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cadavercowboy · 3 months

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Just Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).

The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.

You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together.

This is all Bucky’s fault.

Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.

It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you.

And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.

You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky.

But you can’t.

Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there.

In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether?

As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device.

Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night

You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else.

Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI

So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial.

Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you.

It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise.

If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.

“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.

You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.

“Send me your address.”

“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”

You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”

The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”

Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak.

Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep.

There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.

With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.

By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier.

Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.

You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you.

Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.

“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”

Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”

The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.

“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”

“So?”

Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.

“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.

It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”

“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.

You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.

“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”

Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question.

“I’m here to finish what I started.”

He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.

In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.

“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.

“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”

He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.

“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.

“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat.

Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.

“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.

“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”

Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.

“Buck. Please.”

You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.

“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”

Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.

A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.

As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him.

Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you.

Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.

Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy.

With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#ummmmm hi? LOL #coming back from unannounced hiatuses with dumb fics is my brand now i guess #just dipping my toes back in a teeny bit #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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welldonebeca · 2 months

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Glitter and Goo (iii)

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. WC: 1.8k words Warnings: Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Passionate sex. Breeding kink. Praising kink. Size difference. Cock warming. A/N: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... y'all know the deal. It's my birthday, you get smut.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

Bucky climbed onto the mattress and you grabbed him quickly, pulling him close and kissing him hungrily.

Yes, you wanted him to fill you. You needed it!

His cock brushed against your leg, and you spread your thighs.

"In me," you pleaded. "Bucky. Please."

You were so empty! You needed him.

But he didn't give it to you, no. Instead, Bucky buried his face in your neck, kissing it as his hand fondled your breast.

"Such beautiful tits," Bucky babbled. "Always loved your tits, wanted to kiss them so much."

He pinched your nipples, tugging on them.

"Big tits to feed my big babies," he grunted. "Gonna nurture them with them, right?"

You nodded, swallowing down, and whined when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

"Please," you whined. "Need you!"

Why was he being so mean? You needed him inside you!

Bucky took his lips away, pressing your tits together.

"Gotta prepare you," Bucky bit your nipples. "You're too small."

No you weren't!

You reached down to his cock, hoping you could tempt him into getting inside you, but stopped, shocked, when you wrapped your fingers around him and couldn't close your fingers around him.

Oh.

James put his hands between your legs, and you whimpered when he parted your folds with his fingers.

"You're so wet," he purred. "Just for me, right? Just for my cock?"

His fingers travelled up, circling your clit as his teeth ran over your nipple, biting and sucking.

"Bucky," you whined, squirming under him, the smell of his skin clouding your thoughts a little.

You needed him, you needed his cock! Not his fingers.

Bucky let your tits go, his nose moving between them, his tongue licking your skin.

"Gonna make your tits swell," he promised. "Fill with milk to feed my child."

You moaned at the idea. God, he would put such big babies in you, right? Big healthy babies!

"Please," you begged. "Want your cock inside me. Want you to breed me."

Bucky circled your clit a bit more.

"But I need-"

"I need you!" you pleaded. "I need you, Bucky. Please. Inside me!"

He stopped, and looked at your face, giving you time to put your hands on his cheeks.

"Please, Bucky," you pleaded. "You said you'd breed me, right? I want you, I need you!"

His eyes softened completely, and he nodded weakly before moving up.

You turned a bit for him, though, showing him your ass, and he moaned darkly.

"Want me to fuck you from behind?" he grunted. "Fuck, baby..."

"Please," you insisted. "Bucky!"

He embraced you from behind, placing his cock weeping cock over your pussy, looking so big from where you were looking that you knew you'd feel him there for days.

He pushed the head in, and you moaned at finally - fucking finally - being able to fill him.

"Yes," you cried. "Yes, Bucky, yes."

His cock slipped into you in the easiest way, as if you were only waiting for it your whole life. As if you were waiting just for him.

"You're so wet, baby," he grunted into your neck. "So welcoming!"

Bucky wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you in close as he moved slowly and gently.

Too slowly and too gently.

"Please," you whined. "Fuck me! Please!"

He held you in place.

"Gotta be careful," Bucky pinched your nipple. "Can't hurt you."

You tugged onto his arm, nearly digging your nails into his arm.

"No," you pleaded. "Want you to hurt me, please."

Bucky froze.

"Doll?" he asked softly.

You pressed your ass against him, trying to get his cock to bottom out inside you.

"Wanna feel you forever," you pleaded. "Please, Bucky!"

It was enough to break him.

James pulled his hips back, slamming his hips into yours and filling you completely before adjusting behind you.

He fucked you in his earnest, fucking you hard and deep, and you moaned in delight.

"Mine," he growled into your neck. "You're just mine."

His arm came around you, and you gasped when he placed his metal arm over your body, with his hand framing your cunt.

"Gonna fill you with cum," he promised darkly. "Breed you, show everyone you're mine."

Bucky adjusted you, until his fingers were on your folds and your clit, and you cried out when you felt it vibrating.

"Yes," you cried. "Bucky!"

"Say it," he twisted your nipple with his free hand. "Say you're mine!"

You clung to his arms.

"I'm yours," you cried. "Bucky, I'm yours."

He half growled, face buried in your neck, and your eyes fluttered closed when you felt him throbbing inside your pussy, filling you up suddenly.

But he didn't stop. If anything, Bucky fucked you harder.

Your eyes nearly crossed he continued to move, pushing his cum deep inside you, and you could feel the knot of pleasure growing in your belly.

"Like this?" he moaned into your neck. "Wanted me to fuck you like that, baby? Bruise that pussy with me big cock?"

"Yes," you cried.

Bucky pressed his vibrating hand to your clit.

"Fuck," you felt your body shaking. "Bucky! Bucky, please!"

"Want me to make you cum?" he pressed his lips to your ear. "Want me to make you cum while I breed you, pretty girl? While I give you a baby?"

You nodded, feeling your pussy already fluttering, your body already so fucking ready.

He angled his hand, moving in circles around your clit and angling his cock.

He brushed against the sweetest spot inside, and you cried in pleasure when he did. Bucky adjusted, and with each stroke of his cock hit the perfect spot, making you melt and cry.

"Yes, yes," you cried. "Bucky!"

His touches were insistent, unstopping, and you came.

Things got blurry after that, and you couldn't focus on how many times you came and he came.

Bucky fucked his cum deep inside you, always thick and hot, and you welcomed it happily

Oh, how you wished he would breed you there and then.

He fed you and made sure you drank water in between fucking, though you were pretty sure FRIDAY was the one to remind you two to about it.

By the time you were out of the horny fog, it was time to land the ship.

"Shh, sweet girl," Bucky squeezed you in place with his metal arm. "Gotta keep you safe as we land."

You were sat right on his cock, just your lab coat covering your ass. Bucky was mean to you, making you sit there while he took control of the ship, and if it was the easiest thing you could do while he worked, when it wasn't.

It absolutely wasn't.

You'd fucked for the two whole days, and maybe a little more. Maybe he had decreased the speed of the ship when you were a little closer to Earth so you could see the moon as you came.

This was the last time you two would be fucking in a while.

Two days had left you quite sore.

The effects of the pollen and goo were gone, and while you two hadn't talked, it was a silent understanding that you two were on the same page.

You held onto him when you felt the ship landing, shaking a bit like a plane would.

Bucky only let you go when the ship landed completely.

"FRIDAY, make sure we have a few minutes of privacy," he requested.

"How long, Agent Barnes?"

He thought for a moment.

"20 minutes," he requested. "It's enough."

The system darkened the window in front of you and Bucky moved you gently, caressing your cheek gently.

"You want me to make you cum now, baby?" he offered. "I can just pull out."

You shook your head, hiding your face in his chest. There was no way you could possibly cum anymore.

"Want you to cum in me," you requested, half whining. "Please."

He chuckled.

"What an eager girl, my sweetheart is," Bucky adjusted you, fucking you with shallow thrusts. "Just want cum, baby?"

You nodded, bouncing the littlest bit on his lap.

Fuck, if you ever had to continue with this, you'd have to get an IUD. You couldn't go back to condoms after having his cum freshly fucked into you, you just couldn't.

He held you close and tightly, kissing your temple and cheek sweetly, caressing your back as you bounced gently over him.

Bucky used you with the gentleness of a man who'd learned every bit of your body and pleasure, and you let out a soft moan when he filled you, at last.

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

…

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Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 1 year

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Polyamorous: Material List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes/ Stucky x reader

Smut*

The First kiss

*The first touch*

*Moving In *

*The day they left for war *

Found you

*The Day Stark found out *

*Big Change *

The Train

The Plane

Alone

Unfortunate Sequences of Events

I know her

The Restaurant Part 1

The Restaurant Part 2

*It’s me *

You can keep her

He’s okay with that

Mama loves me

Kissing Captain

Kissing Winter

Healing

*Hurt *

*We’ll Wait *

Memories

Prude

* Whore *

Put in her place

The day Stark Jr. Found out

Now you know

Nursing

*Like a Virgin *

*Morning After *

The Catacombs

Off with her head

Grieving the Insane

*Let me make it up to you *

*Punishment *

Spiderling pt1

Spiderling pt2

Twentieth-century love

The new we can imagine

*Connection *

Please, marry me

Walk me

Stand with me

Final touches

I Do

*Honeymoon*

*A Moment of Paradise *

Pictures from Paradise

The Fever

The bad days

Let’s talk about it

*Practice makes perfect pt1 *

*Practice makes perfect pt2 *

Seed

Unknown Stolen

unfulfilled Duties

Talking Emotion

Next Step

Holy Shit!!

First steps to hope

She’s Awake

Nicknames

The Mother and The Father

The Boy

The Name Game

Talking

Not Ready

No Boy

*Returning lust *

*Seven Days (pt1) *

*Seven Days (pt2) *

*Seven Days (pt3) *

* Seven Days (Final Part) *

Tears of Joy

*Apple Pie Life*

Epilogue

*Bonus Chapter*

Howard Stark's Video

Peggy Carter

*Let's Play a Game *

*8th anniversary*

Forgotten Memories

*Interruptions *

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chrisdrysdale · 2 years

Note

Comfort/loving from avenger/best friend bucky? Some creep on an undercover mission gets extra handsy and you pull off everything perfectly but it all hits you once you take a hot shower and still feel his nasty touch and words. Bucky helps you forgot all that - 🦾

Touch

+18 minors dni if you do you will be blocked

warnings: Creep, nonconsensual touches, loving Bucky.

( @buckyalpine I’m so sorry this took so long)

He picks up his phone. It’s Natasha. She lets him know that it was a shit mission an that something happened but you won’t talk to anyone about it.

When the quinjet lands, Bucky is first on the platform to greet you. Once he spots you, he runs over to you and tries to bring you in for a hug, but you just moved to the side of him, saying that you stink and desperately need a shower.

“Sorry, Buck, just desperately need a shower, I’ll give you after ‘kay?”

“Okay sweets, can I wait in your room” Bucky desperately needed you right now, he missed you so much and with both you and Steve being gone, it’s really took a toll on him.

He followed you up to your bedroom and sat on the bed as you began showering. That’s when it all hit you.

You were undercover as a new hydra agent, a new one on the field. You were wearing a black tac suit with the hydra logo printed on the your chest. One of the hydra agents, got a little bit to close and comfortable with you, touching over your breasts and ass, before trying to slip is hand down between your legs, you told him to stop but he just kept going, luckily it stopped when the rest of you team pull up the building, giving you the sign that it was a success.

In the spur of the moment you ended up shooting that agent in the foot and making your way back to the jet to go home. Everyone kept pestering you to the way back asking if something went wrong but you kept it to yourself but they just kept going, until you were practically in tears just wanting them to stop. That’s when Natasha called Bucky.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying as the water washed over you. You finished cleaning yourself and stepping out, your sobs and sniffles becoming louder in the room now that the shower has stopped.

Then there’s a knock “Sweets, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good, Buck, i’ll be out in a minute”

You quickly dry yourself and throw you hair up into a bun and put your pyjamas on. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face all red and puffy from crying. Just looking at yourself, made you shiver. It was like you could still feel his hands all over you. You quickly wiped your eyes and walked out, Bucky standing at the door, anxiously.

When you stepped out, he noticed your puffy eyes and red face. “Do you wanna talk about it” he asked you while holding his hands out to hug you.

“In a minute, I’m sorry Buck, do you mind if I don’t hug you right now”

“Of course not, bed?

You nodded as you made your way over and crawled in. After a moment you sat up in the bed and looked at Bucky, he copied you and sat up. “One of - one of the agent at the base, they eh, they touched me”

“Oh jesus, sweets, I’m so fucking sorry, oh god and then I tried to touch you, shit!” Bucky felt a massive wave of guilt wash over him.

“No, no Bucky it’s okay, you didn’t know”

Bucky really didn’t know what to do, physical touch was his way of comfort, he wasn’t sure what to now that he couldn’t. “Where did he touch?”

“Just my boobs and my ass, just before the bomb went off, he stuck his hand between my legs and started rubbing but stopped when the explosion happened” he could see you start to tear up again just thinking about it

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I hope he dead now”

You gave him a little chuckle holding your hand out wanting him to take it. He took it and looked at you “Can I kiss it” you nodded as he brought the hand up to his lips, giving it a quick peck.

You scooted back down in the bed and wrapped yourself up in the sheets, turning away from Bucky. “G’night Bucky”

“night sweets”

It was about 3 in the morning, you were still awake but feeling a lot better and the incident. You rolled over to Bucky, peacefully sleeping and tapped him on the shoulder. “Bucky” you whispered, causing him to stir. “Hey sweets” he said groggily “you okay”

You moved closer to him. “Could I have that hug now?”

Bucky’s face lit up with glee “Of course you can sweets c’mere” He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled into his chest, he began kissing the top of your head as you giggles. “What?“ he laughed out

“I shot him in the foot”

“Atta girl” Bucky said before snuggling his head down into you and falling back asleep.

#bucky fanfiction #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #my sweet things #questions #asks #anon #my 🦾#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel

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shreddedparchment · 2 years

Text

Perennial Pt.21

Faith

10/06/2022

Pairing: Bucky x Florist!Reader Word Count: 2,420

Warnings: blood, violence, angst, pining, cuteness, language

Featured Flower: None

A/N: I can’t believe I was able to get this one out tonight. It’s highly unedited. Sorry. I’m still in a lot of pain. Lots going on in my life right now but I want to focus on this chapter. If you read it, let me know what you think and if you enjoyed it! What did you like about it? Distract me, y’all. xoxo

After a few days of Bucky’s absence, you’re worried.

Finally, at the end of the week, he sends you a text.

Bucky: Miss me?

You: Duh! Where are you?

Bucky: Sorry, kid. Better to keep that under wraps until things are done.

You: Which will be when?

Bucky: I don’t know.

You: Bucky…

Bucky: I know, sugar. Trust me.

You: Why did Steve ask me for my keys?

Bucky: He and Tony are checking out the apartment to make sure it’s safe. They’re gonna install a security system. Top of the line. No one is getting anywhere near you again without me and the entire Avengers team knowing.

You: Wouldn’t it be easier to just have you with me all the time?

Bucky: I wanna come home, kid. I’m sorry I didn’t text sooner. And I probably won’t be texting with any more frequency. If anything, you might hear from me less.

You: I know. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. You just got back and now you’re gone again.

You: Kinda feels like I saw you more before we started dating. Maybe we should break up and then I can see you more?

Bucky: …

You: A joke, you grump.

Bucky: Jokes are supposed to be funny.

You: And a new couple is supposed to be happy. I’m just trying to bring some levity to an inescapable situation, okay? You know damn well that now that I have you there’s no way I’m letting you go. Do you know how long I watched you from afar? Wishing?

There’s a pause and you think he might be done texting but then your phone dings again.

Bucky: When I get home, I’m gonna make sure you know how much I miss you.

You: Sap. You threatening to dick me down?

Bucky: Pfft, do you have to say it like that?!

You: lol How else should I say it? I want you all the time.

Bucky: Nowhere near as much as I want you.

You: Wanna bet?

Bucky: Once your place is done, you need to make sure you stay there from now on. It’ll be safer than mine.

You: Fine. But I’m taking your pillow. And some shirts.

Bucky: Take them. Whatever you need.

Bucky: Shit, I gotta go.

You: Okay. Bye.

Bucky: Love you, kid.

You: I love you. Be safe.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two Months Later

“Wow, apparently the corruption went all the way into the royal family,” Kamala exclaims in quiet awe as she watches the TV you’d installed in the corner of the coffee shop.

Normally you have it set to some relaxing music that you know your flowers enjoy just as much as your coffee patrons, but as you’re closing, you give Kamala reign over the remote.

“Is this what Bucky has been doing?” She wonders, turning to look over at you as you finish counting the money in the till.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard from him in three weeks. And honestly, he can’t really tell me anything about what he’s doing. Safety and all that shit.”

Kamala shuts the TV off and moves to put the remote in its spot by the register. She’s smirking, her young face full of amusement as she leans against the counter.

“You miss him lots, huh?” She guesses.

You sigh, realizing that the bitterness you’re feeling at his lack of contact is because you truly do miss him more than you ever thought you could. Even when he’d disappeared you hadn’t missed him like this.

Dating him is making things harder.

“So, I guess that means you have no idea when he’ll be home, huh?” She asks, seemingly already knowing the answer from the tone of her voice.

“Nope. Just gotta wait.” It’s the waiting that’s killing you.

Knowing he’s out there somewhere. Knowing that he’s alive and not calling. Not texting.

And he is alive because you won’t let yourself think anything else.

You can hear Kamala talking as you wrap up the profits for the day and slip it into a deposit bag. She follows you as you place it in the safe in your office and make sure it’s locked securely before shutting off the light and getting your bag.

She’s still chirping away about Steve and her trip to the tower as you’re pulling down the metal shutters of your shop. With a sigh, she takes the keys from you and bends down to lock it for you before placing the keys back in your hand.

“You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” She asks, not really waiting for an answer because she already knows you weren’t focused.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, remorse and worry lacing your slight bitterness from before. “I’m just…I want him home.”

Kamala nods, adjusts her bag, and then reaches out to pat your shoulder.

“I have math homework. Bye, boss.”

You watch her turn on her heel and march–well, almost skip–off into the city. “See ya.”

You stare until she’s a small figure in the distance and just as expected, just as Steve said, you see the glimmer of her power shine for a split second before it zips up into the sky above the tall buildings.

She’s still so young and yet she has that much power. Such a heavy burden for such a young girl. Worse that she doesn’t exactly see her gift like the heavy responsibility that it really is.

You can’t blame her. At her age, you’d have probably been just as excited to stretch your muscles and see what you could do had you been gifted with some type of power.

A strange yearning takes hold in your chest as you turn to head up into your building, wishing that you really had been given powers of some kind. At least then you could be with Bucky when he leaves for this long.

You’re so wrapped up in your missing Bucky that you don’t notice the looming figure resting against the wall beside the elevator doors as you exit on the top floor. Your brain, on some level, notices the shape in your periphery, but you don’t turn until the accented voice calls your name.

You freeze, keys clutched more tightly in your fist and turn to look at the familiar Sokovian.

He looks like shit. His hair is a mess sticking up in several directions and laced with grime and some type of sticky clear substance. His long fur lined coat is frayed and torn, smeared with dirt. His pants are no better. The purple mask clutched in his hand is ripped in several places so that if he were to put it one of his eyes would peek out unobstructed, cheekbone and temple too.

“Where is he?” you gasp, unable to catch your breath as your stomach drops and your chest goes cold.

Zemo swallows, pushes off of the wall and approaches you with surprising calm.

“Come,” he urges you and reaches to take hold of your forearm.

You don’t resist as he pulls you back into the elevator and ride it all the way down to the first floor. He steers you towards the back alley exit, releasing your arm when he’s sure you’ll continue to follow him.

Neither of you speak as your hands grow cold and sweaty. Your neck prickles as dread fills your belly and Zemo continues to stalk through the dark city streets.

It’s probably minutes–though it feels like hours–of walking later when Zemo finally stops in front of a rusted warehouse door, his eyes scanning the area quickly before he ducks inside and you match his urgency and shove into the darkness behind him then round him as he shuts out the dim city lights.

You can hear the dust of the abandoned space shift beneath his heavy boots as he walks around you again and when his hand closes around your forearm again you let him pull you along through the darkness.

Silhouettes of broken crates, old metal lockers, warped metal stairs, and the smell of rust surrounds you. There’s a faint dripping somewhere to your left as you pass an open doorway but inside is more darkness that you only glance at as Zemo leads the way.

The heaviness in the air fills your nostrils, the dustmotes kicked up by your feet tickle your nose and you somehow manage to resist sneezing as Zemo stops again, this time a long vertical silver line shines ahead.

He hesitates then after a moment drags you the rest of the way to the silver line which you realize is light seeping through the crack between two large wooden doors.

He knocks and a shift on the other side blocks out the shine for a second, the outline of a masked figure darkens the space before the doors are pulled open.

“What the hell are you doing?” The aggression in the masked man’s voice makes you bristle but you have no time to be offended by the curl of his lip as he watches Zemo and waits for an explanation.

You’re busy devouring the space behind him, the large expanse and the single metal gurney at the center of the empty warehouse where a dark figure lays too still.

“What I promised,” Zemo says.

You see a shine of dark metal on the gurney and your gasp catches in your throat as your eyes sting painfully. Your feet move on their own, dragging you forward into a run towards the figure but before you can even make it three steps a tight grip takes hold on your upper arm and yanks you back roughly.

“Stop,” the helmeted man growls. “What is this?”

“Let me go,” you demand, no fear in your voice. Only anger at being stopped.

“I haven’t put a bullet between your eyes out of respect for the acquaintance we share. If you do not wish to end up on a missing person’s report, I suggest you release the woman.”

Zemo’s threat is real but still the masked man doesn’t let go.

“Walker…” Zemo warns.

Another two seconds pass and you can feel John Walker’s hand slowly loosen. You pull out of his grip and race to the gurney with watering eyes.

“This is an unnecessary risk,” the U.S. Agent says.

“If that were you laying there, he would not have hesitated to bring your wife.”

John makes some type of noise in the back of his throat but doesn’t say anything again.

Bucky looks like shit too. Just like Zemo, only worse. He’s so pale, his lips almost blue in the dim light that filters in from the long line of horizontal windows along the top of the warehouse walls. As coated in dust as they are, it isn’t much.

“Oh my god, Bucky…” you sob quietly, your heart breaking at the cuts to his beautiful face. His right arm is broken and crudely slung across his chest in what looks like torn up old shirts or sheets.

As you explore his body you notice a long gash along his right thigh, a stab wound just underneath his ribs on the right, and his face is black and blue in the spots that are not pale as a ghost.

You sweep his greasy black locks out of his sweaty, dirty face and bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out.

“What happened?” You ask the two men behind you.

“We were moments from victory,” Zemo begins. “The last of the threat was nearly contained when Barnes noticed the trap set for us. He saved us both with the last moments he had before the bomb went off.”

You sob as your hands flutter pointlessly around his handsome, grimy face.

“When the dust settled,” Walker says, sounding bored by his words as he speaks them. “He was just laying there. Didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. We were able to finish the job but Bucky didn’t and hasn’t woken up in a week. It took us forever to get him back here unconscious and under the radar.”

The way Walker talks about the ordeal of getting Bucky home it sounds as if he’s annoyed by the inconvenience. You almost reach for Bucky’s knife at his hip and throw it at him but resist the urge and instead start rifling through your purse.

“I would have taken him to your apartment,” Zemo says softly. “But we thought perhaps moving him again might do more damage. His pulse is very weak and we’re not sure why he isn’t healing. I think something is suppressing his abilities. Normally I would rejoice in the new possibility of nullifying his type of strength but despite our turbulent history, Barnes is not a bad man. I promised to make certain that you two were reunited.”

Zemo sure did keep his word. Your fingers move at lightning speed through your contacts and you press your phone to your ear as it rings frustratingly slow.

“Who are you calling?” Walker asks, sounding irritated.

“Steve,” you tell them.

“Then this is where I leave you,” Zemo says. “I have kept my word. I hope you find a way to save him. Truly.”

When you turn to thank him for at least making sure you two managed to get back together you find he’s already gone.

Strangely, Walker moves towards you and unholsters the pistol at his hip. He removes the safety and then turns it around to offer you the handle.

“You know how to use one of these, right?”

You nod.

“I can’t be here when they get here. If anyone asks…”

“I get it,” you take the gun, fingers tingling at the powerful weight.

Walker gives you a nod, gives Bucky one last glance, then turns and leaves through the same doors that Zemo had brought you in through.

The phone finally stops ringing and Steve’s sleepy voice calls your name, “What’s wrong?”

“Steve,” you sob loudly finally.

“Where are you? What’s happened?” Steve demands, already breathing hard as you’re sure he’s pulling on his clothes and heading out the door.

“Bucky…” you begin. “Help me, Steve.”

“Turn on your bracelet,” he orders. “We’re on our way.”

The line goes dead and you reach with wobbly fingers to pinch the repaired silver button on your bracelet. It warms under your touch, vibrates once very quickly, and you hope that Steve and the others are fast enough to get here before you fall apart completely.

#bucky x florist!reader #flowershop au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky x you fanfiction #marvel au #avengers au #perennial #perennial pt21

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hertzwritings · 2 years

Text

The high seas

A/N: The way Tumblr kind of connects people truly astounds me. Through my writings, I met this amazing, sweet, kind, loving and downright perfect person who puts up with my weird ramblings and even weirder headcanons. @buckyshattergirl honest to all the gods in all the universes, I love you and you make me feel all asjkhfdæfdgsfk. Thank you for you.

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic – anything you want, really, the sky is the limit!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me, and I have none.

MASTERLIST

SEBASTIAN STAN MASTERLIST

REQUESTS/ASK ME ANYTHING

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Contains: language, pirate-y things, suspension of disbelief just a little bit, mentions of sirens, mentions of blood, mentions of swords, Pirate!Bucky (because that is indeed a warning in and of itself), SMUT (MINORS DNI), just a quickie ish, p in v, unprotected sex

W.C.: 4.470 (SORRY)

The High seas

Captain James “Bucky” Barnes was many things. Feared, enormously talented with both a sword and a pistol, a brilliant navigator and his name traveled further than his ship did. He stood often at the rutter, salty sprays of seafoam coating his face as his eyes, that matched the sky above him and the sea under him, wandered to the far-off horizon, always looking for the next adventure and plunder.

When The Winter Soldier came across a shipwreck near Clew Bay and he saw a woman resting on jagged rocks, his brows furrowed. A white shirt, slightly wet from the sprays of the sea against the rocks, flowed in the wind, while a leather corset – the brown tones of it blackened by use – rested on her torso, male trousers on her legs and high boots. She looked like she was expecting them. Steve had looked questionable at the sight of a lone survivor, especially a woman, sitting on the rocks surrounded by pieces of wood and dead shipmates, but Bucky had barked an order to let her on the ship. The men didn’t dare disobey his order, even if they believed her cursed.

She hadn’t spoken for a few days, but at first sight of rebellion from the crew, she had squashed any and all inklings to her being nothing more than bad luck, when she threw her dagger and caught a feather to the mast, whilst she still stood near the rutter, eyes barely looking back at the mast. Her eyes searched the sea more often than his did.

From that day, nobody dared say anything. Even Sam had once spoken loudly that it seemed like she was good luck, seeing as they hadn’t had troubles with enemy-ships, nor the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of the water.

Bucky was inclined to agree.

He learned her name was Y/N, and that her ship had unfortunately gone down near Clew Bay because of a foolish navigator, that followed a siren’s song instead of his eyes. Many men had lost their life to the sea like that.

When they docked at St. Mary’s Island, the sun slowly setting, he let his eyes follow Y/N as she wandered off the ship to the nearest inn, her fingers twirling her silver dagger. He hummed and followed her and his crew, his long leather jacket flowing in the soft breeze, his boots echoing around the wooden docks. Yes, he was, in any man’s eye, frightening and his demeanor was more than enough to scare off anybody who tried to approach him. But not Y/N. She had followed him with her eyes through the inn and finally given him a small nod of respect when he sat down. He nodded back. He didn’t care about her gender; she was a brilliant navigator and an even better fighter. There was nothing to judge.

Sam had sat heavily next to him and looked at Y/N through narrowed eyes as she drank, seemingly very bored with the rowdy crowd around her. “Sometimes I find myself thinking that she’s not quite from this world, Buck.” He said. Sam’s eyes never did him a disservice. He spotted most if not all things, most people wanted to hide – it made him the perfect man for scouting and finding flaws and chinks in the armor. It was the reason he was called Falcon in common tongue. “Hm. What makes you say that?” Bucky amused the conversation, eyes on her. He was a man of few words and even fewer, when he found his eyes on her; she was a vision, truly, and when her hair whipped around her face, her eyes closed against the bright sun, he was almost ready to take her to his quarters. Sam shrugged.

“If I knew, I’d tell you. Just know I’m not the only one thinking it.” He said in a low voice, looking to Tony and Scott, who were whispering conspiratorially and glancing at Y/N – she had seen it as well, tipping her glass with a smirk to them.

A grimy man, dressed in the Queen’s uniform long since discolored by drink and wear, stalked to her and Bucky nearly got out of his chair to kill the man, who put his grimy paws on Y/N, but Sam held him back. “Watch.” He pointed to her hand, that held a tight grip on her dagger. “A woman sitting here, acting like…” The man hiccupped. “You are worth nothing more than what’s between your legs.” He sapt at her and Bucky saw read, as the glob of spit hit her cheek. She calmly wiped it from her face and turned her body slightly, a soft, dangerous smirk on her face. “Well, then.” Before he could see what had happened, the man screamed out, her silver dagger buried at the knuckle of his finger – she nudged it back and forth with slender fingers, slowly, but surely, severing the finger from the hand. “Touch me again, speak to me again, and I’ll make sure you see nothing more than the darkest pits of the sea.” She stood and threw the finger out through a window, before sheathing her dagger again. She nodded to her crew. “Boys.” And with that, she left.

Bucky had never experienced love. He had experienced several women during his life, but only for a night or an hour, hobbled somewhere in the back of an inn or in the dark corners of the streets, knees bruised and rum running thicker than blood in his veins. But never love. At least not until this moment, when Y/N left the inn with a saunter that rivalled his own and a smirk plastered on her face. Sam chuckled and Bucky shot him a glare. Steve laughed loudly on the other side of him. “Well, captain, seems as though you’ve got yourself in trouble.” Bucky didn’t answer but gathered his belt and pistol, trailing after her into the darkened night. She was wandering away from the docks, headed towards the small cove along the shore – her hair shone in a million diamonds when the moon hit it.

He kept his pace slow and distanced from her, his coat billowing against the wooden planks, he so often had walked. She almost disappeared in the darkness, but the moon shone brightly enough to illuminate the sand under her, and he settled on a large, flat rock near her, still hidden by shadows and the cover of night.

She toed her boots off, and as the wind died down, he heard her sigh contently as the water lapped at her toes.

It wasn’t exactly news to him that he might have feelings that were more than just loyalty to a crewmate towards her. He had noticed it more and more the longer she had stayed on the ship, how he would subconsciously drift towards her, their hands almost touching as they strolled the deck, keeping lookout during storms. She had given him the last orange before they reached St. Mary’s with a shrug and told him that he looked like he needed the comfort. She had rushed to his quarters one night when she had overheard his screams from another nightmare, that seemed to plague him less and less the more she was around. Her entire being called to him in the same, gentle and alluring way as the sea did; she was simply unavoidable, deep as the chasms in the seafloor and as much in uproar as the darkest of storms, but it made him feel at ease. He knew her fire and her spirit just as much as he knew his own.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a soft tune hummed in the very air around him; he blinked a few times, trying to gather his bearings, but the song was enticing and hard to hold from his ears. He almost wanted to walk to the sea and swim.

His eyes flew open and quickly dug through his coat pockets and withdrew two lumps of wax, rolled perfectly to fit his ears – a siren, and Y/n was unprotected and alone. He rushed to stand, putting the wax in his ears, when he saw her; a beautiful woman, her face hovering just above the waterline, eyes trained on Y/n, who simply stood still, looking at the siren in the water. He was almost running, when he felt the hum of her song stop and he stilled himself – Y/n was sitting down just near the edge of the water, her eyes on the siren… And she was smiling.

He slowly removed the wax again, the rush of the world coming back to him, and he heard Y/N’s voice clear as the blinding sun – he would hear that voice through maddening crowds, if he was being truthful.

“You shouldn’t be singing so close to the docks.” Y/n said, and Bucky took another step forward, the sand shifting under his feet. “You shouldn’t be alone.” The siren responded, her voice alluring and dangerous. Y/N laughed. “No, I probably shouldn’t. good thing, I’m not.” She turned to face Bucky, who stopped dead in his tracks. “Well? Coming?” She asked, patting the soft sand next to her. The siren hissed. “Easy, Frey, he’s…” She looked at him again. “He’s trustworthy.” He slowly made his way to her, the siren’s eyes on him, and sat down next to Y/n. A little closer than he normally would. The siren’s eyes glowed reddish and her hair billowed around her face in the soft waves. “Now, you bring news?” Y/N asked her. The siren tore her gaze from Bucky and focused back on Y/N. “I do. The ship known as red Skull’s has been spotted near Tortuga. I cannot say by who…” She glanced at Bucky again. “But I know they’re looking for a certain treasure.” “Amaro Pargo.” Y/n whispered, her eyes alight with the promise of new adventures. “That is thought to be lost, isn’t it?” Bucky asked. The siren tilted her head to the left. “Perhaps. Perhaps it’s only lost to those, who cannot find it.” Bucky restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Sirens were, apparently, full of immeasurable riddles. “Hm.” Y/n hummed. “Can you lead?” She asked the siren earnestly. “Me?” She looked back at Y/N. “Have I not led you to more treasure than you can hold? Helped with more enemies than you could’ve hoped for?” Y/n nodded and Bucky finally understood why Y/N had been such a good navigator, how all ships seemed lost when they found them, their crew dazed. “Frey…” Y/n sighed. “I expect nothing from you, but I am asking, pleading that you help.” The siren sighed and looked to the docks. “I will try.” She nodded once, very strangely, to Bucky. “Man.” It seemed like a goodbye. “Fare thee well.” She nodded in the same strange way to Y/N, and then she was gone with the swell of the water.

They sat in silence for a while, Bucky trying to figure out what had just happened. “She has been… Sort of my companion for years.” She said into the silence. “Huh?” She ran a hand over her hair, tugging at a braid. “She came to my aid when I boarded my first ship. She had seen me board, seen the way the crew looked at me…” She glanced at Bucky. “let’s just say it wasn’t a coincidence that I was the only survivor, when you found me.” Ah. “And she… Helps you navigate?” He asked, intrigue coloring his words. He never knew sirens to have any type of relationship that didn’t end in death and the last breath full of salty water. She shrugged. “Not really. She tells me where there’s trouble. If her voice is left, I veer right. She might be a companion of sorts, but she’s still very dangerous and I’d prefer her not to become too close to you.”

Bucky didn’t outwardly show his emotions, if it wasn’t anger. But now, with those words, he couldn’t help the heat on his cheeks and the way his lips twitched.

“Alright, then.” He stood and offered his hand. She took it and pulled herself to her feet, their chests touching as he looked down at her. “Shall we find a lost treasure with the aid of a siren?”

----------

It had been a hard journey. The sea was unrelenting and with a swaying deck, rain falling in heavy, angry drops, he fought several of Hydra’s crewmen. The clanging of swords hung heavy around the ship, the smell of gunpowder stifled in his lungs, and yet, as he cut another man down, his eyes wandered to the vixen on the lower deck. She was grinning maddeningly, her eyes blazing with fire as she circled two men, that towered at least a head over her. She had blood-spatter on her white shirt, that clung to her chest, nipples pebbling under the cool rain. She lunged and blood flowed from the man’s throat, his crewmate’s mouth wide in shook as the woman danced around him. Bucky lunged and cut the second man down, who had swung his sword too wide to be able to block him, and he saw red when a man neared her back. He jumped on the railing and grabbed a rope – but before he swung, he saw Frey’s eyes peer up at him, a wicked smile on her lips.

“MEN! WAX!!” He shouted through the mask, he wore over his lower part of his face, and all as one swirled and pulled wax from their pockets, ready for whatever carnage Frey was about to bring. They had seen it before – Sam had even hollered that he knew Y/N had been different, when they first saw Frey talk to Y/N with her soft voice. Most of them seemed surprisingly fine with the prospect of a siren trailing their ship. The few that didn’t, happened to simply disappear overnight.

He nearly didn’t have time to get the wax in before the song started, and he swung down from the rope to Y/N’s side, where he stood back-to-back with her, fending off whoever dared near her. He felt the song in his chest and saw the men slowly lower their swords, daze already in their eyes. He grinned wickedly at them, spotting Red Skull hiding in shadows by his own ship; he was steering away, leaving the men he had on the Soldier, behind. All of them wandered around to the rails, leaning over the side. Frey swam gently through the swell of the waves, her eyes a perfect mirror of the color of the sea, now, and heads popped up around her; her song had called the few sirens nearby to her, joining her. Slowly, one by one, the men toppled to their watery grave, being pulled under by beautiful women who turned to hauntingly, beautiful and terrifying creatures as soon as their prey landed in their arms. Bucky watched, mesmerized by the sight of men going under, when he felt a hand on his arm. Y/N. She looked up at him with wide eyes and wiped her thumb across his cheekbone in an intimate gesture unlike anything, she had done before – her thumb came away covered in blood. The other crewmen looked everywhere else, trying their best to ignore whatever happened between their captain and Y/N, all of them still slightly on edge by the sirens that crowded their ships. Y/N looked behind him and nodded once, gesturing for him to remove the wax. He did, the thrumming of the song still embedded in his chest, but he turned to the sea and looked to Frey, who smiled wickedly, sharp teeth catching on her lips. “Thank you.” “Thank me not, pirate.” She disappeared under the water.

All the men drank happily after another victory, their shanties roaring from the brig. Bucky sat in his quarters, fiddling a small dagger and stared out of the open window into the darkness, when a few clatters sounded. He frowned and took a step and found three beautiful shells and a handful of colorful, shiny rocks littering the wooden floor. He glanced out the window, and despite the consuming darkness of the night, he couldn’t avoid seeing the red glow of Frey’s eyes. “Why rocks?” He called. “She likes things shiny.” And with that, her eyes were gone. He collected the strange rocks and shells in his hand with a slight smile on his lips. A soft knock sounded on the door. “Yes?” Y/n stepped inside, holding a bottle in her hand and a needle and string in the other. He rolled his eyes. “It’s superficial.” He said, pointing at the gash on his arm. It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last. “Even so.” She handed him the bottle. “I took the last bottle of the rum, we procured in Port Royal.” She grinned. “If the men knew, they’d have my head.” He sat down and chuckled. “No, they wouldn’t. They would fear for your friend of the sea.” She sat down next to him and eyed the cut. “It won’t take long.” She mumbled and slowly began threading the needle, eyes focused on his arm. He couldn’t help but flex it, just a little and was rewarded with a soft whine. She began stitching him, and he didn’t dare move a muscle, but simply took a large swig of the bottle of rum, relishing in the warmth of the spirit. Minutes passed in silence, and he glanced at his table, where the collection of rocks and shells rested. “All done.” She mumbled and wrapped his arm in white linen, before standing up and wiping her hands on her pants. Her shirt was still spattered in blood.

He stood as well, and a swell of the waves around the ship made it tip slightly, which none of them were prepared for; she tumbled into his chest, fingers on his collarbone and his hands flew to her waist, trying to steady her. She found his eyes.

A carnal need overcame him, the very air became hard to breathe in, and he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her deeply, a small gasp coloring the kiss in beauty, and her hands flew to his neck, wrapping around him to meet his kiss. Their tongues wrestled and he pulled her close to him, fingers moving to swiftly undo the damned laces on her back. She breathed a moan as the corset loosened and finally fell from her body – he grabbed her leg, holding her behind the knee and turned her, laying her on the bed. Their movements were frantic, desperate, and longing, so many months of glanced, near-touches and unsaid words hanging thickly in the air, and she clawed at his shirt, finally pulling it out of his trousers. He groaned as she rolled her hips against him, and he let his tongue dance over hers before he ripped her shirt to shreds. She gasped. “Buck, that was my favorite!” She bemoaned. He chuckled, kissing her neck. “I’ll buy you a brig’s worth of that shirt when we reach shore.”

She grunted and pulled at the lace on his pants, as he did the same to hers, Her chest was heaving and he couldn’t help himself – he lowered his lips to her hardened nipple and sucked it, teeth scraping against it and he was sure the sound, she made, would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

She finally managed to undo his pants and quickly pushed her hand inside, moaning as she touched his hard length, wrapping her hand around it. He rutted into her hand and his fingers had a hard time getting the fucking pants off her and she giggled, fully giggled as she lifted her rear up to make it easer for him to move the pants down her legs. The leather of his own pants were straining against his hard cock and her hand, and he quickly released her nipple with a soft pop to sit up straight and push his pants down. She clearly decided to use it to her advantage, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, removed her hand from his member and flipped them.

He grunted at the impact, but quickly swallowed any grievances when he saw her on top of him, straddling his hips. Her lips were swollen and red from the rough kisses and his beard, her chest heaved and tattoos littered her skin, drawing intimate pictures, a story of her. She positioned herself better, and grabbed his length again, lining him up. “Darling, don’t you…” He wanted her to feel good, but she quirked an eyebrow, a clear challenge. “You don’t believe me capable, Captain Barnes?” He had never loved being called a captain as much as he did now. “I believe you more capable than me.” He simply said, cock twitching in her hand. She grinned and lined him up with her dripping folds, sinking slowly down on him.

He might’ve thought the sea was his home, his calling, but at this moment, he knew he had been wrong – she was his home. She was tight and wet, the sounds tumbling from her lips were sinful as she lowered herself on him; he worried about her feeling pain, but her eyes rolled back in her head as she was finally seated on him, and immediately began rolling her hips, riding him with long strokes. he growled and held her hips, steering her and he felt her clench around him, her wetness growing on his lower abdomen, and he rutted up into her, craving more and sped up, not daring to slow down now, not with the way she pulled him deeper, and her moans grew. He fucked her deeply, grabbing at any bare skin he could as he nails dug into his chest. “Please…” She moaned. “Please, deeper…” He would never tell her no. He fucked her deeper and harder, feeling her clench around him and she threw her head back, stilling her hips as she came undone around him. He had felt many women reach their peak under him, but never had it felt as good as it did with her. He craved to see it again, the way she twirled her hips and used him to get more out of it, more of him. She leaned down and kissed him deeply, all teeth and tongue, and he lost control – he flipped them again, swallowing her squeal and began pounding her; her legs wrapped around him, lips warm on his, and he would die happily here, buried in her. She was moaning his name, like a drowning man’s last breath, and he sped up, dragging against her walls, that fluttered against him. “Buck….” She moaned again biting down on his shoulder. He growled and thrusted deeply, his cock twitching. “Fill me.” She whispered, her breath cooling the spot, her teeth had just been on and he damn near lost it. He fucked into her frantically, his arm weaving under her leg and hoisted it, clutching it under her knee, her walls tightening around him and with a roar, he spilled inside of her at the same time as she clamped down, another wave of pleasure running rampant through her body.

They rocked slowly to a still, his cock still twitching inside of her, and he kissed her languidly before slowly pulling out and laying down next to her, wrapping his arm around her. “You made my stitches open.” She mumbled, fingers gently swirling against the new red-splotched linen. He chuckled and let a finger follow a tattoo that ran from her collarbone to her elbow. “Worth it.”

------------------

When they came out of his quarters the next morning, their hands intertwined, the crewmates all whooped, and Steve yelled the loudest that it was about damn time. Bucky didn’t care, not even about the lewd comments, because Y/N managed to send a dagger flying towards Sam’s hat and pin it to the railing behind him when he shouted something obscene. They stood at the rutter together, the pirate and his queen, and stared into the endless horizon. He saw Frey following the ship just out of the corner of his eye, and he tipped his hat to her.

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loving-barnes · 2 years

Text

Vendetta - Numb (5)

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Mob ! Boss Y/N Fox (Bucky Barnes x female reader)

Warning: language, violence, blood, death - murder

Autor’s note: We are slowly getting to know more about our characters, the Fox family, Bucky’s relation to Y/N and so on. Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged.

Viewer discretion is advised. This story is for readers 18+!

Word count: 4000+

Chapter Four

Vendetta Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Numb (5)

Y/N’s sunglasses fell off her head and broke. She reached her hands toward her brother before his body was able to fall to the ground. Her eyes found blood streaming down his clothes. He got shot straight into his chest and it wasn’t looking good. She dragged them both behind a car to cover them. Barnes had a gun in his hands, firing in the direction the first bullet came from.

“Danny, look at me,” she tapped his cheek to get his attention. “Whatever you do, don’t close your eyes. Focus on my face, okay?” she talked to him with a trembling voice. “Danny? Danny, can you hear me?”

Her hands were covered in her brother’s blood. Maybe they had a love-hate relationship but it was still her brother. “Y/N,” he whispered her name. “Am I going to die?” he asked. “I’m c-cold.”

“Don’t worry; I will take care of you. It’s going to be alright,” she kept talking to him, convincing him that everything was fine, which was a lie.

The only thing she could hear was a rustle of her heartbeat and something that reminded her of the sea. Her breath quickened. She wanted to move and take him away to a safer place, but her legs didn’t listen to her. She closed her eyes for a brief second and took a deep breath, focusing.

Back in the day, when she was in the military, they taught them how to behave in these situations. Now, it was time to put it to good use.

A moment later, Y/N could finally hear voices echoing around the street. People were screaming and more gunfire was heard in the distance.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up. “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” said Barnes and grabbed Danny’s body. He was strong and could handle almost dead weight effortlessly. The door to the car was already open.

Y/N stood up and fished out the car keys. She put them into Bucky’s hand and sat next to her brother. She didn’t give a shit that the car would be covered in blood, smelling like metal and leather. All she cared about was getting away from the place and getting help.

Barnes sat behind the driver’s seat, turned the engine on and set the car in motion. The speed was way off the limits and took every turn in a drift. His phone rang and he put it on a speaker.

Steve: What the fuck happened?

“I have no fucking idea, but Y/N’s brother got shot and I am taking them to the nearest hospital. I should be there in three minutes,” he said.

Steve: Who shot? It wasn’t us.

“Steve, you have really fucking hard questions right now,” he growled loudly. “Find out what happened, talk to her people and to Stark.”

Steve: Her people? Wait, I am confused. You are all friends now?

“For fuck’s sake, Steven! Do as you’re told and I will explain later,” he ended the call and focused on the road.

Y/N was watching Danny’s face. It became as pale as a wall. His eyes were slightly open and he wasn’t breathing. She put two fingers onto his neck, trying to find a pulse. As much as she tried, she couldn’t find any. Quickly, she grabbed one of his hands and tried to find the pulse on his wrist – unsuccessfully.

A tear escaped her eye and she held her breath for a second before speaking. “He’s dead.” Her eyes found a hole in the middle of his chest. The bullet got through his lungs and heart. It was fatal and there was nothing they could do. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it the moment they put him in the car.

Bucky stopped at the red light and turned behind, finding Y/N with her dead brother on her lap. She was stroking his cold cheeks, covering them in blood as her tears were falling down his face. “Shit,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

It’s been a while since the world stopped and nothing existed for a minute. The reality was slowly coming to her. Someone killed her brother and with this act started a war. But who was the person who killed him? She captured that it wasn’t Bucky’s men. It most certainly wasn’t her people. Could it be Stark or was it Hydra?

“C-Can you take us home?” she asked him meekly. “You know where we live.”

Yes, he knew. He didn’t need anyone to find out her address. He was in her house years ago, when his father would bring him to the meetings. It seemed as if it happened centuries ago, and yet he still remembered. Without a word, when the traffic light turned green, he drove them through the Bronx straight to her home.

The ride was silent and painful and he didn’t know what to say. She was hurting, he knew that. Yesterday, he wouldn’t give a shit about her family or her dead brother – well, maybe. When they were younger, they used to be friends – or so he thought. Yes, he was mean to her but all boys would be at that age. And what's more, she opened his eyes today and showed him it was all Hydra’s fault. At the end of the day, he didn’t know how to feel. Right now, he kept his mouth shut and tried not to think about her.

After twenty minutes, they arrived in the driveway of the Fox mansion. When he killed the engine, men came running to the car, opening the door where Y/N was sitting. Two of them approached Bucky’s door guns already pointing at him.

He got out with his hands up, eyes running around the place. Bucky was surprised by the action the Foxes took. Were they always this overprotective?

The place was perfectly lit with the lamps they installed around the house. Barnes was able to see everyone clearly. At least ten men surrounded the car.

“What happened?” someone asked.

Another voice was shouting orders. “He’s bleeding! Take him out, take him out!”

“Did you do it?” Chao asked Bucky as he kept aiming the gun straight on his forehead, ready to shoot him for the crime.

“Let him go,” Y/N stopped Chao before he could do something stupid. She got out of the car. Her whole body and clothes were covered in Danny’s blood. “It wasn’t the Wolf. He helped us get here. He’s clear,” she said neutrally. Her eyes were following her men who took out Danny’s lifeless body and brought him inside the house. A trail of blood was left behind.

Bucky lost his breath when he saw her standing there in that state. She looked as if she came from a deadly ring where she won the fight of her life. He quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts.

Two more cars arrived a minute later. Yelena was the first one who jumped out of the vehicle and ran towards Y/N, pulling her into a tight hug. “What the fuck happened? Why are you covered in blood? Where’s Danny?”

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “He died in my arms, Yelena.”

Steve and Sam stepped out of the second car. Y/N’s men pointed their guns at them. “Woah,” Sam shouted. “Easy there, we come in peace.”

“They followed us,” Yelena whispered to her. “None of his people shot him, Y/N. I was watching from above and it was someone else, someone I have never seen in my life.”

“What if it was Stark?” Sam asked when he heard Yelena.

“I doubt it. He’s been on our side for many years,” Steve replied.

Y/N took a deep breath and looked at Ace and Chao. “Help Scott take care of the car and make sure they put the body downstairs into the basement where it’s cold.” Her voice was monotone, without any emotion. “Call the funeral services and arrange body transport. Also, plan the funeral.”

This was her life. People would die under her hands either by her fault or not. As a boss, she couldn’t show too much emotion; otherwise, they would think she was weak.

“I don’t want the body here tomorrow,” she continued. “Make sure he’s gone and everything is clean.”

Yelena saw this side of her once before, back in the military. That memory was painful even for her and she wasn’t the victim. Y/N was.

Everyone was quiet when she slowly went inside the house, not turning around to give more orders. She put her hands into the pockets of her jacket and left them all standing outside.

Yelena looked at the Wolves. “Shouldn’t you be sniffing somewhere else?” she hissed at them.

“Is she going to be alright?” Barnes asked her with a soft voice. She had to frown at him. “No need to push it,” he raised his hands in the air and walked to his two men. “Tell her to call me if she needs anything.”

“Don’t root for yourself, wolf,” she winked at him and went inside the house too.

Bucky sat next to Steve who was the driver and Sam took the back seat. Together they left the driveway and went back to their territory. Bucky looked down at his white shirt, covered in Daniel’s blood. He sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he mumbled.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Steve goaded him.

“Stark and I were supposed to talk about our next move against the Foxes. They were getting on my nerve, to be honest – especially after that stunt she pulled,” his eyes found Sam through the rearview mirror. “But she gave us something that made us reconsider everything. You will not believe me when I say this but… Hydra was messing with all of us and she gave us proof. It is mind-blowing.”

“What?” Steve raised his brows. “How?”

“Remember when Mad Man was accusing us of stealing his drugs and weapons? Well, it turned out to be Hydra. And they covered it perfectly. Hydra got Stark’s trucks and took the cargo,” he laughed. “I will tell Tony to give us the folder and the flash drive and we can have a look at it.”

“You are telling me that Stark was fine with it too?” Sam asked.

“Earlier than I was. He seemed pissed when he found out Hydra took his trucks. That’s why it seemed it was Stark who took Fox’s goods.”

“So you will forgive them that easily?” Steve wasn’t sure about this.

Bucky shrugged. “I want to get through the documents and see how much valuable information she has provided for us. For now, yes, we called a truce. And after this event, we will back down for two weeks – a mourning period. You all know the rules.”

Sam started to laugh and patted Bucky’s shoulder. “Is it me or have you gone soft for her?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I think Sam is right,” Steve grinned at his friend. “You’ve danced together, she tricked you and you said it yourself that she is… fuckable. Put it all together and you have a dangerous, sexy woman of your dreams.”

“I will slice your tongue out of that damn mouth,” Barnes glared at him. “You’re talking nonsense, man.”

The whole mansion was in complete silence. If anyone were intensely focused, they would be able to hear the beeping sound of a heart monitor coming from Mad Man’s room. The house never had this much quietness as it had now. No one was walking down the hallways; no one was running around, trying to find someone else. As if life stopped in there.

Yelena was sitting in the kitchen, drinking whisky she found in the fridge. She hadn’t seen Y/N in three days. The funeral was tomorrow afternoon and she had no information or details. Before she came to the kitchen, she checked her room and the gym, but Y/N wasn’t there. The office was empty, and the men had no information about her.

She took out her phone and checked all the messages. Scott saw her yesterday when he drove her to the graveyard where her brother was to be buried. Wade was with her the night of the meeting. She just needs time, he said.

The entrance door opened and closed with a thud. Y/N came back home – Yelena recognized the sound of her high heels. She stayed sitting on the barstool, enjoying her drink and waiting for her arrival. She could tell Y/N was approaching the kitchen.

Yelena’s green eyes widened when she noticed her standing in the doorway. There was dried blood on her face, her leather jacket was torn and the t-shirt she wore was dirty and damaged. A bruise was forming under her right eye.

“Before you say anything, you should’ve seen the other guy,” Y/N raised her hand to keep Yelena silent and walked to the empty seat. She sat down with a groan.

“Three days – I haven’t seen you for three days and you come here, beaten as if it was nothing?” She was worried. Even her voice was higher and thinner. “What the fuck happened?”

Y/N stole Yelena’s drink and poured it down her throat in one go. “I have been working these past few days, trying to get as much information as possible from Hydra.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why would you do it alone and now, when you have a funeral to attend?” Yelena banged her fist against the marble counter. “You could have died, Y/N.”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle again, pouring herself another drink. “I shot first.” Again, she drank the whole thing in a matter of seconds. “While I was away, I talked to some of our friends from NYPD and secured the perimeter of the graveyard for tomorrow’s funeral.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t,” she stopped her before the blonde could continue. “Danny’s dead. Am I sad? Yes. Do I want to cry? No. I know he was my brother, but I am not that devastated.”

It was true. She was glad he died, and it was not her who pulled the trigger. Even though it was her brother, she hated him. He paid his friend to harass her and make fun of her when she was a teenager. He would always put the blame on her when he was in trouble. And when he became addicted to drugs, it was the last straw for her, and she was done with him. However, somewhere deep down, she was sad. He was the last family member she had. (Her father was unconscious, that didn’t count.)

“If only mother was alive. She would keep the family together. But her death caused a turn of events and from that day, it all went to deep, smelly shit.”

The way Yelena kept staring at her was uncomfortable. She must have thought a lot of things, one of them being a lack of emotion or a missing heart. Y/N’s heart got colder when she was in the military. Some men thought it was fine to sexually abuse a woman. And since that night, she wouldn’t let herself have any feelings for anything or anyone.

“Did Hydra’s man give you any info?” Yelena asked, trying to talk about work than her brother.

“He admitted to stealing the cargo because he was there,” she smiled triumphantly. “Before I had a chance to ask more, he attacked me and I had no other choice than to kill him. His body is now swimming somewhere in the deep sea.”

“I’m just glad you are alright,” Yelena whispered and gave her boss a tiny smile.

“While I was away, I was thinking,” Y/N said slowly. The tone brought goosebumps to Yelena’s back. “Stark wanted a meeting this Friday and I don’t want to wait until Friday. I don’t give a shit about the mourning period or anything. I need to get rid of Hydra to have a peaceful life.”

“All Wolves and Starks?”

Y/N shook her head. “Just the most important people, for example, I would bring you, Scott, Wade and Peter.” Yelena wasn’t happy about the idea simply because of seeing someone who betrayed her years ago. “I know, ‘Lena. I know how you feel about Natasha. But she’s Tony’s right hand.”

“I can deal with her during a work meeting,” she said quickly, hiding her real emotions. “I’m a professional.”

“I know you haven’t seen each other for years but this meeting is necessary. I am not doing it to hurt you,” Y/N grabbed Yelena’s hand and squeezed hard.

“Where would it happen?”

“Here,” she sighed. “It would be a sign of goodwill, hospitality and trust. To be honest, I am planning on selling this place and starting fresh once my father dies – well, if he dies.”

“What? And where would we hang out? You have everything here. Would you give up your childhood, your memories by selling this place?” she shook her head.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled. “This place has been suffocating me for a while. I need a change and rebuild everything. A fresh start, that’s what my heart wants.”

“I only hope that even with this fresh start, you will keep me by your side,” the blonde nudged her shoulder with a grin.

Y/N stood up and kissed Yelena on top of her head. “Don’t worry, my love,” she said dramatically. “I won’t leave you… I’m going to shower and get rid of these clothes. Would you like to go somewhere to eat afterwards?”

“Italian would be nice,” Yelena winked at her. “Shall I send the memo about the meeting?”

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll do it,” and Y/N left upstairs.

Bucky was sitting in his office alone, leafing through old photo albums he owned. He was glad his ma would take photos of him and the family when he was younger. At least he was able to come back to all those memories. It was the most prized possession he had after his parents died in a car crash. They shouldn’t take the car and drive all the way to Washington.

He found a picture of one particular meeting he attended with his father. He was almost eighteen at that time. He was sitting behind a table with Daniel and Y/N. In the picture, his eyes were focused on Y/N.

She was ugly, but who wasn’t during puberty? A lot of girls changed since high school. Many of them tried to hit on him now because they thought they had a chance with him. Looks and money could be powerful things. The truth was, he would sleep with them and then leave them the morning after without a word. Bucky wasn’t avoiding relationships, but he didn’t find the right woman he would want to date. Besides, no woman would want to be by the side of a mafia boss. They wouldn’t be able to handle the life he had.

“Damn,” he whispered and shook his head as his eyes went back to Y/N’s face. That chubby little girl was gone. The acne, dental braces, it was all in the past and now, she was a different woman that wasn’t scared to fuck shit up.

His eyes widened and realized one thing. The name Kat he gave him in the club, was her mother’s name. He chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

“What are you giggling about?” Steve asked him when he entered the room without knocking. He took a seat opposite his boss.

The brunet closed the album and looked at his friend. “Life can be funny, you know?” he said. “And these past few days were too amusing, to say the least.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded and looked at the album. “You were staring at the photos again. Why?”

“If I tell you, you will make fun of me,” Bucky chuckled.

“I would never,” Steve raised his two fingers as a sign of a promise and then crossed them, laughing.

“If you were there, if you were attending the meetings and was able to see Little Fox, you would be thinking about her too. I can’t process how much she changed.” He opened the album again and showed him another picture he found of her. “Look at that and then think about her now – holy shit.”

The man shook his head in disbelief. “Wow, that is a serious transformation,” he admitted. “But why do you keep daydreaming about her?”

“The fuck? I am not,” Bucky was annoyed. “I remember when my ma attended the meetings; she couldn’t help but marvel at her. She’s so adorable, she would say. And as a teenage boy, I would be disgusted by her words.”

“In a way, she was adorable, you know?” Steve raised his brows.

“Ma would even tell me things like: you should marry her or I can picture you two together when you are older. Because of that, I kept showing to everyone, even to her, how disgusted I was by her,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Fuck, this is the only reason why I actually despised Y/N. My ma would want me to be with her and it was fucking annoying. Ah, she raised me better than this.”

“A changed man,” Steve commented.

“And then, after the funeral, she disappeared and I hadn’t heard about her, hadn’t seen her. As if she stopped existing,” Bucky continued. “I tried to find anything about her but to no avail. Later, her father ruined everything. I knew her brother was still present and I got some information about him here and there but never about Y/N. After some time, I forgot about her.”

“Such a sad story,” Steve mocked him.

“I will throw you out of the window,” Bucky threatened him. “I’m just thinking back about everything.”

“I’m sorry, please, continue,” Steve tried to hold his laugh.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “And then, I meet her in the club she now owns, and I thought to myself, damn, I would fuck the soul out of this chick. She spilt champagne into her cleavage, buried her fingers between her breasts and cleaned her fingers with her tongue. She got me hard, my friend.”

“And then her men drugged our men and she kicked Sam’s ass a few days later,” Steve summarized the events. “You should definitely fuck her.”

“She wouldn’t let me,” Bucky waved with a hand and again closed the album. “Would you let someone fuck you who treated you like shit?” When Steve silently shook his head, Bucky continued. “There you go.”

“I don’t know what to think, Buck. One day, you want to shoot her, other day you want to fuck her. There is a fine line between love and hate, my friend.”

“I still hate her for that scene in the club,” he said. “But it was impressive.” His phone rang with a text message. He took the device from the table and read it silently. “Well, talk about the devil,” he grinned.

Y/N: Tomorrow, dinner at my place at 8PM. Bring your closest, most trusted people.

“Tell Sam to not plan anything for tomorrow evening,” said Bucky and turned his phone to Steve so he could read the text. “We have been invited to a dinner with the Foxes.”

“Isn’t tomorrow the funeral?” Steve raised a brow.

Bucky: Do you want a number of attendees?

Y/N: Yes.

Bucky: Four.

“We are not bringing Sharon,” Bucky informed Steve. “Sharon has a pretty face and you enjoy fucking her but I don’t want her there for now. But I’ll be taking Clint.”

Steve stood up and walked towards the door. “Whatever man, you are the boss. I’m going to tell Sam and Clint about tomorrow.”

Bucky looked at his phone again when Steve left him alone. His fingers started to type something but then erased the message. A second later, he started to type something more.

Bucky: Dress code?

He waited for over five minutes before he got a reply. This text message was longer.

Y/N: Formal. The perimeter will be secured. You can put in some of your men if you don’t trust me. Anything for you to feel safe.

Bucky: Sure. I’ll think about it. Btw, again, sorry for your loss.

Y/N: Thnx.

After that text, the conversation ended. Bucky had a tiny smile on his face.

Chapter six

Tags: @lethallyprotected , @memeorydotcom

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader #Mob!Bucky Barnes x female reader #James Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader fanfiction #Vendetta #Marvel fanfiction

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ao3feed-buckyreader · 9 months

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction

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buckyalpine · 3 months

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

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

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

Bucky was in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much closer.

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

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

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

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

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

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

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

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

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was perfecttt.

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gutsby · 4 months

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Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

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

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

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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

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

Frankly, you were mortified.

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

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

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

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

“Put it down.”

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

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

“Are we done?”

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

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

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

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

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

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

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

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cadavercowboy · 11 months

Text

In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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welldonebeca · 3 months

Text

Glitter and Goo (II)

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Masterlist

You fixed yourself dinner, lemonade forgotten, barely processing the taste of the food as you watched the way in front of you.

Space was beautiful. It was so strange to see those stars so clearly.

Yet, it was so scary sometimes.

You got something ready for Bucky too, saving it for when he'd wake up, putting some music on before moving off to work on the research of the element already.

It was maybe two or three hours later that the sound of a phone call got your attention.

"FRIDAY, pick up," you asked.

The sound stopped for a moment, and you took your gloves off.

"Doctor Sparkles," Tony greeted. "Got time to talk?"

You scoffed at the silly nickname.

"What's up?"

"That sparkly thing you sent over," he told you. "Thor said it's pollen."

You rolled your eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," you shifted to the other side, where you'd been working on the pollen. "I gave it a look under the microscope, but I'm not exactly good at alien biology."

It just looked sparkly. Sparkly pollen, that was it.

"Anything on the goo?" you asked him. "It dried really fast, I didn't have time to take a second sample to look into it myself."

Maybe you could cut some of the fabric of Bucky's clothes. Even if it had dried, it could have left something there.

"We got someone smart looking into the one too," he told you. "Are they from the same plant?"

"Yep," you crossed your arms. "A flower exploded on Bucky. He got really grumpy about it."

There was silence on the other side.

"It exploded?" Tony asked. "Like... what?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Like a flower explosion, Tony," you told him. "What else can it mean?"

More silence.

"I gotta check something," he decided. "Are you going anywhere?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about visiting Pluto," you sassed back. "I heard it is really pretty this time of the year."

A sound caught your attention for a moment, and you looked in the direction of the dorm.

Had Bucky woken up.

"It's not worth it," Tony told you. "I'll be back in a minute."

He hung up, leaving you to scoff. It wasn't like you had anything else to do, anyway.

"Ma'am?" FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes is behaving strangely."

That made you stiffen up.

What?

"Define strangely?"

The damn pollen.

You pulled up a tranquillizer from the side of your table.

If it had made him violent, it was best not to even get close to him.

"He has broken his bed, ma'am," the system told you. "And... I believe he's trying to copulate with your pillow."

He was...

"What?" you shouted back. "What do you mean, he's trying-"

But another call came through again.

"It's Tony, ma'am," it told you.

You grunted, covering your face with a hand.

"Pick it up," you cocked the tranquilliser. "Tony, tell me you have good news, because I think I have a problem."

"I do," he told you. "And it isn't venomous."

You sighed. Good, at least that.

"The flower that Bucky might have encountered is part of the mating rituals of-"

"Quick answer," you interrupted him, worry already filling you. "I don't have time for the sociology lesson."

He snorted a bit.

"It's a sex flower," he told you. "It makes you horny for your mate and facilitate reproduction of a highly infertile-"

You blinked, shocked.

"Wait, it's a sex pollen?" you asked. "Tony, this isn't funny!"

Where had he gotten that explanation from? Someone's fanfiction story?!

But he laughed on the other side.

"Except that it is!" he corrected you. "It enhances romantic and sexual attraction towards one's mate-"

"Mate?"

Was he talking about animals?

"It is actually highly sought after by some Asgardians struggling with their fertility," Thor spoke on the other side. "It quickens up the production of eggs and sperm to ensure reproduction."

You had to pinch yourself to react, still shocked.

What the fuck?

"And how does that affect humans?" you asked.

You were met by a bit of a hum.

"We don't have many answers on that," Tony answered at last. "But probably the same as Asgardians?"

"If so, there's nothing to worry about," Thor assured you, not sounding worried at all. "It only hits those who are actively around their partners."

You glanced back at the dorm. Well, that didn't sound very right.

"Partners?" you asked. "Like boyfriends and girlfriends? Wives, husbands, spouses...?"

He confirmed with a hum.

"Yeah. People who we have strong romantic and sexual feelings for, a bit more than just passion," he told you. "Bucky will be just fine."

"Ma'am," FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes has dented the wall with a punch. I believe the door can only resist another five of those before breaking, unless you activate quarantine mode."

That didn't seem to go over Tony.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "Why is he punching the ship?"

You stood up quickly.

"I gotta go check on him," you decided. "Thor, is there a chance he... might..."

Hurt you.

His voice was tainted with worry when he answered.

"Violence is unlikely," he told you. "Unless you try to keep someone away from their mate."

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

Holy shit.

"Okay," you spoke slowly. "I'll call you back if I need anything else."

"Wait, what?" Tony gasped back. "Where are you going?"

But you pressed the screen near your station, hanging up.

You could hear grunts when you walked near the dorm and jumped in shock when you heard Bucky's fist against the door again.

"James!" you shouted. "What are you doing?"

He stopped.

"Y/N?" Bucky called suddenly, half whimpering. "Where are you?"

You neared the closed door.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, instead. "Are you alright?"

He knocked on the door, a little weaker.

"Please," Bucky begged. "I need you."

You swallowed down, eyeing the door, worried.

Was he going mad with lust?

"Please," he cried.

Heat pooled in your belly, a soft smell making your face warm.

Was that him?

He smelt so good.

"Please?" Bucky insisted.

You stopped your tranquilliser slowly, walking near the door, but when you tried to open it, it was locked.

"FRIDAY," you called. "Open the door."

There was a moment of hesitance.

"Are you sure, doctor?" the system asked. "It's still possible to put Agent Barnes in quarantine. It's only 36 hours until we arrive back home."

You shook your head. No, you wouldn't leave him alone.

"Open the door," you commanded once more. "Don't ask me again."

The sound of the locks moving was loud, and you opened the door slowly when you found it unlocked.

James didn't move when you stepped inside, just far enough from the door that you walked in easily.

His face was so flushed, and he was drenched in sweat.

You reached for him slowly, touching him gently on his cheeks, and he exhaled, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Where were you?" Bucky panted, sounding so sweet and yet so needy, his hands moving to cover yours. "Where had you gone?"

It broke your heard to hear him like that, so lost. You had left alone!

He watched you with his bright blue eyes so soft, and it was as if he hadn't been slamming the door moments ago.

"I'm sorry," you caressed his skin. "I was making dinner. Aren't you hungry?"

Bucky shook his head, hand moving down slowly, touching your body gently. First your waist, wrapping his arm around you so slowly that you knew you could step away and stop him any time you wanted.

He put his head in your neck, sniffing you, nuzzling into you as if you were the most precious thing he didn't want to let go.

You shivered when you felt him sniffing you, pressing close to you, his body hot.

His big hand travelled down a bit, near your hip.

"Hungry," he mumbled into your neck, licking your skin.

Bucky's fingers searched around your jumpsuit on your back, tugging on your jacket and your utility belt.

"Smell good," he whimpered. "Can smell you..."

You sighed out.

"Smell me?" you squirmed.

You could smell him good. It was so good.

"Smell you wet," Bucky hissed, unhooking your belt and throwing it away. “Smell your skin… wanna bury my head in your tits, find your sweet smell in them.”

You gasped, surprised.

"Bucky! Something could break!"

He tugged on your vest, lips travelling up and down your neck, and if he was that insistent there, you couldn't help imagining what he'd do if he put himself between your legs.

"Want to break you," he took his hands to your belly and pulling on the clasps of your best, nearly breaking them. "Make you mine. No one else will have you."

What?

He wasn't speaking any tense.

Bucky threw it away, grabbing the front zip of your suit and tearing it.

“Bucky!”

Did he know how hard it was to get a jumpsuit that fit your tits? They were too fucking big for most of them, you had to get a bigger size and adjust the rest of your body!

Still, you couldn’t complain as his big hand pushed into your clothes, grabbing your chest, squeezing your breast over your bra.

"No one else can have you," Bucky babbled. "You're mine."

Bucky took your clothes off so quickly you barely saw it, and he picked you up, laying you on the bed.

For a moment, you thought he would take you just like that, but he took off his clothes before moving and kneeling in front of the bed, looking at your face with such a soft pleading look on his face.

"Please?" he whispered. "Can I have you? Please?"

You swallowed down, leaning onto your elbows.

His mattress was practically on the floor, the legs broken, and it would be so easy for him to just crawl to you.

"Want to give you my babies," Bucky pleaded with you. "Want to be yours, please."

You swallowed down, breathing in deep. Oh, how good he smelt. You had to fight yourself not to bury your face into his neck and sniff him.

The flower... it had to do with mating rituals, wasn't it?

"What are you going to do?" you asked him.

Bucky swallowed down.

"I want to make you feel good," he promised. "I'll treasure you, I'll never let you go."

You pressed your thighs together, a bit warm between them.

His fingers clenched by his sides.

"I'll fill you up," Bucky promised. "You're so empty, aren't you? I'll give you everything!"

You swallowed down again, feeling your pussy clenching at the idea.

His babies. He was going to give you his babies, right?

Your eyes travelled down his body to his cock, and it was so hard. There was so much precum.

Oh, he was going to fill you up, right?! Give you his cum!

Bucky was going to breed you.

You nodded, sitting up.

"Please," you tried to grab his hand. "Please, Bucky."

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

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Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 1 year

Text

Polyamorous : Seven Days (Final part)

Pairing Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes, Stucky x reader

Warning: fluff, smut, talk of the future

Day 7

“Aren’t you excited?” (Y/n) asked Ash as they both sat in the back seat.

For their final day of vacation, the throuple decided to spend it as a family picking up Ash from Wanda.

“I don’t know where we’re going” Ash said as she looked outside the window trying to guess their location.

“We are going on a picnic. Do you not want to?”

“No, No. I would like to go. What did you pack?” Ash asked quickly dispelling any doubt or misunderstanding that (Y/n) had. She hates to see her distress.

Ash Listened as she listed off all of the the foods, she had brought with them. Which was a lot a family of super soldiers ate three times as much as the average. She didn’t know why but listening to her made her feel good. Maybe it was how soft her voice was or the obvious joy in it or the care she spoke as she explains each person individual lunch. She just seemed so happy.

“I even brought desserts. But we can stop for ice cream or something too. would you like that?”

Ash nods she couldn’t find anything to say. (Y/n) didn’t take offences simply smiling with her. She continued to talk about what they would be or could do for the rest of the day. Ash continued to listen to her soft voice.

“Isn’t this amazing?” (Y/N) asked as she laid across Bucky’s lap as they both watched Steve and Ash play catch and run about. “I never thought we’d have this. I never imagined”

“I know what you mean.... after everything this seemed impossible”

“Yet here we are”

He looked down cupping her face he leaned down and gave her a kiss. “Here we are” she whispered against his lips.

“Children present” Ash spoke as she approached her other parents

“This is a public park, for shame “Steve teased as he came over as well collapsing on the blanket next to them. Ignoring his weak protest (Y/n) pulled him into a kiss as well. “You’re going to get us in trouble”

“Let trouble come” Bucky said as he ran his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Ash turned away from her parents giving them the illusion of privacy despite being in a public park.

The family was left alone in the park with no one approaching them overall. In the week vacation Steve grew a bit of facial hair, and Bucky was covering his arm, topped with sunglasses, and hoodies the Avengers looked unrecognizable to the average citizen. (Y/n) believed this was why they were overall left alone and had yet to be bombarded by paparazzi. Keyword ‘yet’ she knew they were lurking somewhere.

And by being left alone she meant now one was out right approaching them the family did catch a throuple eyes and disgusted looks when they shared a kiss. No one had the balls to approach the beef men and their little girls.

“Ice cream?” Ash asked as she nodded to the little stan by the sidewalk surrounded my families with small children, but they were starting to trickle away.

“I’ll go with you” Bucky said as he got up carefully. As he moved Steve took his place with (y/n)’s head on his lap. It didn’t bother asking them what they wanted he already knew.

“How are you feeling about this so far?” Bucky asked as they walked “and I don’t just mean the park I mean... the family”

“I... I like this family. I’m happy with You, (Y/n), and Steve” Bucky smiled pulling her into a side hug “And Peter” and there went his smile. But it brought a smile to her face.

Ash knew despite their (Steve and Bucky’s) show of distaste for Pete. they did like and trust her with Peter. He was her first real friend. She cared for him deeply and she knew that they knew that. Which is why they let him stick around.

“How about everyone else? The team?”

“I like them as well. They take good care of me, you all do.”

Reaching the line Bucky looks back and Steve and (Y/n), they were cuddling. “How would you feel if we moved out?” she looked at him confused “The team is planning a move upstate and we weren’t planning on following them. Thinking about getting a house away from all this”

They paused their conversation to get their sweet treats and began a slow walk back.

“You’re leaving?”

“we’re not leaving the team. we’re- Ash I would like to know if you’d- How would you feel if we no longer lived with the team?” Ash could tell Bucky was getting a little unnerved with the conversation.

“How would that work?”

“we’d commute back and forth for work. And you could go anytime you wanted and- and ...” he sighed “Peter could come to the house as well. He’d be welcomed.”

Ash smiled “I think I’d be okay with that. Yeah” Bucky smiled nodding. She was okay with it. That’s all he needed. She’d be okay.

After their picnic the family went for a bit of shopping which lead to Ash getting a plushie fox (oh the irony) and (Y/n) getting a large yet very cute plushie cat. She named it Alfred.

“Move out the way I’ve got to show Alfred his new home.” (Y/n) said as she pushed pasted the others stepping out of the elevator.

“Sometimes I forget that’s our wife and not our child.” Steve said as he watched (Y/n) so off their home to Alfred.

“You’re our child” Bucky said looking down at Ash.

“she’s happy” Ash said as she went to join (Y/n) in giving the tour.

Steve and Bucky just smiled.

“What are you doing?” Steve whispered against (Y/n) lips as she kissed him. He held her hips as she grinded on him.

“Kissing my husband”

They were in bed she was on top of him in nothing but a white shirt that belonged to one of the boys (it was anyone's guess as to who). Bucky was in the shower and Ash was in her room. Down the hall.

“what-”

“shhh” She shushed him pulling off the white shirt before returning to his lips “I’m making love to my husband” she started trailing kisses down his jaw, neck, and chest.

“what about Ash? what if she hears us?”

“Then be quiet” she said as she reached his waist. Kissing his hips as she pulled his pants down slowly. She little gasp as he sprung free. Steve bit his bottom lip as she began to stroke him. He could already tell being quiet was going to be difficult.

(Y/n) gave the tip a few kitty licks before taking the rest of him in her mouth. He whimpered as she slowly started to bob her head sucking his tip slowly. She bobbed her head slowly taking more of him in her mouth as she went until she got to the hilt. Her nose brushing against the little tuff of hair he had.

Steve gasped as she started to play with his balls massaging and tugging at them. She moaned around him sending vibrations. He subconsciously started thrusting his hips gently into her mouth as she stopped moving, he didn’t even know he was doing it. Until she stopped him pinning his hips to the bed. She pulled off with a pop.

“So eager, can help but chase my mouth huh” she said as she stroked him with one hand and fondled his balls with the others. Kissing his tip (Y/n) let go and crawled up his body straddling his hips and hovering over him.

“So impatient, at least you’re quiet” she said as she began to slide her pussy over his cock. Steve let out loud a whiny moan “spoke too soon”.

Leaning forward she kissed him as she lowered herself on to his cock. He moaned against her lips. She pulled away letting out a breathy moan. He grabbed her hips to still her, but it didn’t work. He started whining as she started riding him. She covered his mouth.

“Fuck... you feel so fucking good. “He moaned against her hand “You’re cock feels so good in my pussy. It feels so fucking good. I know, I know.” she bites her lips to hold in her moans. He held on to her hips moving thrusting up into her.

“Feels so good... fuck so good” she moaned burying her face in his shoulder.

Suddenly he stopped she tried to move her hips, but he held her. She moved her head to look at him when she suddenly found herself on her back. Startled she grabbed onto his shoulders. He didn’t stop there. Biting her shoulder, he thrusts into her reaching new lengths. She moaned out loud before covering her own mouth with her hand.

Steve moaned into her shoulder as he thrusted into her. It seemed that (y/n) was having trouble following her own rule of silence. The room was filled with the sounds of muffled whines and moans and skin slapping.

(Y/n) dug her free nails into his back as he pulled her legs up on to his hips.

He groaned as he felt her wall clamp down on him as got closer to her climax. He wasn’t going last. Reaching in between their bodies he found her clit and rubbed it into a few gentle circles. That was all she needed to reach orgasm her hand wasn’t enough, so she bites down onto his shoulder moaning into his skin. Steve came to a still gripping the sheets.

Once down calmed down from her orgasm she let go of his shoulder kissing.

“Go ahead cum in me” she whispered as he began to move his hips again. “Come on cum in me fill me up I know you can”

She continued to whisper encouragement as he picked up the pace thrusting into her. His thrust became slobby and uneven. And his moans and whines becoming louder, and she didn’t have the heart to silence them.

(Y/n) cupped his face and watched him face as he came inside of her. She moaned as she felt his cum paint her walls. “Oh fuck” she whimpered as she felt rope after rope of cum shot inside of her.

Once finished he collapsed on top of her out of breath. He kissed along her neck and shoulder.

“you guys are terrible at the quiet game.” The couple looked up to see Bucky leaning against the bathroom doorframe in nothing but a towel. “I could hear you in the shower. Let’s hope Ash didn’t hear you”

“How long?” (Y/n) asked

“Since the beginning” he said as he approached them “you were a bit loud”.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. Made my shower better.” he leaned over brushing his fingers through Steve's hair and kissing her.

Sitting up Steve pulls out he sits back and watch as his cum spills out of her. Using his fingers, he scoops it up and pushes it back inside of her. Bucky watches as this happens.

“I’m happy you two had fun. Go hop in the shower while I change the sheets.”

“Can we take a bath instead?”

“Of course,” Steve said as he picks her up bridal style and carried her into the bathroom.

“What is this?” (Y/n) asks as she sits in bed flipping through a binder her husbands had handed her.

“They are plans for a house” Steve says, “to build a house.”

“To build our house” Bucky corrected. “A while back we bought some land. Finding a house with all the right things seemed difficult so we figured we just build one with all the right things. And make it a Suprise.”

“But then life got in the way and a lot of things changed. So, it was pushed to the back burner.”

And it was true they had far too many things happening to worry about building a house. Tony did offer a helping hand in making their blueprints and offering numbers on construction workers and companies. But once their grieving process started, he not only put a hold on the construction of their house but the compound as well not wanting to abandon the throuple in their time of need.

“These were the plans we had before everything” Steve said as he flipped to the blueprint, he and Bucky decided on first. And the updates they made to include Ash.

They watched as (Y/n) slowly turned the pages looking at each and every one from the blueprints to phone numbers and cost. She took it all in. The final picture was a sketches made by Steve of their future home and all the possibles.

“This is our home?”

“it’s going to be”

(not my sketches)

#polyamorous #polyamorous fanfic #polyamorous series #steve rogers x bucky barnes #Steve reogers x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #stever rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky fanfiction #stucky

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chrisdrysdale · 2 years

Text

These are for you

+18 minors dni if you do you will be blocked!!!!

Summary: Bucky just wants to make it up to you

Warnings: Angst, screaming, crying, arguing, major plot twist, heavy sadness.

A/N: I got this idea from a fanfic tiktok but i can’t find it, if you find it please link it!!!

“Bucky you don’t understand, I can’t deal you doing this anymore” you shouted at him as he put away the first aid box.

“Y/N honey, it’s my job, I need you to calm down” he tried to approach you but you moved away.

“it’s hurting me Bucky, I hate seeing you like this”

You freeze over the kitchen counter where Bucky’s file sat. You saw a future date with “next mission” marked beside it. “3 day? 3 FUCKING DAYS?!” You shouted at him, storming over with the file in your hands, shoving it into his face. “You just got back, and now I have 3 days till you have to go again! This isn’t fair!”

“How is this not fair Y/N? It’s my fucking job, you expect me to just not work”

You sat down on the couch, slamming the file down on the coffee table. You prop your elbows on your knees, pressing your palms in to your eyes as tears fall out.

Bucky takes a breath and hunkers down beside you and places his hands on you knee, you jerk away from him. “Oh Y/N don’t be like that for fucks sake, so what I have to go on a mission, you’ll be fine”

You look at him with disgust “I’ll be fine? You really don’t know me at all do you!? You think I’m fine when you leave? I completely break down when you leave, I can’t sleep and I can’t function properly-”

you get up and walk over to him, with your finger out as you began poking his chest. “because I’m too busy worrying about you, but no you think i’m fine, so your clearly not worrying about me”

Bucky grabs onto your wrists and slightly twists, without thinking “You think I don’t wor-“ you cut him off with a little whimper from the pain shooting through your wrists, he let go quickly as your wrapped you hand around your bruising wrists “shit! fuck! I’m sorry”

He moved closer to you but you back away in fear, tears threatening to spill over in your eyes. “Y/N please”

You looked down at your wrist and then back up at Bucky “Do you even love me, honestly, sometimes I think you love work and you’re stupid job then me”

There was silence

“Well Bucky? Do you? Do you love me?”

He didn’t answer

“Fucking ridiculous” you mumbled as you grabbed your car keys and stormed out the door, Bucky chasing after you “Y/N wait!”

“Leave me alone” you replied, back in your normal tone as you got into the car.

Bucky watched you drive away, standing in the door way, his eyes filling with tears “please come back” he whispered

The fight ended in a few days, Bucky was meeting you in an old garden. He had everything he wanted to say planned out and even got you white roses. Your favourite

He spotted you in the grass and slowly approached and hunkered down beside you “Hi”

He gave the flowers a tight squeeze around the stem

“These are you for you” he said before laying them down in front of your grave

“Your favourite” he sobbed out reading the words, engraved on your stone

y/f/n y/s/n

fiancé • daughter • fighter

10 minutes after you left the house that night, you were in a collision with another car, your injuries were too much to handle for your frail body and eventually it gave up. Bucky was torn, Sam came to the door to break the news to him, and he just collapsed, sobbing into Sam’s arms telling him how he completely screwed things over with you and know he can never fix them

It took Bucky a couple weeks to recover. He couldn’t even attended the funeral.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make funeral, too sad” He cried placing his hand on the side of the stone before shuffling over and pressing his head against it. “I was so stupid and i’m sorry” he placed a trembling kiss onto the side. “I never answered your question, I love you so fucking much, more then I will ever love anyone, and now i’ll never get to spend my life with you because I messed it”

-Fin

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky fanfiction

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shreddedparchment · 2 years

Text

Perennial Pt.13

04/18/2022

What A Feeling

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 2,437

Warnings: language, jealousy, angst, fluff, tattoos, drunkenness

Featured Flower: Cornflower

A/N: Oh man, I hope the last bit of this one makes sense. I wanted it to feel drunk and I hope it does that. If not, let me know. If it does, let me know that too. I think this is the one everyone has been waiting for. I hope y’all like it. xoxo

The entire universe wouldn't be able to contain the amount of stress that Bucky has coursing through him at this moment.

No. No one, not even all the Avengers put together during their fight with Thanos could compare to the ferocity with which he's stalking the city.

He sees several red dresses as he weaves through the people out and about on dates and outings. None of them are you. There is no mistaking you.

As his heart races, as his nerves fray, his brain starts to put a name to this feeling of hollow aching in his chest.

Seeing you on Steve's lap had started the epiphany. Having your alcohol heated body pressed against his had awoken the thought to the possibilities.

However, nothing but this frenzy in him, this torture as his mind races with endless scenarios of the dangers in the city and how you might meet them has convinced him that he is so utterly in love with you.

Yep.

Bucky knows it now for sure.

He's never felt this way. At least not that he can remember.

He wonders if he's always felt this way and scours his memories for a starting point. Some kind of sign of a beginning when he began to love you.

He can't choose one. There are too many.

That first smile you gave him when he was a nervous mess buying flowers for that one girl he doesn't remember made him love you.

The kindness and empathy you'd shown him when he showed up again and told you about his failed date but then described his encounter with Kali had made him love you.

All those evenings spent in your shop talking about nothing and everything had made him love you.

The way your eyes light up when you're talking about flowers and their meanings and how you care for them made him love you.

Even when he disappeared on mission and he stupidly didn't call–God the pain that thought gives him now feels unreal–or text. Even then, you were on his mind.

Not a priority. Not like Kali had been. For the measly six texts he sent her if he can call that making her a priority. You were his good friend.

Of course you'd understand his absence, right?

But then he saw you at the restaurant and then…

Bucky freezes to the spot he's standing in, arms dead at his sides as his eyes grow wide, brow furrowed in rapid contemplation.

He forces his mind to go back to that day in the restaurant, to remember the look on your face and the sound of your voice.

Yes, he knows a good friend would understand.

But you weren't a good friend at all, were you?

He can see it now. He can finally see you and what you have been trying to deny.

No. There's no way anyone could endure what you've endured. There is no possible way that you would sit with him, walk with him, be around him and put up with hearing every little detail about his relationship with another woman if you liked him.

No one can endure that kind of emotional torture.

Bucky’s panic begins to rise again. He clenches his hands, metal one groaning with the strain.

What if you climbed up onto some roof? And drunk? What if you fall over?

He looks up desperately, searching for any sign of your figure cast against the sky. Nothing.

He takes a step forward, determined to find you, then freezes as your voice shatters his despair.

"Bucky!"

He whips his head this way and that, trying to trace your sound through the panic in his body. The craze he’s been feeling has dulled all of his senses.

Then, with his sharp shooting skills found and redirected, he hears your laugh and then a small cry of pain that narrows his view to you and only you.

He turns to the left and across the street he can see you inside some shop, laying on a table with your dress pulled up to your hip leaving your legs exposed.

Something in him goes feral and he races across the road to you, ignoring the protesting honks and shouts of angry drivers.

He pushes into the shop, the ding of the shop bell ringing him back to reality and away from what he assumed was someone assaulting you and now he sees that you are indeed lying on a table of sorts. More like a chair, just laid flatter than normal.

Your dress is pulled up to your hip, exposing not just your left leg and the soft pink material of your underwear which he tries not to look at, but he can see that it’s your hand holding the skirt up and beside you, seated on a stool is another woman with bright purple hair, at least seven piercings in each ear, one on her nose, and two in one eyebrow.

She’s also covered from neck to toe in tattoos.

Bucky hears the humming of a needle going and as you cry out in pain again, he realizes that you’re laying here, drunk as all hell, getting a tattoo.

“Do you have any idea how scared I-we were?” he chastises, feeling relieved but nervous now that he’s face to face with you.

Can you see it on him? Can you tell that he’s realized how much he cares about you?

You laugh lazily, reaching out for him with your other hand and he frowns before moving around to the other side of the table to take it.

You frown at him, grabbing his left hand and then ripping off his glove which he nearly pulls from your grip but you’re holding it with a lot more strength than he’s expecting from drunk you.

“Hey,” he warns, but you simply place his metal hand on your cheek and sigh with relief at the cool touch.

“Das better,” you smile and lean into his touch.

“Why’d you run off like that?” he asks, not really expecting an answer but now that he has you in front of him, he can’t tear his eyes off of you.

“You the boyfriend?”

Bucky’s attention is briefly pulled to the tattoo artist beside you as she presses the needle and then wipes at the spot as she works.

“Uh…” Bucky’s heart skips a beat, wondering if he should answer how he wants to or with the truth. “...something like that.”

He settles on a somewhat truth.

“She’s cute,” the girl says, and Bucky wonders if you’ve gone and attracted some attention from the artist.

You are really cute and his heart gives a sudden ache at the idea that someone else is noticing you when he hasn’t even told you he likes you yet.

What if someone comes in and sweeps you off of your feet? He feels nauseous just thinking about the fact that Steve could have very well done that if he’d wanted to.

“A slightly sloppy drunk, but not in that gross way, yeah?”

The girl nods towards you and you’re too busy watching Bucky to notice the girl.

“Bucky,” you whisper, and he leans down to hear you better. “It hurts.”

“Well, why are you getting a tattoo all of a sudden? No one asked you to get it.”

You frown at him and toss his hand away, apparently not appreciating being chastised.

Bucky regrets it the instant you stop touching him but he feels calm that he’s at least found you. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, quickly dialing up Steve’s number.

“Did you find her?!” Steve gasps, sounding as if he’s been running.

“Yeah, she wandered into a tattoo shop and is currently pouting at me for not sympathizing with her pain.” Bucky says this pointedly at you, nudging your shoulder with his leg.

You swat at him and angle your torso away from him.

Bucky’s smile is involuntary as he walks a little ways away to talk a little more quietly.

“Mean boyfriend?” the tattoo artist asks you.

Bucky turns to look at you but you only cross your arms over your chest and continue to frown.

The tattoo artist laughs.

“What the hell was she thinking?” Steve wonders.

“She wasn’t. Listen, Steve, I-I-” he glances at you again, making sure you aren’t listening but then to be safe, he goes outside and waits until the door is shut again. “I don’t know how I’ve been so stupid about this.”

“Well, it’s about damn time.”

“You’ve known?”

“That you’re in love with your best friend? You don’t hide things very well. Granted, I think it helped that I openly flirted with her to make you jealous.” Steve teases. Bucky can hear him chuckling.

“I’ll get you back, Steve. I’ll find a way.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, Buck. Now don’t fuck this up.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky shakes his head, turning to glance at you and you’ve pushed yourself up onto your elbows, staring out at him on the phone.

He turns around fully and gives you a little wave and your face breaks into a brilliant smile that knocks the air right out of his lungs.

Damn him. Why didn’t he notice this before?

“Just be honest, Buck. But maybe tomorrow? She’s pretty wasted. Oh, that reminds me. I have her wallet. She left it at the bar.”

“Okay. Just hold onto it. I’ll pick it up later. Steve? Thanks.”

Bucky hangs up but watches you a few more moments before he moves back inside.

“Alright, she’s all done,” the tattoo artist says. “That’ll be sixty bucks.”

She turns to him expectantly as you poke at the plastic wrap around your thigh.

Through it he can see the small flower. The bright shade of blue, almost indigo at the center in color stands beautifully against your skin. He swallows hard, feeling a familiar stirring that he finds a little inconvenient with a third person in the room.

That little tattoo should not be as hot as it is.

“Is this why you left your wallet behind?” Bucky gripes at you.

He pulls out his own and shells out three twenties.

“Thanks,” the tattoo artist says, then gives him a rundown of how you should be caring for the tattoo for the next few days.

With instruction given, he moves over to you and offers his hands, “Come on, you drunk. Let’s get you home.”

You seem to realize that he’s there for a second time and with a small gasp you grab his hands, “Bucky!”

“Have you always been this happy to see me?” Bucky wonders, trying to remember your face every time you saw him before.

The only thing he can recall right now is the look of utter distress every time you’d seen him these past few months of him dealing with his breakup.

Was that all friendly concern? Or…is it possible that you like him too?

~~~~~~~~~~

Halfway up the steps to your apartment, you give up.

“We’re almost there, kid. Come on.” Bucky urges you up but you shake your head and whine a little as you pull against his tugging.

He huffs and through your haze of alcohol you reel as your feet are swept out from under you.

You gasp and cling to him, too dizzy to put any words together until he’s already fumbling with your keys and letting himself into the apartment.

“Hey,” you protest to being lifted, but it’s already been several minutes since then.

“What?” He demands, not angry but definitely stern as if he’s daring you to make some type of complaint.

His arms are so large underneath you and his chest feels strong. His smell is intoxicating.

All you wanna do is smell him. Mmm, he smells so good.

You shove your head into his neck and sniff, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his skin.

The skin there bursts into goosebumps but you don’t notice more than superficially.

“You’re killing me here, kid.” Bucky gasps.

After a moment you’re suddenly weightless. All of the night’s drinking swirls around you and you think you might throw up but then you hit a soft cushion and you bounce a few times against the softness of your bed.

Bucky is already making a move to stand up straight but with a sudden panic and desire to have him close, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down.

“Woah,” he cries out. “Hey.”

But he falls over you, arms at either side of your shoulders as he kneels over you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice so soft and smooth and deep. He’s so quiet too. His face is so serious, steel blue eyes staring right into yours.

He comes in and out of focus. It feels like a cloud. Like a dream.

Is he even really here?

You reach up to check, touching his cheek slowly to see if you feel skin.

“What are you doing, kid?” he asks again.

“My leg hurts,” you whisper, wondering why there’s pain on your thigh.

Bucky smiles. His lips part slightly and without thinking to do it, you pull him down until your lips meet his.

What erupts as the two of you meet is unfathomable.

Your heart is searing with fire, your stomach rolling with ticklish flips. Your arms lock around his neck and his arms are suddenly everywhere around you.

He’s holding you so tight that you cry out a little as you pull away from his lips.

“Sorry,” he whispers, sounding shocked through the fog in your brain. “I’m sorry, I just-you caught me off guard.”

You laugh, still dizzy, still seeing him but not seeing him. He’s so pretty but he also looks like colors, smeared across a canvas.

You pull him down again, ready for more of those tumbles in your tummy but he stops you.

“Tell me why you’re doing this,” he pleads, waiting.

The waiting is killing you. You don’t want to wait anymore.

“I love you…I love you, kiss me.” you beg.

The words fall so easily from you that you wonder why it’s been so hard to say them all this time.

“Kiss me,” you cry.

Bucky is everywhere and he’s everything.

You see, feel, hear, taste, and want nothing but Bucky.

As heat traces along your body, it stops at your thigh and you cry out in pain but the kiss keeps going and you let yourself fade away into it.

This is such a good dream.

#bucky x reader #bucky x florist!reader #flowershop au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #perennial pt13 #perennial

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mrsbarnesblog · 5 months

Text

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets.

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt.

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words.

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?”

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?”

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?”

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.”

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!”

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting.

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you.

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes.

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food.

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened.

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues.

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it.

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief.

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.”

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way.

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea.

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.”

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together.

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him.

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food.

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth.

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion.

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking.

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body.

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date.

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day.

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face.

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.”

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep.

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms.

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees.

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him.

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.”

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush.

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom.

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him.

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute.

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face.

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked.

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head.

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.”

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud.

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips.

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss.

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down.

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on.

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.”

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it.

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—”

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan.

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet.

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace.

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.”

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.”

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes.

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night.

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave?

Wait a minute.

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining.

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table.

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

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