an accomplished young female alpha, but most were certain your prospects were only looking bright from here on out.
still, there was a strange gnawing thought at your basebrain. as if something important was missing.
you had not even noticed that the chairs were half filled, and your new teammates looking upon you, standing alongside fury with curiousity and interest.
“we're just waiting for the soldiers,” stark assures you, must have sensed that your brain was going into an overdrive and you were lost to your own thoughts. he was the only one you had met down at the labs, where fury was slowly introducing you to the team; testing the waters of your chemistry with the rest.
stark was ofcourse first, due to his obnoxious demeanor and sarcastic quips that were sometimes, borderline offensive.
you didn't mind his humor, nor his ramblings. you had gotten along like a house on fire with the alpha and the distance was easily thrown out the window once you both had gotten to tinkering with his repulsors, adding new functions and doing general calculations.
taking a lungful of air, you were wrapped in several scents, but none too overpowering. they were all light and airy, pleasant to the nose which was a good sign; they weren't having unpleasant feelings at your presence.
“sorry, we're late.” the baritone of captain america rumbles along the expanse of the conference room, most of the team looking at him, and the grumbling pair behind, equally as tall and built behind him.
“cat fight?” natasha smirks in amusement, as she sees the scratches and forming bruises around bucky and sam's face, aswell as the nasty bust to steve's chin.
“he started it!” sam's boisterous voice yells, it was coupled with an accusing finger pointed towards bucky, eyes wide as the man tries to bite it off, “the senior citizen tried to trip me, and hurled a water bottle at my face!”
“in my defense, i thought you swallowed the garbage can and was trying to fucking recycle!”
“you dimwitted fuck!” he exclaims, offended.
“you're one to speak, there's not an iota of intelligence in your small fry brain!”
“enough!” steve threw a withering glare to the kids, who continued to glare and hurl expletives and insults under bated breath. steve felt an incoming headache and sensed a few white hairs making itself known, however.
the team snickers, familiar with the banter. whereas fury watches with impatience and beside him, you giggle. this was the infamous sam wilson and bucky barnes; both soldiers, one a wold war veteran at that.
“can you shut the fuck up for one moment, so we can proceed with the meeting?” fury barks, which ceased the arguement for a bit.
enough that they finally take a seat, and for bucky and you to finally meet eyes; both of you freezing, as an electric like current flows through the single stare.
unconsciously, you take a stuttering breath, pupils blowing wide once you register the heavenly scent permeating in the air; of fresh pine and sultry sandalwood, coupled with hints of damascus rose. it smelled positively divine, that your throat dries up, and you looked away in order to suppress the primal urge, clawing at your sanity to jump the wide-eyed super soldier.
fuck, you wanted to knot him.
your designation has never held to be a defining quality of yours, but at this very moment, every single ounce of your cells were itching to grab him, despite his obviously bigger statesque frame, and scent his glands, chanting deliriously.
oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
but he can't be an omega— could he? he could. ofcourse he can, you add. but you've never felt such a strong pull towards an omega, let alone one you've never bonded with.
and then, there was the concept of true mates. they weren't impossible to have, just.. rare.
“you okay, agent?” fury asks, quietly. you nodded solemnly despite struggling to remain composed. you had to. lest your mate- you say that with internal glee and equal parts worry- thinks lowly of the way you present yourself.
suddenly, it was no longer just the nerves of working with world reknowned heroes that weighed like a ton on your shoulder, the pressure to do well and be liked by this particular group and their pack, even more brutal.
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the meeting proceeded without a hitch, after a momentary stare off concerning barnes and the new avenger; y/n y/l/n. if the avengers had noticed something, they didn't mention it. she was articulate in conveying her ideas, and when she introduced herself along with her capabilities, people hang off her every word interestingly.
bucky listened intently, but he was restless inside. his hindbrain was urging him to do all sorts of mating calls to appeal to his alpha, even the preconcieved title she already has in his own brain, he had no control of.
his omega recognized the small, and intoxicatingly divine smelling alpha, with the flawless face and even more perfect curves, coupled with her wits and talents, his.
how in the world does he deserve her? she's untainted, sharp and every sort of perfect, while he was fifty shades of screwed over.
but holy crap, if he weren't singing inside his head whenever you would glance at him in midst of speaking, and smile softly. it made all sorts of animals trample his stomach.
his head swam with the thoughts of you, and he barely registers fury's speech to disperse; everyone shuffling in their seat and slowly piling to the doors after shaking your hand, welcoming you to the team.
“you got this buddy,” steve was last to leave with an encouraging smile, making him breathe out shakily.
was he too fucking obvious? but no, he was sure they were discreet and their stares brief. it was the star spangled hero's intelligible guess with his eldest friend's behavior. he paid too much attention to what was being said in the meeting.
he clenches his fist unconsciously, insecurity gnawing at the forefront. he had a metal arm, he had done all sorts of things heinous. he was a terrible, terrible man and he would totally deserve it if—
“seargent.” your tone was a touch softer, making his head snap towards you. he was not aware of your footsteps drawing near, which is why he startles when he sees your distance, merely a few steps away from him. “are you okay?” worry laced your voice, noticing the distinct hints of something wrong in his scent.
“i-i'm fine.” he stammers out, cursing silently because of his inability to speak properly. get it together!
“yeah?” you tilt your head to the side, heartbeat hammering in your chest. “can i.. can i hold your hand?” the words slip out before you can coral it, knowing it to be such a weird request but it was either that, or your base instincts was shrieking to do some things unspeakable to your omega.
he reaches his flesh hand to you, sweating palms and all, yet you clasp it gently, intertwining your fingers carefully.
“thankyou,” you murmur shyly, smiling at him.
“don't worry about it.” he squeaks, with sa strained voice which made you giggle.
“i'm y/n.”
“bucky.” he replies, watching with wide eyes when you place his hands on your face. he almost preens at the soft flesh under his warm palm.
“nice to meet you, omega.” he couldn't help the yip of joy that escapes him, and if it were even possible, you glower with happiness. “i'm courting you, just so you know.” and that is how you made a grown ass man, blush a bright shade of red.
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buckies-dolle · a day ago
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Join us
+18 minors dni if you do you will be blocked!!!
bucky x fem!reader, steve x fem!reader, stucky x fem!reader
Summary: Steve doesn’t know what he walked in on, but he wants in on it
Warnings: couch sex, threesome, throat fucking, creampie.
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The movie hadn’t even been on 10 minutes. Bucky was already on you, massaging your boobs, pulling at your hips, kissing around you neck as you moaned into his ear.
He gently laid you down on the couch under him “fuck Bucky oh god”
He moved up closer and gently rubbed his beard against your neck, the friction making you go wild. You pulled him up by his hair and began kissing his neck and he undid your pants. “Need to feel you baby” you mumbled in between kisses.
Bucky pulled away quickly and pulled your trousers off, tossing them behind him and unbuckling his and pulling his cock out.
He placed his hand beside you head and slowly pushed is cock in. “Shit! Always so tight” your legs were up in the air, one around his waist and he began pumping in and out of you. “Oh baby you’re amazing”
You dropped your hand to his ass and squeezed, pulling him closer. Bucky brought his metal hand down to you clit and began rubbing in some tight circles. “fuck fuck fuck fuck Jamie so good” you moaned out as Bucky moaned in unison as you clenched around him
You were both so loud that you didn’t even hear the door click open behind you and Steve walk through
“What the shit!” Steve shouted as his hears filled with moans and his eye saw your legs thrown over the top and bare ass moving up and down.
As you heard Steve shouting, both your and Bucky’s head shot up, hair a mess and panting. “hi Steve” you blurted out as Bucky brought his hands over your exposed breasts. Steve quickly covered his eyes “w- what- why are you guys fucking on the couch”
“sorry Steve just kinda got caught in the moment” Bucky said sitting back, half pulling out of you. You looked at Steve and noticed the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Listen Steve, wer-“ you press your finger to Bucky’s plump lips,shutting him up.
“Steve?” you say with a little hint of seduction in your voice. He separated his fingers covering his eyes. “Would you like to join us?”
Steve almost passed out, then he got flustered. “Yeah i mean no, i do-“
“do you wanna fuck my throat?” you cut him off by talking a little bit louder then he was. Steve wore he was gonna cum in his pants. “yes please” he moaned out.
“C’mon get over here” he hastily moved in front of your mouth and shimmed his sweats down and grasped onto his cock and gave it a few strokes before tapping it on your lips. Bucky looked at with so much lust in his eyes as you took his best friends cock into your mouth. Quickly Bucky plunged his cock back into you making you moan around Steve’s cock, sending vibrations through him making him groan with pleasure.
“Fuck, Bucky, that’s an amazing mouth your girl has”
“I know” Bucky replied grabbing at one of your boobs. You release your hand from Bucky’s bicep and dropped it to Steve’s balls, and began rolling them in your hand. “Fuck, doll you treating Steve so well”
Bucky picked up the pace as he felt you clench around him. “Is my good girl gonna cum” you moaned a muffled “yes” around Steve cock. “fuck fuck, Buck i’m gonna cum too” Steve moaned
“go on, shoot it down her throat”
Steve moans and your muffled moans filled the room as Bucky continued to plow into you. “shit doll gonna cum” Bucky slammed his hips into you with a shudder. He collapsed down on top of you and snuggled your breasts. Steve knelt down bedside you and brushed some of your hair.
“You did really well” he whispered as Bucky fell asleep. “do you want me to bring him upstairs? maybe you guys can get some rest”
You brought you hand up and scratched his chin. “Only if you come with us” you said before wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him in for a deep, long kiss. Once you pulled away you pressed your forehead against yours “Join us”
-fin
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bonky-n-steeb · a day ago
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He can suck-
This is giving sugar daddy vibes and I can’t explain 🥴
warnings || sugar daddy Bucky, oral sex — 18+ only. MINORS DNI
JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!!
“Are you still upset with me?” He cooed as you swirled your tongue over the cream. You pouted and shrugged your shoulders before biting down into the cupcake. “Ummm… it’s so tasty!”
An instant smile bloomed on Bucky’s face. Though the cupcakes weren’t as tasty as the cakes Bucky bought for you, the fact that he had baked them just for you made the cupcakes sweeter than the rest. “Now don’t you think it’s time for daddy’s dessert?” He growled.
Your eyes widened comically when the meaning behind his words sank in. Bucky was quick to push your legs apart as you sat on the kitchen counter and he seated himself in between. He was quick to discard your panties and you hissed at the cool air.
But soon the feeling went away as Bucky’s warm tongue lapped at your folds. You ran your fingers over Bucky’s short locks as the cupcake slipped from your fingers and was forgotten on the counter. You licked your lips and smiled as Bucky drew pleasure from you with very precise details.
You had been a little upset with Bucky when he hadn’t turned up for your date. You did understand that he was a very busy man, but you had your reasons to be upset. But if Bucky hated one thing, it was seeing you sad, especially because of him.
Your toes curled as he flicked your throbbing clit before sucking on it. He was lapping up your juices and you could do nothing but hold onto the counter and Bucky for support. Your moans were reverberating against the pristine walls of the kitchen and the room was filled with the noise of steady lapping.
You threw your head back and arched your back as tendrils of pleasure travelled up your spine. Your legs trembled as his wet tongue fucked into your quivering hole. You moaned out Bucky’s name as you felt the coil in your tummy growing tighter by the minute.
Your eyes closed of their own accord as your nerves frizzled with strong currents when you came. Bucky knew just how to pluck pleasure out of you. Your entire body was trembling with aftershocks when Bucky pulled back to look up at you.
His beard was glistening with your release and you chewed your lip with slight embarrassment. Bucky smirked as he stood up and his hugs form made you seem small. He pulled you into a chaste kiss and you could taste yourself on his lips while he could taste the cupcake on yours.
“So, did you forgive me princess?”
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s-r-writes · a day ago
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strictly confidential (b.b. x reader)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader
summary: the two of you had agreed this was a private affair and nobody needed to know about this little arrangement of yours.
warnings: allusions to smut.
a/n: MY FIRST POST IN SO LONG OMG. just a smol drabble while I battle with writer's block for Vermillion Watch
as always, this is an even more fictional world than the fictional world where everybody is alive and gets along. because I said so.
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(gif not mine, credits to the owner/creator)
"when do you think he'll confess?" Sam asked, chewing on the sandwich he had made moments ago.
"it's Bucky. he might never confess at all." Natasha quipped.
"he needs a little push sometimes," Steve agreed. "the man can go his entire life not admitting to a single emotion."
"understatement of the year." Sam rubbed his hands on his sweatpants, eyes glimmering. "we should give him that little push, what do you say?"
"how?" your giggle interrupted the conversation as you and Bucky rounded the corner to the kitchen.
"hi guys," you said, waving a hand to the team and going over to make a bowl of cereal for you and coffee for Bucky.
"thanks, doll." Bucky said, taking the cup you handed him with a wide smile. the three people in the room stared at the exchange with baited breaths.
"get a room." Sam murmured when you returned his smile with yours just as big and goofy.
Bucky heard that, but let it go, red tinting his cheeks.
when breakfast was over and you and Bucky decided to hit the gym to train, Sam turned to Nat and Steve. "we gotta do something, those idiots make me gag."
+
the plan was set.
they would get you two to spar together, hoping a little action would get things heated between the two of you. it was a foolproof plan, according to Sam and Steve. Natasha felt indifferent to it.
the three decided to give you two a visit down at the gym, hoping to set the plan in motion.
FRIDAY's voice echoed the floor number as the elevator doors opened to you seated... on Bucky's lap?
"did- did our plan work-?" Steve stuttered out, looking at your and Bucky's sweaty bodies groping each other and kissing fervently.
Nat cleared her throat, you gasping and pushing away from Bucky. your breaths were coming out heavy, embarrassment flooding your eyes.
"I- what are you doing here?" you screeched, looking over at Bucky who was trying really hard to contain his arousal and not look at his friends.
"what are you two doing?" Sam asked, horrified. "oh god I gotta bleach my eyes out."
"isn't that what you wanted?" Bucky said, raising his eyebrows, confusing you.
"I didn't wanna see it!?"
"how long has this been going?" Steve asked, picture of a stern parent.
"long enough." Bucky replied, helping you stand up and letting you hide your face in his side.
"we didn't think it was important to let anybody know just now." you said, eyes downcast.
"why?! this is the single greatest news you could have ever told us." Sam all but shouted.
"gee, I wonder why." Natasha mumbled, catching your eyes and giving you a supportive smile.
weeellllll look who's back shjkdahdjakshjdas. this might be a lil too rushed cos, well, it's me. hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!
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