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darkdemeter · 2 months

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𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

A/N — Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hotto potatoh commanding a vessel on the high seas.

Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

*4.1𝐤 ────────────────┘

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

────────────────┘

There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss.

Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above.

You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew.

To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that.

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface.

A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger.

Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation.

Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body.

His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment.

He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation.

“I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

“Aye?”

Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep.

Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link.

However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance.

Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own.

Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf.

His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea.

The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back.

“Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion.

“But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze.

Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...”

A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest.

He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

“Yes, Captain Barnes.”

Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of.

Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes.

“That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge.

“All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp.

“She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

“She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands, “Do it.”

Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door.

He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.”

With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again.

“Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.”

His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours.

To remind you to whom it was you belong to.

His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath.

He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity.

“Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

“C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.”

Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder.

You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.

“That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder.

“I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.”

“Please, please… Cap—”

“Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.”

You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear.

His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop.

What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan.

In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm.

The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together.

“Still deny that you found nothing?”

His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side.

The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.”

Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

For you to be his siren.

Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out.

Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite.

You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge.

The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere.

Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval.

Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace.

This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief.

Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst.

You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts.

Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord.

Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song.

It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home.

But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head.

Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune.

He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so.

Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him.

“Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “I– I wasn’t—”

Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip. “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #pirate au #pirate bucky #siren reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader

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flordeamatista · 10 months

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𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗠𝗲

pairing: artist!bucky barnes x mermaid!reader

concept: With each wave, the ocean speaks of truth, and the flame of his passion is you.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, tiny angst, poetic kissing, ocean kisses, reader siren abilities, manipulation, twisted love, desire, lust,

a/n: thank you to @aquariusbarnes for giving me the idea of artist!bucky and mermaid!reader

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel and @lunarbuck thanks for always hearing my rants about this daydreams

gif and moodboard made by me

line divider @s-tarksintern

Masterlist

In the air, on his land, and in your sea, the magic of our love fills the world.

The sun is brilliant in the sky as the boat sails across the ocean waves. It glistens off the water's surface as it transports seawater waves and salty air scented with seaweed to his senses. There is a feeling of calm in the air, and the sound of the waves washing against the boat notifies him of your coming.

A lovely breeze echoes your name over the waves.

The horizon is an endless line of blue, and the ocean's enormity is humbling.

In a few seconds, a seagull is soaring over the expanse of still water. Its wings spread wide, catching the thermals from the sun-heated sand, lifting it higher and higher into the sky. The setting sun lights up the feathers, giving the bird a golden glow.

There is a sudden rippling of thicker and thicker waves across the mirror of blue water. The seagull notices the change and quickly flies away, leaving the ocean to its own fate. The vast expanse of blue filled with foam attracts him despite this, since he sees a beauty in it.

An emerald tail emerges from the depths. As you float along, colorful fish swim around your arms. Reaching out to touch them sends the fish swimming away. Your skin feels warm, and you can hear the sound of the water as it ripples around you with each breath you take.

Mermaid goddess, you rule the seas and even dwell among the living, but you have no idea that his heart swims in rhythm with yours. Though you have no knowledge of it, you hold a power over the sea, and his heart beats in time with the motion of the waves.

Your gaze turns to the artist of the land, the one who captures every emotion of your heart.

In his arms, you find comfort in the world of possibilities he paints for you. There is a sense of peace in his love, as it provides a shelter from the tumultuous waves of life. His works of art are your solace, and you can feel your spirit illuminated with each stroke of his brush.

Your mermaid tail floats from the surface as the sun shines through your gills and your colors reflect in the light.

Painting your grace and elegance is one of his favorite things to do. Your beauty inspires Bucky, and he constantly feels motivated to capture it. He wants to share the beauty he feels in you with the world.

An everlasting masterpiece is what he aspires to create.

Whenever he paints you, it is like he is writing you a love letter. With every stroke he puts on the canvas, he expresses his love for you, and Bucky becomes enchanted with the work.

A stroke tells a story about a man's innermost desires, and you are a window into his soul and a key to his art.

It's as if the sunset speaks of love.

The ocean is infinite blue, and you are the prettiest color he's ever seen.

An emerald green spray of light reflects off the sea under the fierce rays of the sun. Stunning colors and textures are created by the sun's heat and light dancing over the sea surface.

The salty breeze fills the air, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the senses. At that moment, it is as if everything in the world is still, and the only thing that matters is the sea's beauty.

You.

With each wave, the ocean speaks of truth, and the flame of his passion is you.

With the right lines and colors, he depicts it on his canvas.

Bucky is amazed by its beauty, the way light and shadows blend. He realizes that beauty is in nature and in his own heart. As he paints with each brushstroke, he lets his passion shine through, creating art that speaks to his soul.

The moment he shows you his completed work, he is pulled into the water swimming next to you. Your hands find his lower back, and you hold him tightly so he can float. The sun reflects off his wet white shirt, and you catch a glimpse of his chest as he gracefully swims through the water.

You cling to him and twist his shirt, trying to keep him afloat since you can feel him sinking.

You can feel the warmth of his skin against your fingertips as his arms circle your lower back and almost touch your waist, pushing your lower bodies together. The heat flowing through you makes your senses flash in heat, and you crave more.

When he kisses you, he nips on your lips, intensifying the kiss as his hands roam around your upper body, branding your skin with his touch. This touch is one you want marking you today, every day, and until the end of time.

He breaks the kiss slowly, still holding you close to him, burying his head in your shoulder.

As he whispers the ocean melody, he recalls the beauty of seeing you surface in the waves. Kissing your face, he explains to you how he plans to paint what he is kissing and how he wants to showcase every inch of your body.

Bucky pulls back and looks into your eyes, wanting to make this memory last forever.

In an attempt to seize his lips again, you pull him forward and bring him back to your lips. With a firm grip, you tug him close to you as your hands run through his soft hair. This elicits a deep chuckle in his throat.

The two of you remain intertwined as you run your fingers through his hair, down his neck, letting your hand trail into his neck before coming to his front. You tease down his chest, undoing his buttons when you reach them and allowing the waves to assist you in doing so.

His soul is moved by the sea's voice that calls out to him.

You have been planning this from the moment you laid eyes on him. Taking him to your world that will be his new world.

He has no choice but to follow you, his heart pounding as he realizes he's been possessed. His delight at the splendor of the underwater kingdom overcomes his trepidation as he dives deeper into the ocean.

Bucky follows you forward with you into the ocean depths, enchanted by your beauty.

In the dark depths of the ocean, you are the only source of light.

It is as if your eyes penetrate his very soul. You watch him let himself go as he does with his paintbrush when you watched him paint you for weeks. It is as if his growing fear is washed away by your touch and singing. "This land cannot be captured in a painting anymore, Bucky, as you have the ability to become one of the greatest treasures in the world now. My treasure only.”

Bucky kicks a little, his hand fighting against every motion of the water. Your gentle voice holds him as you whisper, "Let go,."

The closer he gets, the stronger your pull is. Your song is mournful, and your eyes seem filled with tears. You sing of how lonely you are, how you need someone to fill the longing within your heart. He wants to be that someone.

It is as if his growing fear is washed away by your touch and singing.

Your song tells him not to be afraid, for it is his destiny to be with you. You are unable to live without him, and only he can free you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring your lips to meet his. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as you kiss him like he was the air you need to breathe.

As you kiss him underwater, you drag him deeper into the ocean. As long as you hold him, he doesn’t care.

Darkness envelops you both deeper and deeper.

Upon reaching the bottom, you smile at him and let go of his mouth.

With your lust and love, he drowns.

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1800jjbarnes · 6 months

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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔: 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Love, Lust Has No Bounds.

【Synopsis】 : You were in love with the enemy, and oh, how it was it exciting.

『W.C』 : 678

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Pwp. Smut. Slight fluff.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Siren!Bucky x Pirate!Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Oral. Fingering. Dirty talk. Swearing. Tongue fucking. Messy. Bucky enjoys eating pussy.

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The Destiny looked particularly beautiful this time of the evening. The sun bounced on the wooden framing, but your mind was elsewhere at this moment. Your eyes watched carefully towards the slender creature in front of you. His long tongue darting out to lick his lips as you quickly undo your belt buckle. You had to be quick before anyone noticed you were missing. They would certainly go looking for you the moment they saw you had abandoned your post, so you needed to hurry. Taking your pants off, a chuckle from the underwater creature echoed slightly through the cove. His nails graze the large rock beneath him as he hops up onto it. His lovely tail is shining in the sun, showing off its blue and green scales perfectly. He was the most elegant thing you’ve ever had the pleasure to lay your eyes upon.

“Come on now, little pirate. Don’t keep me waiting.” His voice was deep and chilling, making the temptation to rip your pants off with your knife grow greater and great with each passing breath. But you managed to slip them off, letting it hang off one leg while you free the other. His eyes gazed down at your exposed pussy, seeing you were already dripping. You were so perfect to him, his little plaything. If he says jump, you say how high. He had you wrapped around his fingers. But then again he strangely found himself wondering what you were doing when he wasn’t around. Or worrying if you were safe without him by your side.

He sometimes found it a pity that he did not have legs or you a tail. He could never be with you permanently nor you with him at sea… it was like some twisted forbidden love story.

He tugged on your legs, helping you to him so he could lay on the rock while being face to-face with your puffy cunt. You sighed feeling his hot breath pool against your aching core, wanting him to hurry and have you. “J-James p-please.”

“It’s okay, my love, I’m here.” He gathered up some of his saliva before spitting down onto your clit, making you jump. His thumb smeared his spit with your juices, making you all messy. You bucked your hips in anticipation as he spat against you but this time onto your hole. You felt the wetness spill down against your ass making you wreath in pleasure. His teeth grazed your clit making you gasp, hands flying for his salty wet hair before tugging harshly. He sucked on your little nub hard drawing his fingers to your hole, spilling two deep inside. But it wasn’t enough for him, spitting some more spit on his fingers he pushed them back in your pussy, watching his juices mix with your gushing cum.

His long, thick tongue slid in between his fingers, dipping inside you as well. But his tongue was significantly longer than his appendages, making you feel him in your lower tummy. You moaned his name, over and over, gasping for air while feeling his sharp nails scrape again your hips, surely leaving marks that threatened to draw blood. He fucks you harder with his fingers and tongue, making you reach your high in a blink of an eye. “Fuck, Fuck, fuck, B-Bucky!”

He groaned against your soaked cunt, drinking up all your juices. If he could he would lay here for hours, pleasuring you, seeing what made you tick. He wanted to taste every part of you, bite and mark every inch of your body leaving his saliva all over your skin in his wake. “Such a good little pirate. Ready for another before anyone tries to find you?”

Sitting up slightly, you see Bucky's face covered, glistening in the evening light. You didn’t think he could look even more perfect than he was, but here he laid. Eager to pleasure you again, wanting nothing more than to drip his spit on you, making you his messy, dirty little pirate.

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wkemeup · 2 years

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Sky Full of Song (7)

series summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. Pirate/Siren AU

pairings: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader

chapter word count: 7k

warnings: canon level violence, a moment of confrontation, shit goes down

🏴‍☠️ series masterlist // series playlist

You woke with a crick in your neck.

Sleep took you swiftly after Dugan retreated up the stairs, your body depleted from rush of ocean currents over sore muscles and the use of the siren’s song. You wouldn’t regain its power again for at least another week – and that was assuming your recovery time was the same as it was as a child when you’d used it without understanding its consequences on your muddied mortal blood.

It was an awful feeling to strip someone of their free will. Your father had warned you once that it would entice you, that it would draw you in like the shiny gems you chased across the seas, that it would ravage your mind like a disease. It was an addiction, he’d told you. An addiction to the power it would give you over another – to bend their will to your own making.

There was no piece of you that did not feel unnerved and shamed for the use of the siren’s song. No shred of satisfaction in the power it lent you – power that sought to destroy you as easily as it would its victim. You’d broken the will of the one man who risked everything to give you a chance aboard his ship, who had sought to save your life despite knowing his own path would lead him to the depths of the water.

There was no coming back from that betrayal.

The siren’s song never held an appeal for you before. It had only been something you coexisted with, learned to ignore within yourself. Now, it felt like a plague. A weapon you could not shake from your body. A shameful burden you would carry with you for the rest of your life. No matter how short that may be.

You groaned as you pushed yourself upright, leaning against the outer bars of the cell. Hay stuck into your still dampened hair, clinging to the sweat on your skin. Fragments of the straws caught within the barbed necklace laced around your throat – prickles of fresh blood bubbling over the dried bits around the barbs. Your shoulders ached from where your arms were constricted at the base of your spine, bindings still wrapped at your wrists. Raw and bloodied skin rubbed against the ropes.

Slowly, your eyes began to adjust to the dim light of the brig. A single candle was hung in the far distance beyond the cell, offering only a glimpse of light. The darkness it carried seemed to leave behind something under your skin – an uneasiness, an awful sense of loneliness despite the dozens of men stomping their boots about the deck.

You’d never once felt lonely on this ship. Not even under the knowledge that most of the crew resented your place amongst their ranks. No – you had the ocean, you had the small group of friends you’d made of good, decent men. You had your captain.

Had.

You swallowed back a lump burning in your throat, tears threatening your eyes. The sharp edges of the barbed collar pierced your skin with every strangled inhale. It hurt no less than the splintering in your chest.

A slight shift of movement within the brig stilled you to stone. You held your breath, wondering whether Lawrence had snuck into the cellar to be rid of you before the captain could carry out his own justice.

Would that be better, you wondered. Easier, perhaps? To never have to see the look of disgust in your captain’s eyes?

A figure was sitting on the barrels of rum, just outside the cell. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it before – shadows covering his face, his hands busy cleaning a trusted revolver. Blending into the darkness as if he were made for it. As if it welcomed him home. As if he’d been there for hours, waiting patiently in the solitude.

“My men are intent on throwing you overboard,” came the voice of your captain.

Your heart stumbled on its beat.

Slowly, Bucky leaned into the soft reflection of light from the nearby window. It coated over the lines on his face, the sharp clench of his jaw, sinking into the startling blue of his eyes. Still – he gave you no read on whether he was among those same men readying to end your life for your betrayal.

“I know what the crew believe you to be,” he continued, standing as he pulled the keys to the cell from his pocket, twisting them among nimble fingertips, “but I also know what they thought of you before we crossed paths with this damned island. I’m not particularly inclined to trust their judgement.”

You watched his every movement as Bucky slid the key into the lock and unlatched the door. He paused for a minute on the threshold of the cage and you wondered if he was carrying lingering hesitancy for his innate compassion towards you, if he chastised that part of himself that may still care for the monster locked away in the cell. Still, he opened the door, the hinges crying as they parted.

“I know I what I saw, Y/n,” Bucky said sternly.

Your stomach dropped as he admitted to your worst fears. Of course, he remembered. That foolish inclination towards hope would be the end of you far before the men above deck anchored you and threw you to the seas.

“My memories are not clear, but I know enough,” Bucky continued. Though, there was a sliver of uncertainty in his voice, a slight shift of a question at the end of every word – as if he was looking to you to confirm what he already knew to be true.

Bucky raked a hand through his hair as he paced through the cell. “I remember jumping ship. I remember being... stripped apart – like that siren had burrowed a hole into me and tore away everything that ever made me who I was. It made me forget my men, my life on this ship... you. I was going to die at that siren’s hand.”

His gaze met yours, blue eyes searching for answers. “I know Lawrence took the wax from your ears and I... I panicked. I don’t– I’ve never felt like that before. The thought of losing you to the sirens...” Bucky shook his head, as if to rid the possibility from his mind. He exhaled a slow, steady breath to calm his racing heart. “But you didn't fall prey to the song, did you? Too many seconds passed by without it claiming your mind.”

Tears blurred your eyes as you watched him riddle out his own disbelief, trying to make sense of what you had done. He paced over the creaking floors, wringing his hands. You wondered how long he waited in the darkness, wrestling with the vague pieces he remembered of his time under the water and the woman he thought he knew. Wrestling with the godawful sting of betrayal that came with it.

Your father hadn’t had glimpses into his time with the siren like this. He had barely been able to retain a faded memory of what happened to him. Your captain should not remember as much as he did. You could blame it on your dirty blood or a connection shared between you that held beyond even the power of the siren. It didn’t matter, you supposed. He knew enough to condemn you.

Bucky ceased in his pacing, his back to you. Slowly he turned over his shoulder, truly looking at you for the first time since he opened the door to the cell. The slight flicker of his gaze to the bloodied marks on your neck did not slip your notice, nor did the flex in his fist as he squeezed it tight. He appeared to force himself to look away, pulling his focus to your eyes.

“But somehow, still in control of your own will, you followed me into siren infested waters. You killed the creature intent on taking my life,” Bucky went on, softer this time. He swallowed then, as though the coming words were heavy upon his tongue – drying as sandpaper. Still, he continued.

“But then, you started singing and that same feeling pushed into my soul again – like it had burrowed into my basic instincts, shifting them to a will I didn’t recognize,” Bucky said, surely condemning you. Lead solidified in your stomach, in your chest, in your lungs, until you could hardly breathe.

“Only,” Bucky continued, a startling tenderness in his voice that nearly shattered you, “I didn’t feel unmade like I had before. It didn’t feel like an invasion. It... it just felt like you.”

Slowly, Bucky sank to his knees at the barrel where you sat. His gaze carefully looked over you, taking in the new bruising and cuts he hadn’t seen above deck amongst the chaos, and his jaw clenched. A darkness clouded over the blue in his eyes but it wasn’t anything like how the siren’s song laid claim to the striking color. Instead of it closing him off from you, they offered a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in his armor.

He looked away, the stone fading from his features.

“You kissed me,” Bucky said simply and your heart nearly shattered on impact.

He shouldn’t have remembered that. He couldn’t. Because that would be your undoing. It would spell your end. If he hadn’t been convinced of the monster in your blood, then the siren’s kiss was all the proof he needed.

But he didn’t flinch away from you in disgust. When he looked at you again, a strange weight clung to his features – a heaviness, an aching, you couldn’t quite place.

“Much of it is a blur to me, but I...” Bucky sighed, brushing his fingertips over his bottom lip, as if to touch the memory itself, “I remember the kiss.”

His lips parted and swiftly closed, making you wonder whether there was more he left unsaid. If he remembered the taste of your lips, how they molded so perfectly against his own. If he remembered how your body felt pressed against his – his hands snaking around your waist to brush the skin of your lower back. Because you remembered. You remembered every second of that kiss.

His eyes flickered back to the collar around your neck and his jawline flexed. He took in a steady breath and then, carefully, began to reach a hand to you – familiar, and still, you could not trust it. Not after every warning your father had instilled in you of the men who would sooner slit your throat and dissect your remains should they learn of your truth. Your breath hitched as Bucky’s hand drew near to your neck, your body tensing, and he froze.

His brow pinched at the center and what appeared to be a deep, unsettling sadness crossed the blue of his eyes. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. It had never once crossed your mind before these Isles that he might try to hurt you, to silence you himself with his own bare hands, but still your body reacted as if he might.

He’d promised to interrogate you, hadn’t he? You’d seen how the darkness crept into the captain you knew when he crossed the threshold into this cell – how he’d beat his knuckles raw in search of information more times than you were able to count. It was an effective method; well proven in his many years leading this crew.

And yet—

Bucky held up his hands apprehensively, giving you a moment to recognize the lack of malice in his eyes, the ginger nature of his touch. You could not find a trace of the darkness you prepared yourself to find. Instead, Bucky dipped his head in a reassuring nod as he carefully reached for your neck again – slower this time, allowing you to watch his every movement.

His fingertips grazed your skin and you nearly whimpered at the touch – the gentleness of it. Holding your gaze, Bucky unlatched the barbed collar from around your neck, carefully prying the sharp edges from your skin and granting you the levity of the stale air in the brig. You drew in a shallow, shaken breath.

Bucky exhaled tensely as he settled his thumb to the cuts on your neck, the deep scratches where the pronged edges of the necklace had jabbed to your skin. He touched you as if he might be able to wipe the wounds away as easily as he did the blood, as if he could heal you himself. He tossed the collar to the other side of the cell with force. It clung against the metal of the bars.

“You saved my life, Y/n,” Bucky admitted to the silence of the cell. His hand remained along your neck, examining the marks there. You were certain he could feel the pounding race of your heartbeat through his fingertips.

Slowly, he allowed himself to meet your gaze again. “None of it makes any sense to me. These things I remember... What the men insist happened... What we know to be true about the sirens... I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to trust me with this, to help me understand.”

You stared helplessly back at him. You’d never trusted anyone the way you had Bucky, but you’d sworn to keep this secret your entire life. Men would kill you out of fear or ignorance or sport if they learned what you were; might try to use you to evade the sirens or tear you apart in search of what made you born of the ocean. You father had made you promise to never tell a living soul of the siren’s blood in your veins – not even those you believed you could trust.

Because no one trusted a siren.

No one.

“Y/n,” Bucky tried again, a strain etching into his voice. Desperation, maybe. “Talk to me. It’s only us down here. Only me. You know that I would never...”

He forced out a tense breath as if he could hardly say the words aloud: the very possibility that he would hurt you.

“Please...” he whispered, begged, “just say something.”

You parted your lips, trying to force out the words your captain wanted from you – to confirm what he already knew, to give name to the monster you were. But it lodged in your throat, muffled as if you still wore the barbed wire around your vocal cords. You’d spent too many years suffocated by this secret, by the paralyzing fears of what it meant to trust someone with it, and now—you were drowning in it.

Tears slipped over your cheeks. Burdened in shame, you looked away.

Bucky exhaled, his head dipping. Defeat drew lines along his face.

He didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees. Disappointment weighed on his shoulders as he left through the open cell door. He closed it behind him and locked the bars, lingering just beyond the barrier in hopes you might change your mind. But the silence was crippling and he turned away from you.

Perhaps it was too painful to look at the monster he once trusted, to see betrayal personified in the women who would have done anything for him.

Or—

Or maybe, he was as lost as you felt. Confused. Uncertain. Greiving the loss of what he thought he knew and desperate to understand what fell in its place. Maybe he wasn’t like the men your father warned you about. Maybe... your father was wrong.

Because even if you knew little else, you knew Bucky was a good man. You knew his compassion outweighed the rumors of his ruthlessness. You knew he trusted you with things he would not dare show the rest of the crew. Perhaps, he would not see you as the monster his crew argued you to be.

He’d always been different, hadn’t he? You'd known that from the first moment you saw him on that pier, smirking at the little girl who’d chased down her bully with a hairbrush in hand. If anyone was to be worthy of this truth, of this secret that would surely spell your death to any other man, it would be your captain.

And you let him walk away.

He neared the stairs, almost out of view, and fear lurched inside you.

It was crippling, agonizing – the panic that you might lose him not to the sirens or the muddied blood in your veins, but to your own volition, to your own cowardice.

“Wait,” you called after him, but your voice was too shattered, too broken by the song to be heard above the creaking of the ship. He continued his ascent up the stairs, each step cleaving a fracture through your heart.

Your hands began to shake.

“Wait... stop...” you tried again, your voice slowly gaining back strength. But it wasn’t enough. You could see the weight pressing into Bucky’s shoulders, the heaviness of each step. He was nearly to the top.

You sat up straighter, determination drowning away the burning ache in your chest, demanding strength to your voice.

“Bucky—”

He stilled dead in his tracks.

It wasn’t that you’d spoken, or that your voice was tarnished from the song and the collar. No – he stilled so suddenly because it was the first time his name had come from your lips. Not ‘Captain.’ Not ‘Barnes.’

Bucky.

Slowly, he turned. His lips parted; breath heavy in his chest as he studied you. Something in him softened under the weight of his own name in your voice, a shiver in his bones. His hands clenched at his side though he made no movement toward you.

“Wait.” You swallowed back tears; the distance between you physically aching. “Please... don’t go. I’ll tell you everything. Anything. Just... don’t... don’t go.”

A sob cut through and before you could wipe your eyes on the shoulder of your damp blouse, Bucky had rushed the remaining distance and reopened the cell door, his strong frame kneeling in front of you. Your hands began to tremble violently against the ropes and he set a comforting hand upon your knee, urging you to speak.

“It’s true,” you whispered, your words still broken and raspy in the effort. “It’s all true. I’m... I’m so sorry.”

There was no flicker of surprise on his face. If anything, there was a level of relief you couldn’t quite understand. His hand rubbed tenderly along your thigh, drawing the trembling from your muscles and the shakiness from your hands.

“How is this possible?” he asked steadily, softly.

“I'm only half blood.” You drew back the taste of bitterness on your tongue. “My mother was a siren. So little of me is made of her, but it’s enough for others to fear me. I only used the song once before when I was a child, when I didn’t know any better. I never intended to use it again. You have to believe me. I never wanted to use it again.” A rock burned at your throat, threatening to choke you, to suffocate you. “But you... you jumped and I had to do something. You kept swimming after the siren, even after I killed her. You would have drowned if I hadn’t used the song on you and I couldn’t let you—”

"You hid this from me,” Bucky said, his voice laced thick with remorse as the words died upon your lips, “all these years. Why?”

You stilled, stunned by his question until you absorbed the sincerity in his words. His thumb brushed gentle strokes along your knee, a tenderness you’d hardly been able to grasp before he knew what you were and now... He did not flinch from you, did not revolt in disgust. He still showed you the same kindness, the same trust and care.

But you had needed to protect yourself and your secret – even from him. It was the only way your survived.

“Look where I am,” you exhaled, gesturing to the bars encasing you in the brig and the ropes tied at your wrists. “Can you blame me? The crew already distrusts me as a woman. If they knew what my mother was... it wouldn’t just be taunts and dirty looks. They would have killed me.” You looked out to the window where a glimpse of ocean water crashed against the foggy glass. “They still might.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Bucky retorted sharply, his words coated in a stern determination that made your heart clench. He squeezed your knee. “Do you hear me? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He flinched as his gaze dropped to the dried blood on your neck.

“I won’t... I won’t let them hurt you beyond what I have already shamefully allowed,” Bucky carefully amended, guilt pressed heavy on his features. “I have failed you. You saved me and I... I failed you. I will never deserve your forgiveness, but know that I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe from those men. To my last breath, I swear that to you.”

Your lips parted, trying to find the right words – to understand how he could possibly still look at you the way he was now, how he could so easily rush to your defense despite the years you spent lying to him of your true nature, of the monster you were under the surface. All this and still – he found a way to carry the blame himself.

All you could force beyond your lips was a disbelieving “...what?”

Bucky stroked his hands down your arms and gingerly took his pocket knife to the ropes binding your hands. As they slid from your wrists and the cool touch of air coaxed over the burns, you shivered, hissing at the burning sensation left in its wake. He helped to ease your hands to your lap, careful of the soreness in your shoulders from keeping your hands locked at the small of your back for so long. You winced at the tenderness, the dull ache, though it was long forgotten as Bucky drew your hands to his mouth and tenderly kissed the wounds.

Your breath soon left you entirely.

“I have always cared for you, Y/n. More than I should,” he admitted, the warmth of his lips lingering over your skin. “You risked everything when you jumped in the water after me. You saved my life. Whatever blood runs through your veins does not usurp the woman I know, does not take her from me and morph her into a creature I can easily despise.”

You watched him as he held your hands in his own, how easily he touched you. It felt like a dream, one where you were not the monster your mother made you to be.

“You’re... You’re not afraid of me?”

Something sank in Bucky’s eyes at your question. The ocean blue currents cracking as his gaze flicker to your swollen wrists. A lingering guilt rose to the surface, painting into the lines on his face.

“My fear is not for the siren in you,” he said simply, with such sincerity it nearly broke you. “It is for the blade of our enemy that comes too close to your neck, for the recklessness you are so often prone to, for the overwhelming pull I feel towards you that renders me helpless beyond what I can take. That is what I fear, my love. Not you. Never you.”

“But I— I lied to you,” you argued though your own tears, unwilling to accept his easy forgiveness, unable to understand how he could so blindly trust you when you’d spent years hiding from him. “I betrayed you. You should be lining up to throw me to the sea with the rest of the crew.”

“You think so little of me?” Bucky questioned, pained as his lips curved to a frown. “You truly believe me capable of laying harm to you? That I would disregard your years upon this ship and every time you have saved my life and the lives of these men? Why? Because you carry siren’s blood? Because you have an incredible – albeit, terrifying – power? You were protecting yourself with this secret. I know that. As much as I wish you had trusted me with this, I know why you couldn’t. I’ll admit that I don’t quite understand it all, but I don’t need to. I know you. I trust you. That is enough for me.”

Bucky’s fingertips ghosted along your cheek, brushing away the tears as they slid over your jawline. “I swore once that I would protect you. I meant that.”

It shattered whatever remained of your doubts, of the guilt and shame you carried for hiding the truth from your captain. This impossible man who had granted you far more than he could ever know. He saved you – in more ways than one – the day he agreed to take you aboard his ship. You’d never known loyalty and quiet affection until you met him.

“This is why you sought to keep us from these waters, isn’t it?” Bucky said quietly, the realization heavy. “All this time, you knew what we would find here. That it might expose you. You knew it could end like this, even as I pleaded for your blessing to travel to this island. You agreed to train the same men who would turn against you in a moment if they knew your truth. You did this... because I asked it of you.”

The guilt weighing in his voice bottomed in your stomach. And still, you nodded, unwilling to lie to him a moment longer. “I only wished to keep you safe.”

A sad smile lifted the edges of his lips. Beautiful, even amongst the dim lighting of the single candle and the faded sunlight marked by clouds and stained glass. Always beautiful.

"Then we have that in common, don’t we?” There was a breath of laughter in his voice.

His right hand gently pushed the dampened hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your ear. His smile began to fade the longer he looked at you – sinking not into a frown, but into something else entirely. Something that resembled awe. Longing.

“Bucky...” you exhaled his name and you watched as a shiver trembled over him.

Your gaze flickered to his lips – the full pink restored in color from his time under the water. His hand cupped at the side of your face, holding you steady, gently, as he drew you closer, as you neared him. Heart pounding, skin thrumming in anticipation. His lips were but a breath from yours.

“Captain!” a voice shouted from the stairs.

You pulled apart as footsteps bounded down from the deck. You turned to find Morita and Jones rushing into the brig with wide, panicked looks in their eyes. They did not seem surprised by the lack of the collar and bindings, nor the captain’s close proximity to you.

Bucky jumped to his feet, his body quickly shielding yours. “What is it?”

“The crew,” Morita replied, panting as his worried gaze shot in your direction. “They’re growing restless. They’re gathering chains.”

Your stomach dropped as Bucky reached for you. His arm darted across your chest, acting as a barrier. You both knew what the chains meant – weights to carry you to the bottom of the ocean, to rob you of the air in your lungs and force you to the home you never truly belonged in.

“I’m still the captain here,” Bucky snarled. “They can’t do a damn thing against her without my say.”

“I don’t believe the crew recognizes that anymore, sir,” said Jones. “Dugan is trying to keep them at ease, but they will come for her. Soon.”

Bucky held the steel in his bones for only a moment longer, contemplating his options. A war seemed to rage inside his mind; his frequent glances to the light seeping in through the open stairway lingered before he turned to you. The hardened lines of his muscles began to soften as his gaze filtered over the raw wounds on your wrists, the speckles of blood on your neck, the reflection of tears on your cheeks. He took one final look to the stairs before his shoulders sank, a tired determination rising to the surface.

“Ready the rowboat,” he ordered. “We shouldn’t be more than a few days journey from land. We’ll need enough supplies to get safely to shore.”

“What?” you gaped. “No, you— you can’t do that! I won’t let you give up this ship for me. Your legacy is everything to you and I’m not worth—”

“Don’t you dare.” Bucky grabbed a firm hold of your forearm, still cautious of the bruising, and pulled you close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “Don’t insinuate for a second that this ship means more to me than your life. We’ll find a new vessel. A new crew. Take one if we have to. I don’t want this one if they’re out for your blood.”

Despite the hardened stone on his features, Bucky’s touch to the edge of your cheek carried such tenderness it drew a breathy gasp from your lips. His thumb eased away the lingering tears on your skin, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your lips. Your argument died on your tongue.

Bucky let a weakened smile curve at the ends of his mouth. It wasn’t enough to reach his eyes – not with the chaos brewing above deck, but it eased the burden from his features. He pressed his lips against your temple, lingering a few seconds longer than needed before he turned back to Jones.

“Let’s get out of here. Now. Before they—”

Heavy footsteps pounded on the old, wooden stairs. One after another. Slow in succession. Determined. Confident. Each stormed like thunder inside your chest, rattling every nerve in your body.

Lawrence was the first to emerge from the shadows, several of the crew behind him carrying weapons in hand. All of which were pointed directly at you. There was no mistaking the malice upon their faces nor the certainty with which they aimed their weapons. They were here to kill the monster in the brig.

“Step out of the way, Captain,” Lawrence growled, though his stare remained on you as if it could burrow a hole between your eyes. Disgust was not a strong enough word to contain the glare he carried.

You longed for the dagger and revolver that had once held home on your hips.

Bucky inched himself in front of you; his body acting a shield. The flash of surprise on his crew’s faces did not go unnoticed.

“Don’t do this, Lawrence,” Bucky warned, his stance steady.

But Lawrence did not tear his gaze from yours. His teeth bared as if he were foamed at the mouth; rabid in his fury. “Do you have any idea the havoc she could wreak upon us? You allowed this creature to be unmuzzled when she could lure every last one of us to our deaths!”

“She is not what you think she is,” Bucky said slowly – the contrast to Lawrence’s crazed anger stark.

“She is exactly what we always believed her to be! A curse!” Lawrence roared, spit flailing from his lips. “We must put an end to the monster before it has a chance to do the same to us!”

Bucky unlatched the safety on his revolver. Stunned gasps echoed through the crew as Lawrence straightened his back. The men behind him held their weapons higher; a stand-off in the middle of the brig. Some of the crew’s weapons were trembling in their hands, fear of their own captain drawing hesitancy to their convictions.

"She is not your enemy,” Bucky growled as he adjusted the leverage of his gun, “but if you don’t step aside, I’m about to be.”

Lawrence licked at his lips; a deadly silence masked only by the crash of waves against the rim of the ship coating the brig. “So be it.”

Gunfire rang in your ears and you were thrown to the ground. Deafening ringing numbed the rest of your senses as you struggled under the weight of Bucky’s body, your forearms scraping against the exposed nails between the wooden boards.

Chaos surrounded you. Once, you would have thrived upon it. You would have breathed in the rush of adrenaline and smiled – but your body was still weakened from the aftermath of the siren’s song. Your energy was drained; your precision with a blade and a bullet hazy, even if you could manage to get your hands on a weapon. There was little fight left in your body as Bucky, Jones, and Morita desperately tried to defend you from the rest of the crew.

Someone managed to wrangle Bucky to his knees and it was only then that you saw the blood dripping down the front of his face. Someone had struck him – enough to break his nose – and your stomach lurched at the sight. Morita and Jones followed, various cuts on his arms and snags in the fabric of their clothing from the blade of their own crewmen. A blade darted out across Bucky’s throat and your heart plummeted far beyond the wood of the ship, deep into the sinking abyss of the waters below.

“Stop!” you shrieked, though your voice broke in the effort. You held your bloodied wrists out for the crew, panicked. Surrendering. Desperate for someone to restrain you instead. “Do what you must with me. Just leave them out of this. Please.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. Panic lacing deep through his veins as he struggled to free himself to no avail. Lawrence stepped forward, a sickening grin curling at the edges of his mouth, and Bucky’s gaze narrowed to deadly precision.

“You lay another fucking hand on her and I swear you to Lawrence, I’ll cut it off!” Bucky roared, caring little for the blade at his throat as it dug into his skin. Tiny speckles of blood dripped from the cuts as he fought his restraints.

Lawrence wrapped his grimy fingers around your wrists despite the captain’s warning, his thumbs digging painfully into your wounds as he wrapped heavy metal chains where rope had once been. You winced at the friction, which only seemed to delight him.

He turned to Bucky. “I’m doing you a favor, Captain. I’m doing all of us a favor. You'll see.”

But Bucky only bared his teeth, his body seething with rage. Blood dripped down to his collarbone.

With your wrists crossed in front of you, Lawrence grabbed hold of the remaining links and dragged you viciously towards the steps. The momentum forced you to follow as you stumbled over your own feet. You nearly lost your balance on the first step, but the chains dragged you along, even as you bruised your shins against the wood.

“Get her to the plank! Quickly!” one of the unnamed crew shouted from the deck as you stepped out into the blinding heat of sunlight. You blinked through the startling brightness, trying to adjust after nearly a full day of being kept below deck.

When you were finally able to see again, you found Dugan tied to the mast at the center of the ship. Jim and Gabe soon followed as ropes were secured around their wrists. But it was Bucky they kept restrained by his arms as they led you to the edge of the ship. They forced him to his knees with a heavy thud, resistance etched to stone in every ounce of his muscle. It took four of his men to hold him down and a blade against his throat before he finally stilled.

You stood silently at the edge of the ship as Lawrence tied weights to your ankles. Amongst his roughened hands and the latch of metal pinching at your skin, your gaze fixed on Bucky’s. There was nothing left to be done. You’d sealed your fate the moment you dove into the water after him, exposing your song and the siren in your history to the men who were so easily threatened by your presence.

It was foolish to believe even for a moment that you could have escaped this ending. That your life had not always been meant to end in this way.

Your heart pounded miserably inside your chest as you held his gaze. His lips were parted, breaths heavy in his chest – he looked as though his heart might have been ripped straight through his ribs for the panic and devastation on his features had all but consumed him. You offered him a small smile, one that barely touched your eyes to simply have this one moment left with your captain – one moment of peace to hold within the kind ocean blue of his gaze.

But Bucky would not let you go quietly.

“You would murder one of your own?!” Bucky demanded of the crew, the effort drawing the blade over his throat. Drops of crimson bubbled from the cut on his skin. “She has been a part of this crew for years and never once laid harm to a single one of you! She was the one who sought to protect you from the sirens in the waters of the Aglaope Isles! She warned you of this coast! Does that not give you pause?”

Several of the crew blinked, some taken back. Others, snarled their teeth – unbothered.

“Look at her!” Bucky ordered as blood slipped down his collar. “She’s without the collar and yet she does not use the song against you! Not even to save her own life! She is not the monster you claim she is! Stop this!”

It didn’t matter that you were depleted far beyond your ability to use the song again so soon. It should have been enough that it never once crossed your mind to do so in the years spent aboard this ship – fighting alongside this crew, eating with them, sailing with them. Even among their constant harassment and taunting. It should have been enough.

“Our captain has been blinded by the siren’s charms!” Lawrence announced to the crew, stomping upon their doubts as if he could crumble it under the sole of his boot. “She is every bit the demons that stole our brothers from us! We will condemn this creature to an eternity in chains at the bottom of the ocean for her crimes!”

Many still cheered.

But not all.

“You’ll kill her!” Bucky warned, his voice growing hoarse in his desperation. His anger quickly evolved to panic. “She’s not full blood, Lawrence! She won’t survive under the water!”

Lawrence paused, a sinister smirk curving up at the corners of his lips. “Then it is a fitting death for a half-breed.” He turned back to the crew; one hand grasped at the chains around your wrist, the other pushed up above his head in a rallying cry. “I say we let her drown!”

Applause broke out, sinking a dead weight in your stomach, sealing your fate. Bucky looked out to his crew and something shattered on his face – his eyes wide, his breaths coming in shallow and trembling.

“Don’t do this,” Bucky’s strangled voice carried through the cheers. “Lawrence... please. You don't have to do this.”

Lawrence paused, but only long enough spit at the deck. “She’s made you weak. Pathetic. I will free you of her spell and soon, Captain, you will thank me.”

But Bucky only shook his head, an awful mixture of disbelief and agony warping its way through his features. His knees trembled, nearly giving out under him, and still, he fought against the men securing him with every ounce of strength he had left.

You met Bucky’s frantic gaze from across the deck – his own eyes brimmed red and reflective with unshed tears under the setting sun – and in an impossible moment, you tried to convey the years of unspoken words you never had a chance to tell him.

Your appreciation for the day he offered you a place amongst his crew.

The pride you felt sailing under his flag – the legend of a ruthless pirate who displayed more honor than men of the crown who wore colorful pins upon the breast of their uniforms.

The aching need to be close to him, to feel the steady pulse of his heart under your fingertips and ease the pain lingering from his wounds.

Feelings beyond what you had ever been able to put name to; stronger that the rush of panic as Lawrence dragged you to the ledge, deeper than the ocean’s floor you’d soon find a home in. Feelings that ripped through your chest and begged for every inch of him. Feelings that rendered you foolish and reckless enough to expose your nature to the very men who would soon take your life for it.

But there wasn’t enough time to confess any of it.

Lawrence shoved a heavy hand to your chest and you began to stumble.

Bucky kicked out the knee of one of the men holding him restrained in a terrible crack, creating a small opening that let him break free of their hold. They lunged for him as he dove from their reach. Sprinting. Your name a terrible, frantic plea his lips.

Your feet left the ground, the railing digging into your spine.

Bucky lunged for you, but a sword swung down in his path. Lawrence.

Freefall.

You hit the water. Enclosing around you. Cold. Ice Cold.

And then – silence.

You held your last breath of air deep into your lungs. It would last you longer than you should have been allowed as a human; a few extra minutes at most. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no freeing yourself of the chains as you sank deeper into the water.

This was it. The end. The icy embrace of the waters you had called home your entire life.

Perhaps it had always known you would return to its clutches. Even in death.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #pirate au #pirate!bucky #pirate x siren

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pinkiebieberpie · 2 years

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pirate!bucky and his siren!girlfriend

what's your favorite scary moodboard?

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lady-laree-world · 1 year

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Mermaid eyes

Chapter I

Bucky Barnes x mermaid!reader

a/n: ok so i've recentely discovered the mermaid!au and because there aren't too many fics on that i decided to write them by my own. this is just a part of my idea, let me now if you want that to be a serie. i hope you'll like it and sorry for eventual errors but english isn't my first language. Love ❤️

The morning had been fairly uneventful despite the high winds and rain, but the rain did not last more than a few minutes, and Captain Barnes found himself leaning against the bow of the boat enjoying the sea breeze. The strong wind had been very useful today and they had almost reached the gulf where they would finally have some rest on dry land before setting off again.

However, the pleasant wind on the surface was the cause of many problems on the seabed, especially for the little mermaids who are still unable to swim against the current. Lily in fact, despite the numerous recommendations of her sister y/n, had not hesitated even a second to follow a group of dolphins that headed towards the surface, attracted by the trail left by a ship. That day, frightened by the unusual currents, your mother had forced you to follow her, to make sure she wasn't carried away by the strong currents. Lily was so busy playing and having fun that she didn't realize she was being pulled so close to the boat that she suddenly started throwing numerous nets into the sea to catch as many dolphins as possible. You swam as fast as you could and fortunately managed to avoid Lily becoming trapped and, after pushing her away and releasing the only two dolphins that had entered the net, you tried to swim away but a freshly cast net fell on you. You urged Lily to run away and warn the village of the danger she was about to reach it, trying to reassure her that you would be able to get out safe and sound . Lily set off trying to attract the attention of all the inhabitants and right at that moment the net began to be brought towards the surface. You tried in every way to free yourself but there was no way: your tail was stuck and the ropes of the net were almost impossible to break.

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uselesssomebody · 2 years

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𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 - 𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 (lighthouse keeper!bucky barnes x siren!reader)

complete masterlist | mcu masterlist | bucky barnes masterlist

“𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕠𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟” - the lighthouse | halsey

words || 𝟙.𝟜𝕜

summary || in which the reader begins her onslaught

series masterlist || the lighthouse masterlist

a/n || !! i suggest you read the masterlist post before reading this in order to understand the heavy content featured here !! ➵ hey if you haven't read my eddie munson x reader series high school sweethearts immediately stop what you're doing and go read it !! ➵ sorry the part is so short, and i'm gonna try to get these parts for this fic out more regularly

taglist || @redbloodedgurl

warnings || angst ➵ talk of religion (christianity) ➵ reader killing someone

steve rogers was a methodical man.

he would wake early, careful not to interrupt the slumber of his current counterpart, knowing both sam and bucky enjoyed a lie-in. he’d brew a pot of coffee on the measly stove at the bottom of the cramped, circular building, resting against a hastily-made wooden counter-top as he logged the weather of the - usually - quaint mornings. his friends always felt a bit bad, seeing as this record-keeping was meant to be a joint duty, but steve didn’t mind.

in the mornings, he would do a small check around the island. it was really an excuse for him to walk around - he’d never really seen much of the ocean as a child, so he cherished the slow waves and smooth rocks of the beach as much as possible now. he would check for stranded stragglers, but, so far, he’d not really found any.

well, there was that one time - a few months ago - when he was sure he’d seen the silhouette of a woman on the beach. he’d spent that whole day looking for her, worried for her seemingly tattered state. he never did find her, though - chalking it up to his imagination.

after his check, he would trek to the chapel of a saint on the tallest hill of the island. there, he would pray - for a safe, calm and happy life. steve was a faithful man, devout in his religion, and his faith was a stark contrast to his military peers - who were christians only in name. sometimes he worried for bucky and sam’s lack of faith, but he never felt it in his place to preach to them.

he’d come back, to see sam sitting on the low, rickety chairs, reading to pass the time. bucky was on a leave, and - right now - steve was quite jealous of him. he’d always been a family man, finding himself to miss his wife and kids dearly when he wasn’t with them. he supposed it came with the job, though.

he had a later lunch than usual that day, a break from his routine. while it didn’t really bother him, he couldn’t help but have a small nag in the back of his head chastising him for straying from the usual. he’d always been a bit superstitious - in no part helped by his strong faith. his methods came from a place of serenity - his routine from a place of knowing. when that changed, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit uneasy.

sam had left after lunch to denote the temperature and atmosphere readings. steve had settled with a book - something he’d borrowed off bucky. out of the pair, steve had never been one for books, but realized the long periods of solitude seemed to pass faster whenever he had a good one. and he found his best friend’s taste rather immaculate.

it’d only been an hour - sam was thorough if he was anything, leaving to denote his observations for at least a few hours at a time - when steve noticed him through the thinly veiled curtains of the window by the door.

though, for some reason, the other man seemed to walk straight past the lighthouse.

steve’s eyes immediately furrowed, a little confused by his close friend’s behavior. he glanced at the page of his book, memorizing it - as opposed to dog-earing like bucky or sam - and placed it down, dusting his pants as he stood up. he could see the light breeze outside, slipping on a thin jacket over his shirt.

he opened the door to a wind harsher than he expected, so he gritted his teeth, placing his hands deep into his pockets. he could see sam in the corner of his eyes, and he seemed - like a madman - to be walking to the beach. steve couldn’t understand why, as sam constantly bemoaned the cold, never setting foot near the water even in a light breeze.

“sam!” steve called after him, definitely loud enough for the other man to hear, but he doesn’t even seem fazed. like he wasn’t even there.

steve could feel his heartbeat spike a bit, and the nagging voice had become louder - more violent. he was quick to follow sam, suddenly feeling as though the situation wasn’t weird, but worrying.

sam was on the beach, right by the water, and steve noticed his movements to be inhuman and machine-like - janky and rigid.

“sam, what the hell are you doing?” steve wasn’t one for strong language - believing it to be blasphemous - but, because of the cold, because of sam and because of that damn voice, he couldn’t even think. he could hear a buzzing in his ears, and the corners of his eyes prickled with an unfamiliar sensation - looking and feeling the way that radio static sounded.

he felt a strange urge to vomit, and the beach became more blurry in his vision. the sand seemed to be slipping out under him, and, when he felt the saline on his lips, he realized why.

“sam, please!” he was scared, so scared, as he felt another tear glide down his cheek. his friend didn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear him, and it made him want to throw something. his eyes kept seeing dark, spotty shapes, or fluorescent, blinding lights - the type you see when you blink too hard. except they weren’t going away.

he blinked once, twice, thrice in a futile attempt to get rid of them. he wiped his eyes, looking back up and - even through his distorted vision - he could see that sam wasn’t there anymore. his head was moving erratically, in an attempt to re-find the man’s silhouette. finding no luck, he lunges forward, running to find him - fearing for the worst.

he didn’t even know what worst was.

the sandy beach collapsed under him, and he found his body to crumple into the meeting between the tide and land. before he could even comprehend, a massive wave washed over him, knocking him backwards, his head slightly submerged in the receding water. he gasped without thought, allowing the seawater to sit on his tongue and enter his throat. he shot up, sitting on his knees as he coughed and coughed to get the liquid out.

another wave knocked him forward, and he placed his hands out before he could fall once again. the course, wet sand stained his now-heavy jacket, and he could feel the fine grain all over his hands, his arms, his legs - every crevice felt infested with the coarseness of it.

alongside the coarseness on his chest, he found the bump of a cold metal, and he grasped at it quickly, ripping it off his neck and holding it his hands. the silver cross necklace that he'd always worn had dulled a bit in shine, but he could not care less, clutching it for dear life as he raised his hands.

in his head, a prayer chanted loud and proud, but the reality was the ghost of whispers leaving his salty lips and broken throat.

it made her smile.

he was begging, pleading, to his god - his savior. it would have been sweet, honestly, if it wasn’t so damn sickly.

he believed his prayer would ground him, his hands and eyes clasped tightly closed in the hopes of his intensity saving him, but the third wave knocks him down just the same, pulling him back into the ocean. his mouth pressed against the sand, and he truly thought he had inhaled some of it, his lungs on fire.

“please - please!” it’s a weak cry, and seeing his broken expression makes her hole of a heart wrench - if only for just a moment.

in his clouded mind, he could only make out one shape.

her.

the wave washed over him once again, and he let it. it pulled - and pulled, and he let it.

he’s not praying for himself anymore - he’s praying for them. his family: his wife, kids, sam - bucky.

“bucky-” his rock, his partner, his hero, his best friend. she heard the name escape his lips in a choked gargle, and even he could see her face contort from serpentine to scared.

she’d run out of time, though. she could always sense when someone’s time had run out, and his just had. as had hers.

she fell into the sand, her clothes being pulled by the sea and her bare knees scraping against the rocks. she cradled the limp body of the keeper, his blond hair falling and sticking to his face.

she wondered what she’d done. she’d wondered if it was worth it.

and then she remembered his laugh. and she realized that there was no going back.

because he was.

#the lighthouse #siren reader #sailor bucky #sea #ocean #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #mcu imagine #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan #halsey #sickly sweet

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kilikina34512 · 2 years

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A Siren's Call

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: It's late and your body is starving. It's taken all night until you stumble upon the perfect meal - James. A tall, hunky, metal-armed man that looks like he needs a distraction as bad as you need a night of pleasure. Why not compel him to indulge in just that?

Warnings: mildly dub con, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), Bucky dirty talk is a warning on its own, it's smut guys expect hot things to happen so only 18+ beyond here.

Word Count: 3,170

I hope you enjoy another contribution to Kinktober. I'm so in love with this one and I hope you will be too! This one was inspired by The Bargainer series by Laura Thalassa. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

It was late at night and you were walking the streets of New York starving. You'd spent a good hour combing the sidewalks of the nightclub area you lived near, but for some reason, you couldn't find a single appetizing piece of meat. Typically, you didn't struggle with this. Typically, you weren't overly picky.

Something had you choosing selectively this night though.

Out of frustration, you would've turned around and gone home and tried again tomorrow, if this were any other night. You knew that if you did that, you'd be lethargic tomorrow. Dragging yourself out of bed to find food tomorrow would be too much work.

Aside from the fact that something, something, was keeping you searching.

Another twenty minutes of strolling the streets and you were finally ready to just accept the fate of what tomorrow would bring. Maybe if you took a soak in the tub or went for a swim in the ocean, you could handle the side effects of not feeding, but it wouldn't take away the extreme fatigue, the aches, the grumpiness, the feeling of starvation, only reduce it.

Flipping about would have to be the answer to your solution because no matter how many eateries you passed, none of them would satisfy your needs.

Turning around to go home, that's when you saw what you needed. The meal to satisfy your hunger.

A man easily six feet tall was walking in your direction. Broad and beefy, his solid white shirt and black pants molded to his body, the leather jacket he sported only giving him a bad boy vibe. His short brunette hair stood out against his pale skin every time he was underneath the glow of a street light. With his head down and his shoulders looking stiff, you couldn't help but feel that this man had a tremendous weight on his shoulders. A weight you could help loosen while satisfying your starvation.

You weren't sure why, but this man was calling to you. You quietly huffed out a chuckle incredulously at the realization. You were a siren. You called and lured men to you, not the other way around.

But that didn't change the pull you felt to him. Following the instincts of the creature you were, you slowly approached him, stepping into his path and forcing him to stop. As soon as he did, his head shot up and your gaze was ensnared by blue eyes that reminded you of the depths of the ocean that called to your nature.

He blinked, breaking the trance you'd been stuck in, and said, "Excuse me." With that, he stepped around you and began walking down the street again. Away from you.

The siren in you was instantly aggravated at this. You could feel your hackles rising at the insult to you. That beautiful man, that delicious prey, just strolled away from you as if it couldn't sense the predator standing in front of him.

Does he not realize that you could ensnare him the same way his eyes ensnared you? Does he not see that your beauty was unmatched by any normal human being? Does he not know that with a few notes of a melody, you could have him doing your bidding?

You could have him do something as embarrassing as picking his nose in front of a room full of people to as heinous as forcing him to slit his own throat. Not that you would, you were too hungry - and typically too moral - to do anything along that spectrum. You needed to feed, to recharge your siren. The best, most enjoyable, most legal and moral way you've found to do that is by sleeping with someone under your thrall.

And that was exactly what you had planned for the prey that's walking away.

Keep reading here.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #ao3fic #bucky fic #oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #smut #dubious consent #siren #unprotected sex #p in v

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urdepressedslut · 7 months

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Love Me to Death

✧ Pairing — Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Fem!Reader

✧ Summary — The Avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Warnings — light angst, hints to past trauma, mentions of bucky’s trauma, hints to PTSD, hints of anxiety

series masterlist ✧ inbox open

You would never get over the view of the Atlantic Ocean. The way you found yourself getting lost as your eyes focused further and further into the distance. The way the earth curved, the way it appeared the ocean just dropped off. Nobody could ever know what went on out there, what happened when there were no wandering eyes. The secrets that the water held, the dark beauty that painted the waters.

Of course, this wasn’t a goodbye forever— just for a while. You couldn't help the pain that formed in your chest, the way your eyes watered at the last view glimpses of your home.

"You about ready to go (Y/n)?" Fury asked from the sand below.

You turned your head towards him, not missing the quick flash of guilt that passed through his expression. You turned back towards the water, taking one last deep breath in— the crisp air filling your lungs.

"If everything works out the way it should— you'll be back here soon." He reminded you, and you knew that was an estimation.

It was the best outcome that you'd return— but the chances were slim. Considering everything, this might as well be the last time you'll ever set foot on this rock, looking at this view that you'd grown to love so much.

You stepped down from the rock, standing next to Fury with a solemn look. You shook your head and avoided his eyes, you couldn't seem to come up with a good answer— so you shoved your way of communicating in your pockets. Plus, you didn't feel like signing a bullshit response— you were upset and you had the right to be.

"Remember I'm not the bad guy here, and neither are you. This is just how things need to be for a while." He reminded you, trying his best to make this feel less forced.

You gave in and signed the only thing you could come up with for now.

I know. You signed before you shoved your hand back in your pocket.

He gave a tiny smile, one that didn't seem genuine but you didn't seem to care too much.

“I don’t know why I have to be here.” Bucky grumbled, running a hand through his hair in stress.

Natasha rolled her eyes, giving Sam a smack on the head to wake him up. He was falling asleep on the couch when it wasn’t the time.

“Rude! I was sleeping.” Sam complained.

“Don’t care— and Buck you need to be here. We are receiving a new recruit.” She explained.

Bucky let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders— wondering why Nat. thought he cared.

“We always receive new recruits. What’s so different about this one?” He wondered, earning a stare from the redhead before she replied.

Her features grew serious, all kicking and joking stripped from her face.

“This one is enhanced… and deadly.”

His eyes widened and all at once he understood his place now. He was here when things went wrong— the expendable one. Although it made his jaw clench, slight anger running through his veins— he nodded in understanding otherwise.

Natasha seemed to read him without him having to utter another word, she immediately backtracked.

“God, it’s like I can hear you thinking— you’re here because you’re part of the team. Everyone, including you is meeting her.” She corrected, watching his features soften slightly.

“How do you do that?” He asked, squinting his eyes in defense.

She was always able to read his mind, hell— everyone’s!

She laughed, shrugging her shoulder— avoiding to answer his question to mess with him.

“She’s a woman, of course she can read your thoughts. They all can.” Sam added from the couch, trying to drift back to sleep.

Natasha threw a pillow at Sam’s face, taking him by surprise.

“Oh shut it Wilson.” She mumbled, with a roll of her eyes.

“Ow! Why’re you so violent today?” He asked, sitting up and walking towards the bookshelf in the living room.

Natasha smiled to herself, taking his words more as a compliment than an insult.

“Everyone else will be here soon, but seriously— I know you know what it’s like to feel like an outsider when you first showed up here. I want you to help her out, okay?” The redhead asked, earning a scowl from him.

“Why me? Everyone at some point has had to feel like that too— c’mon Nat! I was just starting to settle down here, almost have a little routine for myself. How do you know she won’t be afraid of me— I’m sure she’ll know who I am.” He rambled on, complaint after complaint.

The redhead rubbed a hand down her face.

“I’m not asking you to marry her— just help her out, while she’s settles in.” She told him.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He nodded, but kept a scowl on his face. This was not how he expected the day to go.

Soon enough, Fury was walking a surprisingly pretty woman into the room where all the Avengers either stood or sat waiting.

It wasn’t supposed to be a dig, Bucky only assumed she’d be less… pretty— with the way Natasha had described her. Deadly. He was expecting a more disturbed, haunting character— not this beautiful face.

“I’m sure all of you have heard whispers here and there— so this isn’t entirely new to any of you. Well… maybe some of you.” Fury mumbled, looking in Sam’s direction. “You are receiving a new member. She will be an amazing addition to the team— powerful and will help keep you all alive.”

Everyone said hello, waving and sending warm smiles her way— Bucky could only imagine the nerves of this woman with all the staring.

She seemed to be holding up quite well, in fact— she seemed glum. Her face was sagging with defeat every so slightly— enough for Bucky to notice of course. He immediately felt drawn to her distress, wanting to know the cause of it.

“Now, as all of you noticed. She doesn’t speak, and will not speak unless she is to do so. Meaning while in a mission, or any other situation where one of you are in danger.” Fury explained.

Bucky couldn’t help the frown that formed in his face. It felt wrong to listen to Fury talk about her like she was an object and nothing more— just a weapon at their hands. He felt uncomfortable, and almost like a flash in his quick blinks— he suddenly remembered the same feeling back at HYDRA. All of a sudden— it was personal.

“Can I ask why she can’t speak?” Natasha wondered, voicing what most of us were thinking.”

It felt weird to talk about her like she wasn’t standing right in front of us— but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Guess you wouldn’t be bothered either, after years of someone speaking for you.

There was that uncomfortable feeling again.

“Yes, that was the next thing I wanted to discuss.” Fury started, letting the woman take a seat beside him. “(Y/n) is a Siren. One peep from her and you all would fall under a spell. A love spell, you could say.”

Everyone went silent, taking in the new information. Nobody knew how to react— as nobody had experience with a Siren before. In fact— mostly everyone assumed Siren’s were a myth.

“So… what? (Y/n) talks and we all go in a trance? How do you get out of it?” Scott asked from the back row.

Fury shook his head, sneaking a glance at (Y/n) before speaking.

“You don’t. You stay trapped in the trance until death.” Fury finished.

Everyone’s mouth went into O’s, silence taking over the room yet again. Half of the group were intimidated— while the other half which contained the stronger Avengers, such as Thor and Wanda— they were impressed.

“A love spell that kills you? Wow.” Natasha muttered to herself, having never heard of something like this before.

(Y/n) surprised everyone when she started signing something in her seat, a shameful expression on her face as she did so.

“What did she just say?” Sam asked, looking at both Bucky and Nat.

Bucky and Natasha shared a look with each other, looking back a you before revealing to the rest of the group.

“She said, you’ll love me to death.” Natasha told them.

Everyone grew rigid at that sentence. The sinister way the endearing saying went from sweet to dark. Even Wanda and Thor gulped, swallowing in fear. (Y/n) was new too, nobody knew if they could trust her yet. Even with the approval from Fury— everyone felt a little on edge.

Meanwhile, Bucky gazed at her with a new fascination. Something in him pushed him towards her— something inside him wanted to know everything about her.

He wondered why.

A/N: this seems short and i’m sorry if it feels rushed, but i just wanted to get this out there. has been sitting in my drafts for awhile. hasn’t been proof read 👀

TAGLIST: @billy-reads @potatothots @buckyb-stan @kmc1989 @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @stilesofhannah @skittle479 @marvelogic @meetmeatyourworst @engie115 @wilsons-striped-ties @x209x @kandis-mom @l0kilaufeys0n7

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darkdemeter · 2 months

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

A/N — Ey yo let’s go! Here it is, part 2!

Dark, pirate Bucky — possessive Bucky, also feat. possessive reader — profanity — angst! — mention of alcohol — pet names ("Siren") — SMUT 18+ Minors DNI — unprotected (given) p in v sex — mention of marks/hickeys — there be depiction of wenches/prostitutes — semi-exhibitionism — mention of memory wipe through magic — minor cigar consumption (not reader) — very brief depiction of harm against a crew member — Rumlow, he's a bit of a sly creep — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

You are his siren. Why do you insist on your curiosity when you know it will only get you into trouble? In your captain's search for the ancient treasure, a temple only you know the location of, the voyage will take momentary port in Nassau. Mina, a fellow siren, reveals to you the dark truth that you have been blind to. Lied to. She encourages you to take back the necklace. The time to be a siren is now, to lure your captain into a false sense of devotion, that your sights and desires only draw to him; and not the necklace bound to his hand and the secrets he's been keeping from you.

*6.1𝐤 ────────────────┘

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl @daddy-bucky @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @armystay89

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Dawn kisses the horizon’s rolling waters, erasing the wicked hue of intermingling black and blue with colours brighter, more promising, to bloom over sky and sea. A sight that portraits serenity in order to inspire a welling of hope. The flaming orb of heat commands to stir the once slumbering crew into action. Little does it work to awaken your captain, already awake and buried deep in the channel of your cunt, his cock surges forward aggressively, tip kissing your cervix with each powerful snap of his hips.

Relentless, he rolls in tandem with the rock of the ship, a string of grunted breaths and deep, stuttering groans thrum in the cavern of his large chest, heart hammering against his ribcage.

He pulls from you another countless orgasm to add to another countless hour of this tortuous bliss. A flushing, white and hot, seizes hold of you and beckons your body to respond accordingly, trained in his art of greed your legs drag over the terrain of defined muscle to bring him impossibly closer. Skin melding to inked skin, sweat laced bodies mingling in heated, frictional euphoria.

“Y’love that, Siren? Huh,” he pants on the shell of your ear, “love it when I have you full of me?”

You mewl a small, whiney sound.

“Yes—” you intake sharply, “C-Captain…”

“Aye, say it again.” He growls deeply, teeth nip the lobe of your ear, his nose buried in the crook of your neck inhales deeply the sweet dew of your flushed skin. Rough and strong, his hands have yours pinned, as he does your entire body, pressed against blood-red and snowy white velvets and silks and dark, exotic furs once belonging to pompous princes. Now, they belong to the king of the sea and his siren. Hips rolling together in time, fingers interlacing, woven together in bound strength to hold each other as guarded lifelines, the webbing between your slender digits draws and withdraws from their tucked beds of skin. Pupils conflict between dark, slitted lines and circular globes of blackness blown in pleasure.

“Shit… fuck– so fuckin’ tight, Siren!” he hisses, “mine… only mine.”

Already your core burns enticingly, welcoming another orgasm that follows closely behind your one just prior. His navel arcs to brush your clit, the girth of his cock strikes true each time, he pummels harder and faster, his tip the only portion to remain before he thrusts forward with a moistened glide.

Corded notes of pleasure are threaded into hitched knots, producing small, hiccuping whines as your abused, slickened walls constrict around his cock to milk him of every drop. The small bridge of your back arches, the smooth surface of your salty skin gliding over the defined divots and scars of his muscular front, inch by inch you feel him everywhere; both outside and inside.

He’ll never let you go. As a man who prides himself in the fine freedoms of piracy, he’s a blackened heart that guards you with vigorous possessiveness. Nor do you think you’re capable of ever leaving him. He is all you have. He is yours just as much as you are his.

The treasure he covets with unmatched greed. No woman on this earth could ever encounter what you have above you and between your quivering legs that loop tightly over his strong waist. And because of this, you equally covet this treasure of yours.

His cock ruts your cervix roughly, tugging forth a long, high noted yelp underlined with a breathy huff, the rhythm of his hips stutters at the sound. His pink lips find yours, tongue drawing over your own, your submission allowing him to do as he pleased. He feeds off the chorus of your breathless song, a song meant just for him. Because of him.

“Fuckin’ hell…” His voice rasps, teeth sinking into the bend where your shoulder and neck meet. “Love it when y’sing for m— me.” A gut-emitted groan reverberates in his chest, Skin meets skin in synchronised slapping, raw and primal with need. Wooden legs rub and claw the floorboards with heavy creaks.

“L–look atcha… huh, whiney and cock drunk– mmm, gonna make you scream for me, Love.”

His thrusts grow as ruthless as the brewing storms of the sea, lashing and rocking you beyond the point of refusal. There is no denying, no pushing away. Not when it comes to your captain.

“C’mon, Siren—” He pants with a series of rushing thrusts that pin you down. “Sing for me.”

The erected peeks of your breasts are tender as they push against his chest. You whimper softly.

“Captain…”

“Aye, louder,” he growls. Of his flesh hand, his knuckles whiten dangerously until the skin melts over bone. Another harsh snap of his hips sends you spiralling on the verge of your orgasm.

“Captain—” you gasp and he bites down into the bevel between your collarbone with a rasping growl. “Captain!”

Your velvety walls tighten around the hardened length penetrating you, filling you, his cock encumbered by the vice of your cunt. The blinding flash covers your vision and heat spreads through every corner of your body, leaving nothing but a siren blinded in lustful bliss. He groans with each drag and push, muscles glistening in the soft glow of the rising sun. The flowing wave of his precious seed finds purchase in your lower abdomen.

It’s not until he completely empties his hot load, does he finally slow his pace to a stop. Above you he pants heavily, each breath reminding you of the sea’s spray and sun-tainted breeze that tousles the darkened locks of his hair.

Your energy sapped from the unbridled temper of your beloved captain, you find reprieve in the gentleness of his tongue tracing the numerous dark marks covering your skin - his marks.

“Know this…” His voice rumbles lowly, his flesh hand harbouring the necklace dangles it mere inches over your parted lips. “There is nothing for you to find in a dried pearl, Siren. I am all you need.”

Metal squeezes your jawline, pursuing your understanding. The pink tip of his tongue wets his lips and he arches a brow.

“Yes…”

You needn’t be jostled twice by the threat of his grasp, you whisper, voice barely audible, “…Captain.”

“Atta girl.”

Arriving at port in Nassau means safe haven for the crew of The Avenger, a chance to rekindle spirits with a few dozen barrels of liquor and a woman’s belly to keep any weathered sailor happy. In the Caribbean’s turning and heating morn, gulls scavenge for pickings of food, the white banks of sand converging with the blue tinged tide bathe the nudity of your feet with absorbed heat, it brings an irate wince to cross your features. Over the vast stretch of beach and headed further inland, the jolly tune of harboured pirates emit from the wooden, creaky shacks, if not counting the ruckus of noisy patrons enjoying their paid company.

Never did your captain have need for such sleaziness, such lazed women who lounge in wait for coins to fill the near-always empty drawstring bag tied to their thigh. He had you. To hold you close to the scorching warmth of his battle hardened body, to passionately entangle your limbs in an endless thread of desire, and to bask in the radiance that is one another; the possession of a companion no other can have.

And your own guard for your beloved captain doesn’t go unnoticed, by either him or the hungering gazes of those women yet in wait, your arms encircling around the bulk of Bucky’s flesh arm, in your neck the muscles strain as your fangs become elongated in a threatening display, the disguise of your eyes falters into narrow strips of glaring obsidian.

These women are no strangers to the presence of sirens, in spite of the limited number of population, a siren’s prize is never to be taken from her.

“Easy, Lass,” Bucky coos, lips drawn on either side into a charming grin. “There’s none suiting my fancy but you.”

His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful glares of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few members of the crew huff in their amusement.

With the crew tailing loyally behind their captain, each body a weighted husk ready to drown themselves in all that Nassau offers, the striking colour of a scarlet coat saunters forward in the corner of your vision. In a briefly stolen glance to your side, the brilliance of her green irises invade you with a soulless engagement, full lips drawn into a thin line and below the crimson stripe of her bandana, her brows are furrowed.

It comes to mind Bucky’s attendance on deck to anchor the ship at port, and so too does the possible thought that during that increment amount of time, Bucky could have very well informed Wanda of your curious skirmish ending in upheaval, caught red handed in the act.

And yet the events, the memory of what you experienced - the estranged bond you shared with the necklace - all of it remains. No bouts of stomach churning nausea or blurred hazes that leave you to stumble on your two feet, abandoning you to the mindless plane of confusion where memory is your worst and forgotten enemy.

And you prefer to keep it that way. These invasions that leave you more curious, sensing something greatly amiss the more of its occurrence is known, perhaps it’s best if you surrender the search. Your captain is all you need. Nevermind the ghostly songs that haunt the realm beneath the surface. Maybe, just maybe, there is good reason why you don’t remember anything. And if you cease this affair, then maybe with the grace of your beloved, that there will be no need to be swallowed into the misty thicket of her dark, scarlet magic.

I am my captain’s siren. I must remain with him. He is all I have. All I want to have…

‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hmm~hm~mm… mhm.,.’

The melody chimes to lure your attention, the trickery of the voices blooms thickly throughout the forefront of your mind. You press to ignore the empty promise of their secrets revealed. This search ends now. No more. In defiance to the woeful, bleeding song of murmured hums, your arms hold tighter to Bucky, his chin dips low as his blue eyes look you over, gorgeous eyes of the ocean, captured within the handsome sculpture of his visage. A forbidden make of marble, carven with perfection in mind.

‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hm—’

“Something the matter, Siren?” thrums the husky drawl of your captain. You turn your eyes - your entire form of attention - to him, devoting it to him alone, and not to the tune that wanes with grieving cries that drown in the mists of that plane. You shake your head with refined elegance and bring a smile to grace him with.

“Nothing, my Captain,” you purr sweetly. Voice soft enough to easily die in the crashing of heavy waves, but so throbbing to the heart that the lilted beat of your voice could never be lost to him. Bucky grins at your words, respite is found in the security of your vow. Not only does your answer satisfy him immensely, but it draws Wanda’s intense focus away from you.

The quartermaster, Steve Rogers, is met in an engulfing embrace by a striking brunette with bouncy curls, lips bright and red and grinning, brown eyes sparkling in the Nassau’s brimming sun. Truth be told, she was far too pretty to be a mere human, her beauty akin to a glistening ruby, and maybe it saddens you the littlest bit that she foresees you with eyes of weariness rather than friendliness.

Perhaps if she were a siren herself, you’d both have settled together rather fondly as friends - as bonded sisters. But alas, with her own treasure now ashore for now, she takes to him and welcomes him with moaning cords and absorbing kisses, Bucky chuckles slyly with a wink to his exhausted friend.

Weather-beaten tables score the large deck of the tavern, most of them being vacant outside, but given the beginnings of your skin drying out, Bucky takes care to situate you as close to a shaded spot. Something you are noticeably grateful for with your cheek nuzzling into the openly revealed space of his chest, the belted strips of leather strapped over his chest warm your skin as well as his skin.

Casting you in flittering shadows are the swaying palms, their long and prickly spine leaves howling in the sea’s constant winds driven ashore. While other members of the crew flee to their own affairs to relax, those of Bucky’s inner circle remain close, like cards held to his chest, and you being the winning ace of his games, are held the closest.

“Restock of the ship’s supplies will take all day, not to mention, the girl needs a few restorations herself,” says Bruce, spectacles resting low upon the bridge of his nose, eyes finalising his scrawlings as his voice confirms. His hand runs over the plump of his cheek with a drained sigh, middle finger pushing the brass loop of his glasses upwards.

“And that’ll spend us… half our funds.”

“Wouldn’t need to waste so much coin on crackers ‘nd other shite, had someone not snuck ‘round like a rat.” Clint’s eyes squint in his accusation towards none other than the master of maps and navigation, Stark, who partakes in defending himself behind a weak shrug.

“There’s actual rats aboard. T’wasn’t me.”

Clint’s upper lip curls into a sneer, the ship’s cook primed to render Stark into salted meatloaf, a dullened knife he took to using in both battle and kitchen is held in his nimble fingers.

“Fuckin’ thievin’—”

“Quit your squabbling,” rumbles your captain, “strike what isn’t needed for the voyage. Double on reinforcements and armoury.” His gruff voice sends tingles through your still connected cheek to his front, content in hearing its booming and steady beat. Bruce nods and returns his gaze downward to his leatherbound companion, quill resipping ink, he scribbles into his book once again, humming and murmuring to himself.

Bruce Banner, though quite brutal in the midst of battles, is a relatively quiet man who tends to keep to himself for most of his membership as a crewmate. Often he dwells below decks, counting stock, taking note of damages and overall engaging the skin of parchment rather than a woman.

Not to completely disregard the sometimes scarce glances between himself and the fiery, flintlock dancer herself, Natasha, eyes meeting between the wooden blanks separating their worlds from dark to light. If history is planted there, there is little to know in your knowledge - your hazy knowledge. From what you’ve gathered, Natasha has a tongue that leaves many of the males on board chest torn and heart bleeding, in dire need for her to bandage them with a moment of her time. Time that she rather spent either dancing in the heat of conflict, pulling the ship in order or occupy herself with you.

In comparison to the neighbouring woman often skulking silently by Bucky’s heel like a prowling animal on a leash, Natasha offered you what nobody else truly had; a connection. Someone you can maybe call friend.

By no means is she completely softened around you, she pushes you beyond your limits, but in her interactions with you, she layers herself with a bout of steadiness and calm to keep you level headed at best. She even takes the time to teach you letters and words of human speech. Too nervous to ask such a tedious task of your own captain, it had been Natasha called upon to teach you.

Under her mentorship, she had governed you away from the native tongue of your sea dwelling folk, and what had at first been mistaken as the ship’s adored feline, Alpine coughing up a fish bone, had just been you taking the first step in learning to speak the language of humans. Only then and afterwards did your captain also take part in your teaching, albeit through a more erotic means of lessons behind the closed door of his cabin.

Steve returns with a sway to his step, Peggy held snug to his hip, the two bound by invisible, sticky sap that glues them together. “We’ve drinks comin’, Cap!” He laughs with a clap to Bucky’s broad shoulder, jostling you forward with a startled whine, eyes stinging and dry in alertness.

You miss catching it at first, the sharpened glare of ice in his eyes towards Steve for his abrupt disturbance of you, the blonde haired man, lass-drunken already, clicks his tongue with a grimace of offered sincerity, uttering a quiet apology under his heated breath.

Bucky is only willing to let his scowl go after you assure the quartermaster that there is no harm done, excusing yourself that your fatigue had gotten the better of your guard.

Flared tempers now cooled, Steve leans back against the rickety stage of the deck’s plank railing. The ruffled skirts of his companion’s dress ride a little higher on her thigh as she rests it over his lap, drawstring bag visible… and fattened with coin. Paid very early in advance. Paid full with at least three weeks worth of salary strapped to her leg.

A chorus of cheers spill out into the open air when tankards of foam-headed refreshments are delivered. Tony’s chapped lips bend around a cigar stick, catching a flame to his match by the heel of his boot, he lights it and puffs a smog that brings your nose to wrinkle and lungs to jump.

“Right,” he says, the end of the word lost in its pronunciation, “Down ter business.” The master of maps of navigation procures from his coat rolled parchments and lays them flat to the wooden rot, he knocks a knuckle hard in indication of the pirate’s haven.

“We’re here, Lassy. Show us where it is.” Silence falls over those of the inner circle, each pair of eyes lace between the strewn papers and your expression, gauging the lines around your eyes that speak of your concentration. In wait for either your truthful answer or another lie.

The tips of your fingers run the inked lines that describe the landmarks of islands, points of interest, known ship routes and x marks, whilst your captain’s own fingers trace along the outer of your thigh teasingly beneath the cover of your robe and the table. His touch is distracting you, but could you be to blame for their failure in search of the ancient treasure? After all, your memory wasn’t of best quality these days.

Tony rolls his fingers in a drumming pattern, each minute it grows louder and pounds in your eardrums, the wafting curtain of thick, cigar smoke clouds your senses.

Your captain, scowling at this, shoots his metal arm forward and plucks the cigar from Tony’s mouth and pushes the burning ash and tobacco into the veiny hide of his bare hand. Tony bites a string of curses as his hand retracts.

“Next time, it’s shoved down your fuckin’ throat, got it?”

“Aye, Cap…,” mutters Tony. He shoots you a seething glare but nevertheless, relinquishes his attempts to intimidate you into answering.

“You forget, sirens speak a certain way.” Comes the low purr of his lilt, breath hot against the shell of your ear, the encouragement of his hand snakes your thigh over into his lap, leaving your core, though hidden to others, exposed to his addictive touch. Your breath becomes latched in your lungs, struggling to be free and your toes curl as his flesh hand slips between your parted legs. “You just need to know how…”

You barely hide the hiccup in your erupting breath. His thumb, rough and firm, toys with the delicate bud that spurs the welling of arousal to moisten your folds. Behind the sealed line of his lips, he breezes a rich chuckle that courts you with promised, devoting attention to your clit, circling it slowly as the long, thick body of his middle finger runs further down your folds. The chill of gold grinds into your skin gently, the pearl hums lowly in the deep reverie of your mind once more, grazing your skin with a harmonic resurgence against the combating of Bucky’s explorative touch.

If the air had been thick with the sun’s heat before, then it was downright unbreathable now, your skin aches and itches to be submerged in the tranquil waters. You all but claw a single rocky formation on the far edge of the map. All eyes zero in on the point, taking in the towering form of inked rocks.

“You’ve to be jokin’,” Clint hisses quietly. Sam Wilson is the next to speak with a sigh, “That’s a death wish, Captain.”

“Siren, you’re sure?” Your head bows slowly to Bucky’s question and his thumb ceases its movement. Your finger situated over the landmark trembles, your throat is dry, saliva collects in thick rivulets and makes it difficult to swallow your despair.

Hushed whispers fall over the crew as Bucky’s smouldering eyes darken in thought, contemplating the high stakes. For your finger lands not just on the precise location of the temple harbouring the world’s greatest treasure horde any pirate or king alike could dream of.

It spans over into dangerous, uncharted territory. Territory that resides as a mass graveyard for ships and souls. The Misted Song Isles.

A bedded corner of the world untouched by sunlight, forever shrouded in a mist that never falters in its opacity, leaving many blinded to the ambushing predators that await them.

These cousins are the cause of your repulsion. They are not sirens. They do not possess the ability to sing beautifully anymore. That which haunts the mists are not curated melodies to turn a heart soft and a man stirred in longing, no, but devilish shrieks and wallowing howls that scream in revel of their kill.

“Captain, think about this for a sec—” The quartermaster, as is everyone else, silenced within an instant. You yelp and pull your hand close to your chest as the sharpened point of a blade punctures right where your finger had been. Your heart races against your ribcage.

“We set sail at dawn.”

His command goes unchallenged and hangs in the eeriness of uncertainty. His lips formulate into that smirk, daring of the course ahead, ready to face whatever thrilling adventure awaits him and his hardened crew.

“Prepare yourselves. We’ll soon amass a fortune like no other. Riches beyond belief,” Bucky preaches with a deepened, growling cord, thumb reviving the pleasing buzz between your thighs. Your head presses back into his shoulder, arching your core slightly into his hand. “I’ve never known those of my crew to shrink away from glory and plunder. So what of it, mates? Are you lot ready to take what’s ours?”

“Aye!” erupts a booming throng of cheers and hollering, tankards fly skyward with trickling, foamy ales, and fists pound the tables enthusiastically. From you, Bucky draws a softened, pleasured whine only captured by his ears, a musical note he licks his teeth in savouring delight.

“What a rousing speech, Captain Barnes. Touches my own heart.” The inner circle becomes disrupted, parting into a narrow corridor to give their captain sight of the outsider. Bucky’s thumb comes to pause again, much to the displeasure of your quiet grumbling, your eyes seek out the intruder and gape with widened eyes.

“Rumlow,” growls Bucky. His hand bares upon your thigh a tightening squeeze.

Brock Rumlow, captain of The Lady Strike, stands present, brown coat beaten and done in by the rough life at sea, tricorn equal in match to the rest of his dishevelled attire. Dark, matted and oily hair is swept behind his ears, stubble very much unkempt and in need of a shave. His brown eyes take in the near bareness of your form, your hand pulls the robe’s fabric over your already covered breasts, and Bucky curls you further inward, protecting you from the fowl leering of Rumlow’s dark eyes. His jaw is set hard as a deep, possessive growl emits from his large chest, the storm of his jealousy on the rise.

With a cock of his head, Tony shoves the plans back into the confines of his coat with a huff, missing the tangy flavour of his cigar.

By now, those of Rumlow’s crew move in behind him, a battle of glares and curled snarls, only one amongst the opposing crew brings a grin to fall over your face, eyes brightened in relief. Long, raven black hair sweeping down the curve of her back, strips of plaits are decorated with beads and small shells, A tall and lean build of a woman a few years older of your age, eyes the shape of almonds and disguised as kindly, sparkling hazels of greens and browns.

Her thin lips form a smile to match her tender features. You barely have another chance to second guess your next move, taking care to keep the intricately patterned robe around to protect your modesty, you push yourself away from your captain and fly into her open arms, her embrace a welcomed one after all these weeks.

“Mina!”

She greets your name with a softened breath, the calming lull of a siren’s power. The prodding of shells poke into your chest, but you pay little heed to them, too much absorbed into a fellow siren’s hold. To be held and nurtured by one so connected to the sea as you, and who is also held prisoner above its beckoning tides.

“My dear, your skin!” she gasps. Her lithe fingers skim the lengths of your exposed shoulders, shoving under the flowy sleeves to do the same along your arms. “How long has it been since—”

“She does not speak that way anymore.”

The voice of your captain is sharp, cutting right through to the bone, it chills you. You know you did wrong by your actions, caught in the flurry of your excitement to meet Mina. He hadn’t expressed his permission for you to leave his side.

Her eyes forecast the irritated slits, the ridge of her mouth shifting. You shake your head quickly. “Don’t…”

She listens to your plea and directs her gaze aside, retrieving back a more composed appearance. “Apologies, Captain Barnes. I forget her tongue falters and is now consumed by human speech. Please, forgive me.”

His eyes stare point blank akin to the barrel of his flintlock, finger locked ahold of the trigger and primed to fire a metal ball right between her eyes. He takes into account that her voice is dry in its sincere case that begs forgiveness. A case he finds unmoving.

And so it falls to you. Her arms fall from around you reluctantly, you press on towards Bucky, hands caressing the carved shape of his jawline. “Please, Captain… forgiveness?”

For a moment he is silent, his stare unwavering and unblinking, it churns your innards unassuredly. “Aye.” His response brings you to breathe again with a smile. You swallow thickly, steadying yourself with the words you have become accustomed to, at first rehearing it over in your thoughts before you speak.

“May I go to the Pools? My skin… is dry.” As if to further accentuate, the inflection of your voice matches your statement, having to clear your throat gently.

He nods. “Very well, Love. Hour’s half.” Ingratiating yourself in his good graces, you capture his lips in yours, his own chase after your brief kiss but the embarrassment that they give away just how parched your body is steers you away quickly.

You are blind to the narrowing of cold, steely eyes following Mina who walks at your side, arms encircling around you protectively, her own eyes meeting the ferocity of Bucky’s glare, her own hardened stare watered down to save you from being caught in the crossfire for her temper. She knows that you would suffer just as well as her if Bucky turned his decision around.

The conversing crews are drowned out noise in the back of your head, Mina guides you along the dirt path towards the haven’s centre.

The Pools, a central hub that extends low into the island’s heart, and a system of interconnected tunnels for sirens to rejuvenate their exerted bodies, confining them to an enclosure with no means to swim directly back into the ocean. By all means, it was a natural formation turned into a cage.

Peering over the rocky lips, the inviting waters below reflect minute glimpses of the sun, a portion of it concealed under the shrubbery and towering palms. The hue of bright blue blankets the surface before the long stretch of abyssal black that cascades down the rock walls.

The waters, as expected, are vacant of any other sirens, and those scarce few could only be seen in flashes of shining scales and shadows moving beneath, dipping into the mouths of the tunnels. Hidden from sight.

You shed the covering of your robe and set it aside, its luxurious fabric smelling of yours and Bucky’s intermingling scents, the decorative stitchwork and colours flaunt it as one of a kind, a nabbed piece from a Japanese merchant schooner Bucky and his crew pillaged, and which your captain presented to you as a gift. The first of many he would later present. Intriguing artefacts.

Mina didn’t have need to discard herself of human-given clothing, plunging into the heavenly waters before you, her attire made with the natural ingredients of the sea, leather strips and woven cords stretch around her chest and back with rings of shells to fasten over it, keeping her breasts pushed together. The wispy lengths of her skirt flows with sheeted seaweed, circling around her slim waist as a ghostly curtain. You follow not long after with an eager dive, your nude skin is soothed by the cool waters. Your legs morph together into the singular, powerful tendril of your trail, the webbed fins attached to your lower back flutter like the wings of a dove finding freedom on the winds.

Your bodies take refuge below the surface, skin no longer assaulted by the lacerations of the sun’s light and blazing scorch. How sailors could idle by whilst under the cruelty of it, you will never understand. Your back arches into a spiralling twist, a high pitched chirp bouncing from your throat and coursing through your gills.

You bask in the excitement with Mina who twists and bends, circling you with a teasing swish of her tail, she gargles a sweet note that bubbles around her lips, her forehead presses to yours affectionately.

She intends to regard you with the native speech of your kind but stops, brows falling into a firm, saddened line over her eyes. In shame, your head bows.

Those of your crew may have stripped you of your right to recollect the siren dialect, but if she can count on anything, it is the motion of her hands and arms. The common communication of one’s body.

In a sequence of expertise, her arms rotate and her fingers stretch and curl.

What do you remember?

Your eyes analyse her movement, careful to decipher her code. Not as fluent, given the occasional puzzled twist of her head, followed by a nod of understanding and correcting signal, she encourages through your hesitation, wanting for your answer.

I… remember a necklace. Bound to my Captain’s wrist.

And what did this necklace look like?

Again, it takes you a moment to find the rhythm of your response, her eyes narrow in their deep seated concentration, almond curved eyes that widen upon realisation.

You tell her of the golden chain, sleek and elegantly thin yet strengthened, the many, tiny crystallised pearls that line the gilded netting over one larger pearl, with a finer shaped one looped beneath it that dangles.

Given her momentary pause, you nervously motion.

What is it?

She raises her hand over her head, webbed fingers fused together, she rotates her wrist in circles.

Royalty. Pearls represent royalty.

The sudden confusion presently blinking in your eyes gives Mina reason to continue. She moves quickly, it’s hard to exactly understand, you motion for her to pace herself, that you’re struggling. With an apologetic chirp, she starts over.

You must get it back. That necklace is more significant to you than you realise. Undoubtedly, a gift from your late mother—

I don’t understand! What… of my mother?

Mina truly sees the sickening infection of your hazy memory, all too aware that it’s the doing of that scarlet witch, tainted by the dark magics that spawn from the mangroves, the teachers there no strangers to utilising sirens as part of their rituals. And all by the order of your captain. A crew lacing you with deceit.

Her waterline is touched by tears that form into uplifting bubbles. She organises her words slowly. Each one brings a sharp pang to your chest and your stomach to drop further and further down into the abyss below.

Your mother - the Queen - is dead.

Your heart is scored by the penetrating daggers of Poseidon's trident, the creeping of unnatural coldness sweeps the back of your neck and down over your shoulders, you huddle into yourself. You shake your head and it ensues into a maddening display of denial, your body trembles, the water grows increasingly troubled, once a calm settlement over the surface now laps at the surrounding edges of the enclosure.

This cannot be right, this cannot be the truth. No, you don’t wish to believe it. A weight is crushing around your chest, you want to resurface. For the first time, you crave to be out of the water. All you seek now is the scent of your captain washing over you, drowning you passionately in his possessive devotion, to be treasured by him and him alone, bathed in his dominating presence. His shadow.

At this point, you’d happily let him fuck the knowledge out of you.

In your abrupt desperation you take to moving swiftly, your head breaches through the barrier with a sputtering fit of coughs and gulps, but Mina follows you. Her webbed hand catches your wrist, her voice plucks through the ripples like the baritone string of a guitar. She calls for you to wait. Gently, she coaxes you to delve below once more, her eyes imploring you to remain, to not go running off to the very same man who wants for you and holds you captive.

The milky glaze of your eyes brim with tears, tiny bubbles run to the corners before they float upwards.

She rests her head to yours, silky thumbs caring over the form of your cheeks, running smoothly under the bend of your tearful eyes. When she believes you have calmed, she asks another question.

What else about this necklace can you tell me?

I hear… voices. A-a melody. I don’t– don’t understand the words. It plays faintly.

If the crew who harbours you stays for the festivities tonight, get the necklace and bring it to me. I may be able to appraise it.

A lump catches in your throat, eyes bearing your terror, the harrowing thought of being caught again. You aren’t sure if the potential of another scarlet mist is worth the risk.

Steal it? I-I can’t! He’d know if I stole—

You cannot steal what’s already yours, young one. Besides, you know just the way to get it from him. I saw the softened regard in his gaze for you.

What she suggests is laughable, and your disagreement shows, your head shaking and throat bobbing in motion akin to a scoff. But still, her insinuation brings warmth to bloom in your cheeks. Her brows furrow at this display, tail idly swaying, the length of her hair creating a dark, winding halo behind her. She dissects the gestures of your words.

His gaze never softens to me…

In spite of this, she rolls her eyes, but they are hopeful in their stare towards you. You were done with the search… before. Now, you want answers.

“Siren!” A familiar voice booms, tone muffled by the watery barrier. Answering his summons, you return to the world above, sighing a deep breath of air, the few faces you recognise are mere blurs, unfocused in your vision. Your eyes meet the wintery cold of his eyes, not softened, and clouded in their ever present desire to have you under him - pinned skin to skin to him - and his beautiful lips shaped into a smirk. His stance high above you dominates you in his darker shadow that casts over the water.

“Hope you’re in a festive mood, my little Siren.”

#bucky barnes x reader #female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x reader smut #pirate au #siren reader #pirate bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut

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hotreadingwitch · 1 month

Text

Bucky x Reader - Whiskey & Wine

Content Warnings/Kinks: OMEGAVERSE-ish, arranged marriage, praise kink, alpha kink, cum swallowing/play, choking, licking, hickeys, fingering, oral sex, penetrative vaginal sex (+ knotting), impregnation/breeding

Silent, stoic, cruel even, but undeniably 100% Alpha. Y/n had only heard reverent praise and scared whispers regarding the character of her soon-to-be husband James “Bucky” Barnes. She figured it was lower-level werewolves, ones with no real connection to him, that spoke of him this way. Maybe, though logic made her think otherwise, he was simply a kind man with a bad reputation. Surely not, but all she could do was hope…

The traditional march played as the wedding planner, a female werewolf of her future husband’s pack, ushered her down the aisle. Almost tripping on her heels, she tried her best to put one foot in front of the other. She passed her parents, the same ones who’d offered her up for the engagement in the first place, as well as members of both their packs sitting within the small church. Bucky’s back was broad, his stance dominant, powerful, and intimidating. Only when she was firmly planted next to him did he finally spare her a glance.

His gaze flicked up and down her face, as if he were tracking her or waiting for a particular shift in expression, one of fear perhaps, like he was used to seeing. She jutted her chin, packing away the stories of malice she’d heard about the man standing beside her at the alter, for sanity’s sake if not for her own self-preservation, because, though potentially cruel, he was possibly the most beautiful person she’d ever seen in her life. Her face must’ve flickered with the internal conflict warring within her because Bucky’s gaze sharpened, drinking her in like he’d sip whiskey over ice, slowly and with leisurely purpose.

Then, just as he’d finished looking her up and down, clear hunger in his eyes, his nostrils flared and his eyes widened. She knew then, flush creeping up the back of her neck, that they’d noticed it at the exact same time…the scent, the intoxicating smell. To her, he oozed of leather, wood, salt, and fire, but also, somehow, of home. His scent was so strong it was almost like a siren’s call. What she smelled of to him she did not know though it seemed he was struggling similarly. Her lips parted as her cheeks heated, almost curious enough to ask, as if the eyes of both their packs weren’t watching curiously from the church pews mere feet away.

“Ready, Alpha?” the officiant asked, clearing his throat.

Bucky’s stare was icy, causing the other man to jump slightly. It was as if he didn’t wish for the moment to be interrupted. She tucked that information, as well as the overwhelming realization of what his scent meant, away to deal with after the ceremony.

Y/n could barely focus on the words the officiant was saying. The religious component of weddings had never truly interested her. After a while, they were coming close to the end of their vows,

“…through sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part? The officiant asked.

“I do” Bucky responded, with so much certainty it startled Y/n.

“And you, Y/n’ he prompted, “do you promise to take James through sickness and health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

The arrangement between them was to broker peace between two confrontational tribes, a marriage made for her on behalf of her parents and his mother. He was older than her by maybe 10 years or so, having just ascended, becoming the Alpha of his pack when his father died. She met his gaze, feeling suddenly, for the first time as if she had a choice. It was something in the open way he was looking at her that made her feel as if she could trust him, as if she didn’t need, let anyone want, to run anymore.

“I do”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged in relief and Y/n was so fixated on the movement that she almost didn’t hear the officiant say, “You may now kiss the bride…”

Y/n’s face heated as Bucky gazed at her with nothing but pure want. The hostility they’d both had prior to meeting each other simply melted away, as did the rows of werewolves viewing the moment between them. His hand gently gripped her face, tilting her face upward. Her eyes fluttered closed as he came closer until suddenly his warm lips brushed against hers.

It was modest, controlled even, and over within seconds. In other words, Bucky’s kiss was nothing like what she’d expected. As she opened her eyes disappointment coursed through her until her eyes caught on his. That smirk, that slight narrowing of his dark gaze. He might not be giving it to her now but he sure as hell would be when a hundred pack members weren’t looking at them in their hotel room that night.

The crowd cheered as they turned toward them. Bucky’s lips grazed her ears then and she could practically hear the smile in his tone when he said, “Later…”

She blushed, taking his hand before making their way up the aisle, walking towards the big church doors and their future.

Click. The door locked behind them.

Bucky’s tall form moved towards her, easily overpowering her space with just a few steps. The hotel they’d been put up in for the night was massive, overlooking the city’s famous skyline, with a king-size bed in the centre of the space. His hand rested on her waist, his thumb caressing her skin. Even the heat from his hand through the fabric of her dress was enough to make Y/n's feelings from earlier all come to the surface. Y/n gazed up at him and judging by the way his tongue ran across his bottom lip, he could tell exactly what she was thinking about.

“I don’t want to overstep Y/n…” Bucky started, his hand still grazing her waist.

“I want you to” she interrupted, “Overstep, I mean…I want whatever you’ll give me tonight”

He cleared his throat and for a second she thought she may have misread the situation, his lingering looks, his words…his scent. Insecurity made her cheeks heat.

“But only if that’s what—“

“Shh,” his hands moved to her warm cheeks before his lips landed on hers, silencing her self-doubt in seconds. She’d normally balk at a guy telling her to shush and yet when Bucky did it her feminist cares went out the window. He kissed her fiercely then, humming onto her lips with pure satisfaction. His hands moved down to her ass as they stumbled backward towards the bed, pushing her down onto the silky sheets. He chuckled darkly as she bit at his bottom lip, dragging her sharp teeth across the delicate skin, “You’re gonna be trouble aren’t you?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be” she found herself whispering back, eyes still closed.

“And if I just want you Y/n?

That got her to look at him, to truly look, intently searching his gaze.

“Then you’ll have me” Y/n finally kissed him again, groaning into his mouth as his hands travelled across her body, “Take me, Bucky please, I need you…”

His hands moved down, checking her expression to make sure she was both turned on and willing, pushing her wedding gown up so that it sat around her waist.

“Fuck” he swore at the sight of her.

“Like what you see, husband?” She joked, playfully showing off her lacy, white panties to him.

But all she could do was gulp as his eyes darkened quicker than a rolling storm and he began to slowly roll up his shirt sleeves until they rested just below his elbows, giving her a front-row seat to his strong, veiny forearms.

“This arrangement is not—” he started only to stop and collect himself, rubbing at his stubbly chin, “You may joke about it now Y/n but the next time the word ‘husband’ comes out of your mouth it’ll be because you can’t help but scream it”

Before she could even respond, his hands were back on her, caressing the underside of her thighs, spreading her legs wide with gentle but firm pressure. She gasped as he slid her underwear to the side, hungrily taking in the sight of her slick pussy.

“Fuck, you’re soaked for me baby…” he groaned as his fingers started to run up and down her slit, “…Ruining these pretty little panties”

She whined in response, his fingers felt so good her eyes fluttered shut, her brain zeroing in on the pleasure.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she whimpered at the gentle contact, bucking her hips up to meet his touch.

“Good” he declared, his confidence infectious, turning her on even more.

“Yes,” her voice was breathier now, desire taking over her body and mind, the need to please him stronger than her will to live.

Bucky’s finger traced up from her slit to her clit, the simple motion making her shiver and moan softly. He rubbed circles around and around it, languidly, as if he could tease her pussy all day. Her slick made his subtle movements smoother than silk.

“Such a pretty pussy baby” he kissed at her inner thigh, his growl muffled as he sucked on her skin, “So fucking hot…and all fucking mine”

Bucky touched her like she was a goddess, like he believed she deserved to come again and again, as long as it was for him and only him. And she could tell it turned him on to touch her. Not only did his pants look extra tight, but his gaze was dark, and his cheeks flushed beneath brown stubble. He groaned as she ground her hips up, feeling his fingers with more pressure, making her eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me Y/n or I’ll stop touching you right now”

When her eyes snapped open, Bucky’s gaze was piercing.

He came up her body as slow as a predator, his tongue grazing her neck in a strong line, cool air tracing where he’d licked mere seconds later. She couldn’t help but shiver. The smooth lick turned to kisses, a smattering of gentleness that combatted his strong command over her pussy and made her melt into him, somehow even more than she already was.

“…I need you to look at me while I fuck you with my fingers, okay baby? Can you do that for me?” He said as he slunk back down.

“Yes,” she gasped needfully, not taking her eyes off of him.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes Alpha” she whined, pulling his hand back to her.

He slid two fingers into her wet hole, up to the knuckle, and she rocked her clit against his palm, chasing her high, taking everything he was giving to her and more without once breaking his gaze. His other hand mapped her thighs, tracing over her soft skin, almost obsessively. Her back arched at the feeling.

“So wet, so fucking tight…” his lips pressed between her thighs, causing her to gasp.

She whimpered and whined with every flick of his tongue as he licked like her pussy was coated in the sweetest honey.

“My needy baby…” He goaded her, making her groan, “Are you gonna cum all over this tongue?”

“Yes, fucking yes” she growled, gasping, “Don’t stop”

His fingers pumped, curling inside her as they did, his tongue lapping at her clit, until she was on the edge. Her body felt suspended in the air as if she was about to free fall. Back arching, she came, bursting all over his expert tongue. Only after she’d shuddered her way through the feeling did Bucky stop, removing his soaked fingers and sucking up all her juices.

“See that wasn’t so hard baby” he smirked.

“Yeah?” She glared, “Why don’t we see how long you can last being teased like that?”

Bucky’s eyes slowly lifted to hers, “You’re that desperate for my cock?” She aimed to gently slap his shoulder playfully but he caught her hand, grasping it tightly in his, “And here I thought you were a good girl Y/n…or maybe you just want to be fucked like you’re bad?”

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips. Bucky grinned fully, canines on display, before throwing her further up the bed.

“Hands and knees” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

The time for teasing was clearly over. Y/n flipped over, adjusting herself so that she was in the position he wanted. If her first mistake was being too playful, then her second was looking back over her shoulder just in time to see Bucky unzip his pants and pull out his giant cock.

“It’s too big Bucky…” she whined at the sight, tightening instinctively.

“You can take it baby” he stroked her clit softly between kisses on the back of her neck, warming her up again, “I know you can”

His praise made her practically light up inside. If he said she could take then that meant surely she could. To show she wanted it, she arched her back, letting out a small “please”

He spread her folds, opening her entrance to him before sliding in. She moaned at the feeling, not able to help the way her insides clenched immediately around him. Throwing her back, she was already beyond being far gone. Bucky’s hands swept across the swell of her ass, squeezing the flesh so hard she felt the action in her bones. He thrust slowly, teasing her, dipping his cock in and out of her until he was completely coated in her juices.

“Fucking soaked for me” he growled as he continued, “You've been thinking about taking my cock all night baby?”

“Yes” she whimpered and fuck, she really was a complete mess for him, putty in his veiny, sexy hands.

Bucky’s thrusts continued, speeding up slightly until she couldn’t help but beg him to go faster.

“Please…” Y/n whined, flustered by his teasing cock, “I need it…it—faster—fuck”

His hands ran up the space between her breasts from behind before settling around her neck, pulling her up so that her back was flush with his hard chest. Her heartbeat thundered beneath his palm as he squeezed, the pressure gentle but firm.

“You need what, baby?” His voice was rough in her ear, the sound of his breath so erotic she almost came right then and there, “Use your words and tell me like a good girl”

“I need you to fuck me faster—roughly, please”

If her request felt stupid to express aloud, Y/n’s embarrassment was literally fucked out of her instantly with the power of Bucky’s next thrust. Her back arched, making his cock hit deeper and causing her to gasp. He slammed into her relentlessly and when she looked back he had that feral grin on his face again. It was like he needed it like this, hard and fast, too.

“Bucky…” she whimpered, the noise garbled in her throat.

“Yeah, say my name baby, fucking scream it” he growled, his voice both intimidating and warm.

She clenched tighter around him, moaning at the intensity of the feelings her body was experiencing. He nudged her legs farther open with his knee in response, pushing deeper, eliciting another rumbling groan from her.

“…Right there” she whispered breathily as his groans of pleasure tickled the shell of her ear, turning her on even more.

He thrust and thrust and thrust, pushing so deep into her she thought he’d break her. But she didn’t break, in fact, she felt that with Bucky she probably never would. Moaning she bounced her hips back, driving into him, her pussy practically grabbing him and pulling him further inside. Her mind was turned on by Bucky sure, but her body, that was another thing altogether. She seemed to be having a reaction to him that even her mind couldn’t control. It was something deep within her that was attracted to Bucky, something both restless and needy and cellular.

Logically, she knew he must be her mate. Logically, she knew that having a mate, having sex with a mate, was explosive. What she didn’t know was just how explosive it would truly be.

“As soon as I smelled you, I knew you belonged to me” he groaned, his thrusts puncturing each sentiment, “Sweet wine, berries in the summertime…Perfect, you’re fucking perfect for me Y/n”

“I feel—“ her breathing became more and more laboured with each thrust, “—the same way”

His strong hand, gripped her face, tilting her lips backwards to meet his. Their kiss was passionate and full of all the things they both wanted to say. But they’d found each other, by a stroke of luck they had, and that was all that mattered. Words could wait.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cum…” he groaned, his grip on her hips tightening even more, “You know what’s about to happen, baby?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, telling him that she understood before whining, “Please..”

Y/n could feel it swelling beneath her but it didn’t scare her, if anything it made her want his cum more. The need to have him filling her was so intense, her pussy clenched harshly around him. With any other man her tightening that much would surely push him out but not with Bucky, not with her mate. She could feel his knot, his wet lips on her neck, his hand reaching down to flick at her clit, each pleasure making her gasp. Bucky was everywhere but more importantly, he was everything.

“Squeeze me, yes—fuck” he growled in her ear, “Taking me so good—taking all this cum for your Alpha”

“Yes, yes, yes—shit” she chanted, her body blissed out as the waves of her orgasm began to wash over her, “Please don’t stop”

“I won’t baby, never”

It was Bucky’s lust, his confession, and his confidence in their future together that sent her fully over the edge.

“Fuck” he breathed in a harsh breath as her pussy started to milk him.

She breathed in deeply, holding it in her lungs as the pleasure washed over her, making her body twitch and her back arch. And Bucky held her through it all. His hands roved over her with reverence, taking in her perfect form as it writhed before him as if he was in awe of his skill and how he was able to make her feel that good.

Only when she’d finally finished and he’d deflated, did he pull out of her. She knew then that, after this experience, they’d never part. They’d needed to fuck it out and now the rest of their lives would be better for it. His lips met hers before he began tracing her warm skin, planting kisses in the wake of his gentle fingers.

“You know…” she started, blushing as she immediately caught his focus, “You told me what I smelled like to you but I didn’t tell you what you smell like to me”

“And what do I smell like?” He smiled playfully, eyes still soft and hazy from his orgasm.

“Home”

#fanfiction #fanfic #smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #oneshot #marvel smut #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut

858 notes · View notes

grugruel · 4 months

Text

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction

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buckyscombatboots · 1 year

Text

Monstertober Day 6:

Below the lily pads🪷

Pairing: Swamp monster/Siren!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Non con, death, Dead dove: do not eat, dark!bucky, beefy!bucky, forced breeding, p in v, anal fingering, sex in a forest, sex near a pond, drowning, marking/biting, mentions of blood, scratching, choking, praise, delusional!Bucky, victim!reader

Nicknames: Doll, sweetness, doll face

Word count: 2.1k

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

You plopped down on the couch with a huff, that was the final box. You’d finally finished unpacking everything and now you could relax. You raised your head and glanced into your new garden, which was the woods connected to your property. The sky was dark, aside from the silvery glow of the moon and stars which hung in the velvet blanket of the cobalt night sky—it was going to get way darker. The thought of being unable to see into your backyard, which was now so much larger than before, made your stomach churn “Buy outdoor lights, noted.” You slowly rose from the couch staring suspiciously out into the thicket of dark fir trees, if you stared for long enough you could see movement, one day of being here and your eyes were playing tricks on you already making you paranoid “I’m going to go mental here, aren’t I?” You joked, turning away from the darkness outside your french doors and instead turning your attention to your beautifully lit kitchen. Your stomach rumbled lowly, it was way later than you thought and the day of unpacking had left you famished.

Looking at the contents of your fridge made you sigh, you had enough for a basic meal but nothing fancy. You grabbed the two cloves of garlic you had left, the random half of an. onion and the two tomatoes rolling around freely in the fridge draw and dumped them on the countertop “Pasta it is…Do I even have any pasta.” You stood on your tiptoes opening the cupboard and began to rummage, you had enough spices to open a spice market, stocked up on medications, hot chocolate mix, extra coffee and an assortment of herbal teas, but no pasta. You said a silent prayer as you opened the next cupboard and there it was, a half empty box of spaghetti “Thank all that is holy!” You exclaimed, placing it on the counter as you pulled out a pot and a pan and put it beside the spaghetti. You swayed along to the enchanting sound of man singing as you filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove, it was a song you’d never heard before. You began to hum along, turning to your record player curiously to see what record you’d put on. It wasn’t on. You hadn’t put any records on. There were no houses for miles, you were alone in the middle of the woods; so there was absolutely no way it was from a neighbour. You threw open one of the draws and pulled out the biggest knife you owned, the blade glimmering in the overhead lighting of the kitchen as you held it defensively up in the air. Standing as still as possible, you stopped breathing momentarily to listen, your heart thumping in your ears as you cautiously stepped towards the singing. The sound was coming from outside. Biting down on your lip you tiptoed towards the glass, squinting in an attempt to see outside. You pressed your face to the chilly glass, goosebumps rippling across your skin. You couldn’t see anything but the reflection of your house's Interior.

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, as your hand wrapped around the handle of the door, you begrudgingly opened it. Aware of every little sound; the swaying of the trees in the light wind, the metallic tick of the lock as you pushed on the handle, the crunch of leaves as small animals skittered through the woods. Every small noise made the anxiety rising within you worse. “Is anyone out here?” You called. Nothing. The smooth baritone singing continued.

Slipping on the pair of hiking boots you’d left outside to dry, you squeezed the knife; mentally preparing yourself to venture into woods.

You were deep into the forest by now, the singing was getting louder. You were close. “Singing stranger! Your voice is lovely, but this is private property and it’s late. You’re really freaking me out here, so if you could…maybe leave, that would be great.” The singing stopped, leaving you to listen to the soft chirp of crickets. You pushed aside some brambles allowing you to see a clearing and a pond surrounded by overgrown aquatic plants; long, thick brown pond reeds towered tall and piles of bulrush outlined the small waterhole. A small section of the bank was not overtaken by plants, a flat slab of rock that was damp as you advanced towards it bending just enough to swipe your fingers through the moisture. It had no smell, you thought maybe one of the fishes had splashed the water on it. Thinking that brought you solace. Looking closer at the pond, you adored it. It needed work that was for certain but you could definitely clean it up, add some lights around it and place a bench close to it to make it a cute picnic spot. Your shoes sunk into the mud as you crouched down next to the pond, watching as the reflection of the pale moon was distorted in the ripples of the water. You reach towards one of the water lilies, trying not to fall into the pond as you lean forward. The tips of your fingers brush against the soft, yet firm, petals and you try to pinch it between your outstretched fingers to pull it closer. You miss it. You glance down at the bank of the pond before shuffling closer to the edge, you repeat your actions from before but this time you're able to reach. You pull the flower closer, the pink of the petals becoming clearer as the lily pad parts the water drawing closer to you. Something wet and slimy grazes your ankle, making you release the lily, you fall backwards into the mud as you squirm away from the water edge. You let out a scream as a viscid webbed hand seizes your ankle, you kick and squirm against the tight hold.

“There’s no need to be scared, doll. It’s me, the stranger who was singing. You said my voice was beautiful.” From the clear water emerged a man with murky green gils framing his clean shaven face. Despite being in the water his hair was completely dry, the moon casting a blue glow down on his pushed back brown locks. His blue eyes were warm, welcoming and crinkled at the corners from the wide toothy grin stretched across his face, all of his teeth were pointed and curved like a shark. Murky water glided down his defined chest, as if his skin was covered in wax. You laid paralysed in the mud as he used his free hand to prop himself up on the bend of his tail, his scales glinting in the moonlight. Peaking out of the slit below his waist were two erect dicks, tinged green like his scales and ribbed. A bead of precum leaked down from the tip onto the other one below it causing it to twitch in response. You woke from your paralysis, scrambling on to your knees, Bucky lurched forward pushing you back into the mire “Where do you think you’re going, Doll? We haven’t even started yet.” His claw-like nails cut through your shirt and shorts like butter exposing you to the chilly autumn air, his nails scratching your skin deep enough for it to bleed as he cut through your clothes.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screamed kicking at his muscular tail, Bucky dug his nails into your sides making you yelp in pain—stopping your struggling as you felt the burning pain travel across your nerves.

“Stop struggling, Doll.” He hissed, spit flying into your face. You wiped it away with your arm and turned your head further to look at his face

“Make me.” You spat, grabbing a handful of dirt and throwing it at him. The warmth left his eyes and his smile fell, his cold stare remained locked on you as he slammed your head into the mud. You choked and spat as sludge entered your mouth.

“That wasn’t very nice, sweetness. I know what's best for you, so just lie still.” Bucky warned raking his claws across your back to pull you closer, he held both dicks in his hand lining them up to your hole. You tried to wiggle your hips away from him but he mercilessly slammed into you the tips of his dicks painfully bashing against your cervix as he stretched you open; a dull burn radiating through your waist. Your walls constricted around him trying to force him out of you, he thrusted against the resistance making an agony akin to period camps spread through your stomach. Bile rose in your throat as he continued his pounding, using you like a fleshlight. You felt the tip of his needle-like fingernail pressing against your rose bud, your screams of resistance were muffled by the mud as he forcefully shoved his thumb into your tight ring, a stabbing pain travelling across your back “So tight for me. All for me.” He moaned, draping himself over you and biting into your shoulder blade. White hot pain surged across your back corrupting your senses as white flashed across your vision. You began to struggle with new found vigour. But it was futile his body weight alone kept you pinned to the ground. Bucky’s snake-like tongue lapped at the blood flowing from the teeth shaped puncture wound hungrily. “Taste so sweet, doll. Never gonna let you go, you’re gonna have my babies.You want them don’t you? Want me to make you a Mommy.” Bucky whined, the thrusting of his hip causing more water to slosh out of the pond and splatter against you both.

“No!” You shrieked, hoping that for some reason anyone was in the vicinity to be able to hear you. You couldn’t give a shit if they were trespassing on your property, if they could help you then nothing would matter. He pushed your face deeper into the mixture of mire and swamp water, you dug your hands into the sludge below you endeavouring to not suffocate. You became frantic as you felt the oxygen left in your lungs running low, the taste of mud and swamp water entered your mouth through your nostrils making you gaged as you suffocated. Survival instincts took over your mind, dulling the stabbing pains throbbing throughout your entire body. You needed to get him off, or you were going to die.

“You don’t mean that, Doll, you’ll come to terms with it eventually. You’ll melt when you see how beautiful our children are going to be, I’m going to pump you so full of them. Your stomach is going to swell with our children.” As his thrust became more brutal he lent more of his body weight on your head. Your lungs burned, desperate for air. Your screams making bubbles in the ooze, you were swallowing dirt but all you could think of was survival. Your hands flailed behind you grabbing for the swamp monster, why you felt the firm skin of his torso you dragged your nails across it furiously. Trying to hurt him so he’d get off you. But your attack just fuelled his fire “I didn’t know you liked it rough, sweetness. You should have told me.” He purred, slamming into you with harsh, shallow thrusts. You felt warm puffs of breath against your throat before an intense, excruciating pain shot through your neck; his teeth tore through your skin as he bit down harder and harder tearing the muscles and skin from your throat. You couldn’t even scream, he’d torn out your vocal cords. The warmth of your blood against your freezing skin gave you a small moment of comfort as you felt your life fading away. Your body was so heavy, you couldn’t lift your hands. Your clawing and squirm slowed, the haze in your mind feeling as thick as the mud you were laying in. The pain stopped, everything stopped.

“Doing so good for me, Doll. I’m gonna cum. That’s it, relax for me. That's it. Gonna- ah-” Bucky gave a few more weak, shallow thrusts as his hot seed filled you. He pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, stroking your dirty, wet hair. He let out a soft chuckle “Already asleep. That really took it out of you? Didn’t it, doll face. You did so well.” He whispered, picking up your limp body and turning you to press your face into his chest “I can wait to start a family with you, Doll. You’re gonna be such a good Mommy.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @taramaria @anniellacinamon

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nataliasquote · 13 days

Text

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

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downbadf0rficppl · 2 months

Text

you're on your own kid

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

buy me a coffee

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