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antiquarianfics · 15 hours

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Taken pt. 10

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: sorry for the hiatus. here’s this. it’s not proofed. yay!

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.

—

Bucky comes to with a groan, sitting up from his position on the floor, a hand holding his head. He blinks a couple of times, scanning the room for any sign of you. You’re nowhere to be found. Shaking his head, he pulls himself off the ground, and starts heading to the meetup spot he and Steve had agreed on months ago in case Becca had to be taken somewhere safe.

As Bucky travels, he replays the conversation he’d had with you. Why the hell would you bring up a Greek myth? He struggles to make any sense of it, but then his brain picks out a particular part of your story:

“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Your warning—“Don’t turn around, James”— was certainly a code. After all, if you had struck a deal with Frost, and if you were working with HYDRA, then you were probably being watched, listened to. You couldn’t speak freely. But why Orpheus and Eurydice? Why that story?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Orpheus turned around… Why is that important?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

“This has to be a metaphor for us,” Bucky thinks. “Does she mean I’m Orpheus, then? Eurydice was trapped in the Underworld… Y/N is trapped by HYDRA… Does she mean to stop looking for her? Or does she mean to trust she has a plan? That she knows what she’s doing?”

Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid he would tell all the secrets of the Underworld.

Then, it clicked. Bucky isn’t sure exactly what it is that changed how he interpreted your story, but, suddenly, everything made sense:

1. Chance one to save Y/N: Russia. I didn’t save her. I only saved Becca. She is saying I don’t get another chance to try for her.

2. Y/N is picking off people Frost is afraid will come between him and HYDRA. Right now, I’m not apart of that list. Proof: She let me go. If I attempt a second rescue, she will have no choice; they will tell her to take me out. Besides that, they will certainly threaten Becca, and we agreed when she was born that Becca always comes first.

3. The muses kept his head? They won’t kill me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they will just capture me. She won’t give me up, but she’s more likely to slip up if it comes to me. A slip up is more likely to lead to… They’ll wipe me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they’ll wipe me if they capture me.

Bucky sighs as he arrives at the rendezvous he and Steve had agreed on. He feels a little better now that he understands more of what you were saying, but he still feels like there is a piece of the puzzle missing.

—

The team goes into hiding. You had revealed a lot about the dangers of HYRDA’s plans, but they still know so little. The team knew you had targets—important targets—that you were being forced to eliminate. They discerned the targets were people HYDRA feel are threats against their mission, but they still don’t have a definite list.

“We’re sitting ducks!” Tony shouts angrily into the room.

“Stark,” Fury says gravely, “watch it.”

“I’m sorry, but we are. We have no new intel. HYDRA is AWOL. The world is looking at us to do something, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Buck,” Steve says, “did Y/N say anything else that might give us a clue as to who she’s after?”

Bucky sighs, thinking back over the whole interaction from the moment you got there to the moment you knocked him out. It was as he replayed your conversation on the roof that it clicked: the missing puzzle piece. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes.

“She told me who she’s after.”

“Well?” Tony questions impatiently. “Who?”

“When I met her on the roof,” Bucky says, “Y/N told me she was marking 3 names off her list. That means her next three targets were in the Compound.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony says, “get me a list of every person who was in the Compound at the time of the break in.” FRIDAY responds in the affirmative.

“Then,” Bucky continues, “she asked me…” Bucky trails off as he tries to remember how exactly you worded the question. “She asked me: ‘You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?’

“I thought it was weird how she worded that. I’ve known Steve longer than anyone, and it was weird she called him ‘Captain America.’ But that was her clue. HYDRA has no problem with Steve Rogers—”

“But Captain America has been ruining their plans since the ‘40s,” Steve says, arms crossed as he puts together what Bucky is saying. Bucky nods.

“So the other two targets have to have been in the Compound at the time of the attack, and they have to be people that have significantly messed with HYDRA somehow,” Sam thinks aloud.

Bucky thought. Who else could HYDRA consider a threat to their cause? Who else has been foiling HYDRA’s plans time after time? Bucky scanned the room, eyes carefully considering each person. It could be any of the Avengers, he thought, but then you would likely have more than 3 targets. His eyes settle on Fury. Bingo.

“Fury’s a target.”

All eyes are on Bucky.

“How you figure?” Someone asks. Bucky doesn’t clock who, his mind still attempting to fit puzzle pieces together.

“Captain America is an obvious choice. It can’t be another Avenger because you’ve done equal damage to their cause. It’s not me because they don’t want me dead—I’m valuable to them. But Fury? Fury created the Avengers. Fury is the leader. He’s also the director of SHIELD: HYDRA’s number 1 obstacle. It makes sense.”

Fury hums in agreement. “Rogers and I make the most sense. We still have a third target to identify, though.”

Bucky nods in acknowledgment, but his eyes settle on Coulson beside Fury.

“Coulson.”

Coulson’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, as if he never would have expected he could be so important to Bucky. He swallows and composes himself, and when he speaks, he is calm, confident.

“I do make sense. My team and I have given HYDRA a real headache, and, like Fury, I’m the leader.”

—

With a list of targets that the team was agreed upon and confident in, it was time for a plan. They’d been idle too long. The plan is simply to get you back first, stop HYDRA second, but the way Bucky see is it, you are crucial to Frost’s plan. If they get you, Frost will be scrambling.

“Okay, team,” Steve says into a huddle. “Stick to the plan. The tip we sent out says I’ll be on a solo recon mission, so they’ll be waiting. Y/N will be waiting.

The goal is to get Y/N and bring her home.”

“And we’re sure she’s not just going to kill you?” Sam asks, facetiously. Bucky scowls.

“We have to hope that she really is just playing HYDRA’s game to stay alive,” Steve says solemnly.

—

“Any sign of her?” Natasha asks into the coms.

“No,” Clint says.

“Redwing and I got nothing,” Sam says.

The coms go silent as the team waits. Steve carefully walks through the hallways of the abandoned HYDRA facility. He’s careful—he half expects you to step out of nowhere and shoot at him.

He turns the corner into what appears to be the facility’s security room. Computer monitors line the walls, each showing different hallways or facility entrances. The room is bland and dark except for the monitors and the light emitting from them.

Steve’s eyes take in the security footage, the room, and the woman sitting in a large desk chair in front of the monitors, legs propped up on the desk the security equipment rests on.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

“You found her?” Bucky asks quickly, heartbeat picking up. He had been ordered to stay behind in the quinnjet, but if Steve found you, he’s leaving.

“Hi, Cap,” you say pleasantly. “Been a while.”

“You tried to kill me a week ago.”

You frown. “You still mad about that?”

Steve scoffs. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on, Captain America,” a third voice chimes in, “is the fall of the Avengers, of SHIELD, and the rise of HYDRA.”

“Frost,” Steve says, presuming he’s meeting the “mastermind” behind the whole endeavor.

“Captain Rogers,” Frost says with an over animated grin. “A pleasure!”

Steve turns back to you, ignoring Frost’s greeting. “You missed.”

“I won’t miss this time,” you say, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replies. “I’ve never known you to miss. Best sniper on the team.”

“Steven,” you say, an edge to your voice that confuses Steve. He opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of a gun cocking beats him to it.

Behind Steve, and then behind Frost, stands Bucky; he has a gun to Frost’s head. It’s clear that Bucky had snuck up on him.

“Well! Isn’t it nice of you to join us, Sergeant Barnes,” Frost says. “I just love a little family reunion. Tell me, how is the Mini Asset? Hmm?”

Still holding the gun to Frost’s head with his right hand, Bucky’s left hand goes around Frost’s throat.

“Watch it.”

“Buck, we need him alive,” Steve warns. Bucky releases Frost’s neck. However, in the small amount of time that this interaction took place, Frost had, unbeknownst to the three of you, snuck something out of his pocket.

“Well, this has been fun. I’m sure we will meet again soon,” Frost’s tone is sardonic. “Just know, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, that you may have gotten your little bitch back today, but this is far from over. HYDRA will rise again. SHIELD will fall.”

Then, Frost throws what he had pulled from his pocket to the ground and smoke quickly billows up into the room, filling your lungs and making you cough. You hear footsteps—Frost running. He must have taken Bucky by surprise, too.

When the smoke clears, you face your husband and run into his arms for the first time since being kidnapped.

—

After being rescued from Frost, Bucky and the team take you back to the Avengers’ makeshift headquarters. They (with profuse apologies) blindfold you on the way so that you’re not able to leak any information if you have actually turned against them, or accidentally give something away if HYDRA is watching somehow.

“I’m sorry, Doll. Y’know I trust you with my life, but we gotta be sure,” Bucky says. You rest your hand on his and squeeze.

“It’s fine. I understand.”

Upon your arrival to the HQ, you’re taken to an interrogation room where Fury and Coulson ask you about the kidnap, the torture, the deal you struck, HYDRA’s plans, and everything else up to your rescue. They hook you up to a lie detector machine, even, and ask you if you are working with HYDRA, if you had gone dirty.

“I promise I only did what I had to survive and to keep my daughter alive. I had to do what HYDRA asked. They’re everywhere. They’re within SHIELD, even. I didn’t know who could hurt her,” you swore.

When Fury and Coulson are finally finished interrogating you, they tell you they think you have a chance of being acquitted. You were a prisoner of war, and, surely, the U.S. government would see that. However, until then, you were in SHIELD’s custody and to be locked up. You agree without protest.

As you’re walking out of the interrogation room, hands cuffed in front of you, you see Bucky holding a sleeping Becca in his arms waiting for you. Your eyes widen.

“What is she doing here?” You panic.

Bucky frowns. “I thought you might want to see her. She misses you.”

“Bucky, if she sees me right now, what will she think? I’m handcuffed. The last time she…” You trail off. “I don’t want to see her. Just… put her to bed. Give her a kiss for me. Tell her I love her. Don’t bring her by my cell.”

Bucky says nothing as a couple SHIELD agents lead you away.

—

It takes 2 months for you to be acquitted. You stay locked up in a SHIELD cell, refusing to see your daughter, barely speaking to anyone for 2 months. When you are finally acquitted, it is because a private grand jury hears your testimony, Becca’s testimony, the Avengers’, security and personnel from the White House there the night you assassinated the president, and the families of the deceased. The ordeal is heart wrenching. You are sentenced to a year of probation (including not going on missions as an Avenger) and weekly court mandates therapy, but you are free.

When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

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iamleesi · 3 days

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THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You were rescued from Hydra and then joined the Avengers. Bucky seems to hate you and you’re sent on a mission together for undefined time.

Warnings: Mention of experiments, torture and d3ad bodies and things like that. Don’t read if you’re not comfortable with that. Bucky being a bit of an asshole towards you. Also the reader has a name and a last name if that counts as a warning?

Other: This will be some sort of MCU x Supernatural fic. English isn’t my fist language so I apologize in advance for any mistake I made. -> 18+ !!

-> Masterlist

-> Part two

-> Hydra is home (01)

You were born in hell. That’s what Hydra was for you and for everyone who had witnessed the horrors of what happened inside the walls of that place - and there was more than one facility. The worst part is that you didn’t even know, you thought it was normality.

You thought it was normal being used and trained to be a lethal assassin at a young age; you were the youngest and they made you feel special for that. Hydra’s perfect child, that’s how they called you. The only toy you’ve ever had was a knife, and you never questioned it or thought it was horrifying up until you were an adult.

From the earliest age, you were taught that your suffering served a greater purpose, that your pain was going to save that fucked up world you lived in. Not that you had any idea of which color the sky was up until you were six, let alone knowing the rest of the world and it’s shit. You knew no other life besides the walk between your room and the laboratory - the place where you were tied up to those cold metal tables under the gaze of Hydra’s scientists.

But to you, that was normality. That was home, the place you were the safest in - they said. Hydra fed you lies all your life, making you think their atrocities were for the greater good and that you were needed. What they were doing was needed.

Worst thing? You never complained. Always complied.

You learned later on in years that you were being used to recreate a better Super Soldier serum, like the one they used on Captain America and The Winter Soldier. A better, more effective serum that was gonna give them their disciplined weapon, with a few more characteristics. It was a mystery how you survived, to you and to everyone who took a look in your DNA.

They made you a freak.

When you were fifteen, things changed and your whole world turned upside down. It was in the middle of the night that you heard the facility’s alarm, the loud and scary sound meant one thing: bad people had broke in. So you did as you practiced: you moved the rug on floor and used that safety trapdoor to hide, hoping that they wouldn’t find you.

Meanwhile, SHIELD agents were storming in every room of the base, looking for either survivors or Hydra members.

Your heart stopped when the little door above you swung open and you saw a masked man pointing a rifle at you. Hydra was right, you decided then, those were bad people. You don’t exactly remember what happened after, you don’t remember if you tried to fight them or if you passed out. Everything is a blur memory.

What you do remember next, though, is being taken to yet another facility. In the beginning all you could see were monsters who wanted to feed you lies; they said Hydra was bad, that they were a terroristic organization who aimed to rule the world. Crazy, wasn’t it?

Hydra was home.

You didn’t collaborate with them for years, not even when Maria Hill offered you visive proof of how fucked up Hydra was. It was impossible that all you knew, all that you’ve been taught was a lie.

But there was another part: the pain stopped. No more experiments or missions to catch the bad guys with the little help all those samples gave you. No more blood or guns or atrocities - nothing.

Many people amongst SHIELD agents only saw you as just another freak, but weaker than Captain America and with a twisted brain. They saw you as no more than just another Hydra experiment, one that could not be good. You had no name, no family, no friends - you were just existing… and for what? You yourself didn’t know.

Nick Fury was the one who was interested in you. You had heard his name being mentioned a few times before actually meeting him. Perhaps it was just because you had some sort of Super Soldier serum in you and he was only caring for that, but he stepped in and helped you whether you wanted or not.

And he succeeded.

He saw beyond those scars, visible and invisible, recognizing the potential you could have as an actual human being. Fury insisted in your rehabilitation, and with time he saw the first results.

It took you a lot of time and effort to feel like a human being for the first time in 23 years, it wasn’t an easy process by any means and you still weren’t a hundred percent okay with everything. Being told that for fifteen years of you life you were nothing more than a sack of meat with a functioning brain for people to use to their advance wasn’t exactly ideal, especially after learning that it wasn’t normal as you thought.

At first you didn’t even realize how fucked up it was, perhaps you didn’t want to.

But under SHIELD’s care, you started to heal both physically and mentally as best as you could. You were given a name as soon as you were rescued, but you didn’t accept it up until you were 20.

Emma Dayne, that was your new legal name as a free woman. One that had a say in her own life.

That was the name Fury used when you were brought into the Avengers Compound as the newest addition to the team. You, a superhero? Sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Those people fought against the very same people you called family, those same people who raised you. Thankfully, they never held you accountable for that.

Except him.

James Buchanan Barnes. When he looked at you, all he saw was the enemy: someone who, unlike him, had willingly served Hydra for more than half of her life. He made it clear from the start that he didn’t trust you, he was always cold (which wasn’t rare, but even colder with you) and guarded whenever you were around.

Whenever his eyes found your figure, he couldn’t shake off the memories of his past as the Winter Soldier. The feeling of loss for the years that were stolen from him and that life he could never go back to came back as soon as he saw you, and he started to loathe the sight of you - he felt even worse when he saw how much the other teammates liked you.

But you could not blame him. Not even a bit. You took his silence as a reminder of what you had done - maybe if you had opened your eyes sooner you could have done something, anything, to help him.

After all, you two weren’t completely strangers. You both had worked for the same organization, and you saw him from time to time - you felt guilty. As soon as you saw the hatred in his eyes, when you joined the team, you were consumed by guilt.

But then again, the last time you saw him you were eleven. Super Soldier or not, you were a kid. Your therapist - saint woman - was helping you with that, at least. You knew that earning his trust was gonna take time, and maybe a lifetime wasn’t enough - you knew that in his position you would have been the same. Perhaps his trust wasn’t even your goal, you didn’t know what you wanted from him. You just knew that every time his eyes fell on you, you felt small. Smaller than a bug, and you wanted to change that.

You wanted him to know that you weren’t the enemy he thought you were.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Tony Stark’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, contemporarily snapping his fingers to get your attention. “Dayne, stop thinking about princesses and unicorns. I need your attention, sweetie.”

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts.” You replied, crossing your legs under the big, round wooden table. You were in the meeting room with the other Avengers - most of them, anyways, and their eyes were all on you. Not judging, some had smiles on their faces.

Except one who wasn’t even looking at you.

“Happens to the best of us too.” He shrugged it off, pointing at himself with a grin. Usual. “But seriously, now I need everyone’s attention or I fear Fury might kill me.” He continued.

“What’s the situation, Tony?” Steve Rogers inquired, his usual serious expression on.

Tony leaned forward on the table, after he sat down as well, clasping his hands together. “We’ve been getting reports of Hydra activity in various parts of the States.” He explained. “Specifically, they’ve been targeting civilians. They’re kidnapping them for, what we suspect, making experiments. They’re targeting people with no family, no friends or someone who wouldn’t look for them. They found the first body near the Donner Lake, in California. The first we were able to identify, at least.”

A picture of a woman appeared on a screen behind Tony, and he continued. “Taylor Harris. She was their first slip- up, as the woman had an ex husband and a kid. He divorced her because apparently she had an addiction to drugs and was physically abusive towards the kid. Ever since then, he got a restraining order against her and the full custody of the kid. Should have gone to jail but she went missing. She actually got missing three weeks ago, and she’s been presumably dead for at least a week.”

“What makes us think this is Hydra?” Clint said, his voice stern. The man had tried to retire about six times and yet there he was. “America is full of psychopaths.”

“True.” Tony nodded. “But they made some tests and traces of the Super Soldier serum was found. If it’s not Hydra, then I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“I thought they had the Super Soldier serum already.” Thor frowned, his mighty Mjolnir always by his side. “Why are they kidnapping people?”

“They had something else. They weren’t able to recreate it after they used it on Bucky.” You said, looking at the God. “They tried everything to come close to it, but pretty much all the subjects they experimented on died. Some turned into… things. And eventually got killed when they didn’t comply. I was the only result they had.”

“So… they want another you.” Thor looked at you.

You shrugged. “They want a lot of things. Probably they’re looking forward to make something that can’t break out of their control.”

“If you were ever out of their control.” You heard him mumble those words under his breath, but no one else seemed to hear. You were used to it by now, so you stayed silent as the conversation between the Avengers went on.

“So what do we do?” Natasha sighed, crossing her arms under her chest. Both her feet on the table as it was a habit of her it seemed.

“We send undercover agents.” Tony answered. “The agents being you.” He gestured to the whole room. “Or half of you, the ones suited for the job.” He added.

“Great.” Clint grunted.

“Natasha and Clint, you’re assigned to Las Vegas, Nevada - don’t look at me like that. Fury’s orders.” Tony pointed at the annoyed may sat next to Natasha. All he wanted was some time to play golf, and he was always called in for a new mission. He couldn’t even hear properly anymore.

“Steve and Sharon, you lovebirds are going to Denver, Colorado.” He went on, reading the pair of agents from his phone. “Yelena and Kate, have fun in Lawrence, Kansas.“

“And then… oh. Emma and James, you’re going to Lincoln, Nebraska.” Tony put his phone down. “Sam is momentarily busy in California where they found the body, so for now this is everything. You guys will find other agents there, you’ll meet them once you arrive.”

“Why these cities?” Bucky asked, clenching his jaw. This was the first mission where he was paired up with you, and he didn’t like it one bit. But knowing Fury, there was nothing he could do to change it.

“Because that’s where SHIELD suspects Hydra’s activity. There are some bodies that have been found specifically in these places, they’re unrecognizable and have been there for longer than poor Taylor. They believe they have undercover agents there, so that’s who you have to find.” Tony answered, chewing some cashews he kept in his pockets. For some reason.

“When do we have to leave?” Yelena asked, snatching some cashews from Tony’s hands.

He glared at her before answering. “You’re needed there Monday morning already, I fear. You have today and tomorrow to pack your things and get out of my sight.” He got up from his chair. “Have fun, fellas.”

“Wait a second, what about me?” Wanda asked as Tony was about to leave the room.

“You’re the backup plan, Granger.” Tony chuckled at his own nickname for Wanda. “So are we. They find them, we step in to take them down. Plus I need someone to punch Loki in the face in case he tries something, you’re the only one strong enough to do it.”

“Hey!” Thor sounded offended. “Not the only one!”

“This place is awful.” Loki mumbled.

“Then leave.” Clint scoffed.

“You’re dismissed, children.” Tony walked out. “Try not to stab each other.”

“And boring too.” Loki added.

* * * *

“You’re supposed to fold your clothes before putting them into the bag.” Bucky’s voice remarked dryly, taking your attention away from your bag.

He was leaning against the doorframe of your room, looking at you sternly. As always.

“Thanks for the tip, Barnes.” You retorted, messily throwing a pair of pants inside the bag. You weren’t really having it, ever since you learned that Hydra was kidnapping people to do to them what they did to you. Except that those people had a life before. “What do you want?”

He walked into your room without even asking for permission and tossed a stack of paper on your bed. “The details of this mission and our fake identities, wifey.” He sounded quite calm but you could see he was pissed about it, he always was when it came to you. “Thought you may want to take a look.”

“Uh?” You frowned at the unusual nickname, picking up the papers and reading as fast as you could, until your eyes landed on the role you had to play.

His wife.

What a joke.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, as you felt his burning eyes on you. It’s nothing you haven’t done before with Sam or even Pietro, but pretending to love him and be all affectionate with him in public when this was the longest conversation you’ve ever had? That was gonna be interesting, to say the least.

He nodded and turn around to walk out, but before he actually left he couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “One wrong move is all I need, Dayne.” He said, and that sounded like a threat.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of frustration and anger bubbling within you. “If I wanted to screw you guys over I would have done it already. It’s been a year, Sergeant, I believe you could trust me by now. Or at least start to.”

“Trust is earned, not given.” He replied, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “And you haven’t earned mine.”

“I’ll fucking live with it.”

“Have a good night.” He said without meaning it in the slightest, before leaving you to yourself once again.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Bucky Barnes was your personal headache.

#bucky x reader #bucky bar ws #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x oc #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #jbb #jbbarnes #avenger female reader #the avengers

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geeky-politics-46 · 2 days

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I binged Fallout last night, no real spoilers in this post, but in episode 6 when Maximus is all giddy and says "You wanna make my cock explode now?"that totally made me think of Bucky. Like I don't know why, but I can totally see him asking that if he's feeling a little silly or gets ahold of some Asgardian mead.

I'm clearly in a Bucky phase right now.

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gay-jewish-bucky · 23 hours

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Bucky, trying to make sense of the future: So... Nissans... did they name the cars after the month or something?

LMAO

#Jewish Bucky Memes - Text #marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes

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buckyalpine · 4 months

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

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

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

Bucky was in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much closer.

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

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

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

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

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

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

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

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

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was perfecttt.

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gutsby · 4 months

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Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

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

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

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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

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

Frankly, you were mortified.

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

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

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

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

“Put it down.”

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

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

“Are we done?”

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

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

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

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

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

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

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

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

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

“You like skylines?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James,” you hissed.

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

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

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

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

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

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James!”

Again with that name.

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

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

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

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

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

Like he’d read your mind.

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

“Just let it happen, honey.”

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

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

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

“N-no, Bucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open the fucking door!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

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

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

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

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

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

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

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

You barged in and froze.

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

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

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

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

He was only met with silence.

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

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

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

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

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

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

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

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

“James.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

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

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going, I’m good.”

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

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

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

“Aw hell.”

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

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

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

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

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

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

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

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

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

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

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

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

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

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

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

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

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

Your cheeks flushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

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

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

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

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

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

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

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

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

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

“One more for me, honey.”

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

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

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

“Sure you can.”

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

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

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

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

You would’ve liked to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 days

Text

Alpine Meeting Yours and Bucky’s Newborn Baby

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Sierra and Alpine

Summary: Alpine meets yours and Bucky’s newborn daughter.

Warnings: nothing but Fluff and cuteness

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“There’s mommy’s and daddy’s favorite fluffy princess.” Bucky coos at Alpine as she rubbed against Bucky’s legs. “Did you miss us?” He asks.

Alpine looks up at the two of you and meowed. She followed close behind you guys as you two went to the living room. You carefully sat down on the couch with yours and Bucky’s newborn baby girl Sierra in your arms. Bucky sat down next to you and Alpine jumped up on the arm of the couch, curious looking at Sierra.

“This is Sierra, Alpine. She’s going to be your new best friend.” You say softly.

You and Bucky watched closely as Alpine got on your lap to get a closer look at Sierra. Sierra made a cooing noise when Alpine’s whiskers tickled her tiny hand. Alpine softly nudged her head against Sierra’s hand before giving her little kisses on her little hand. Yours and Bucky’s hearts melted with cuteness as you two watched Alpine giving Sierra kisses. Alpine then moved herself to Bucky’s lap and made herself comfortable.

“It’s safe to say that Alpine is in love with Sierra.” Bucky says, gently petting Alpine.

Alpine jumped when Sierra started crying. She approached her to see what was wrong.

“I’ll make her a bottle.” Bucky says.

Bucky got up and went to the kitchen to make a bottle for Sierra while Alpine stayed in the living room, watching as you tried to get Sierra to stop crying.

“I’ll feed her.” He says, sitting down next to you.

You carefully placed Sierra in Bucky’s arms and watched as he fed her. Alpine curious tapped the bottle with her paw, wanting the milk that’s inside of it.

“No, no, Alpine.” Bucky coos at her. “This isn’t milk for kitties.” He tells her.

“I’ll get you some milk that you can drink.” You say, petting her.

You got up and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and poured a decent amount in it. You went back to the living room and placed the small bowl on the floor next to the coffee table. Alpine jumped off the couch and went to the bowl of milk. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Alpine’s little tongue dip into the milk as she drank it. The next morning, Sierra woke up crying, wanting something to eat. You went to get up to feed her, but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you back in bed.

“I’ll feed her, doll.” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“I can feed my baby, Bucky.” You say.

“I know you can, but you, my sweet doll, had a C-Section a few days ago and I can tell you’re still in pain. Besides you need your beauty sleep.” He says.

You looked at your husband and pouted, not wanting to argue with him. Bucky kissed your lips before getting up to check on Sierra. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when her cries slowly came to a stop. Bucky walked in the nursery to see Alpine in the crib with Sierra. He smiled widely.

“I see you’re doing your part, princess.” Bucky says, giving Alpine scratches behind her ears.

Alpine purred in response.

“You keep Sierra company while I make her a bottle, ok?” He says to Alpine.

Alpine looked at Bucky as if she understood what he was saying. Bucky went downstairs to the kitchen and made a bottle and went back to the nursery. He picked up Sierra and sat down in the rocking chair in her nursery to feed her. Alpine jumped out of the crib and jumped up onto the changing table to watch Bucky feed Sierra. A moment later, you walked in the nursery, smiling at the cuteness in front of you. Alpine meowed and jumped down from the changing table to greet you.

“Good morning, princess.” You smiled, reaching down to pet her. “Are you helping daddy with Sierra?” You asked her.

Alpine head butted your hand in response. You walked over to your husband and daughter, giving them a kiss on their foreheads. Alpine jumped back to her spot on the changing table.

“Our little family.” You say with a smile.

“Hmm.” Bucky hums, smiling.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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mrsbarnesblog · 6 months

Text

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets.

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt.

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words.

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?”

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?”

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?”

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.”

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!”

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting.

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you.

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes.

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food.

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened.

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues.

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it.

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief.

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.”

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way.

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea.

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.”

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together.

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him.

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food.

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth.

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion.

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking.

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body.

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date.

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day.

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face.

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.”

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep.

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms.

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees.

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him.

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.”

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush.

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom.

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him.

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute.

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face.

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked.

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head.

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.”

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud.

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips.

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss.

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down.

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on.

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.”

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it.

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—”

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan.

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet.

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace.

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.”

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.”

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes.

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night.

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave?

Wait a minute.

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining.

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table.

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

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1.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, slight objectification of men.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: Lily McIntyre met Bucky Barnes. Everything had changed, and now it's only him that matters.

A/N: You know what? Fuck it. Turns out I write more when I'm actively writing for all of you. Plus, I miss you, besties. Yes, I know-- it's only been two days, but I don't care. You guys give me the strength to face the day, and when I'm interacting with you, I'm happiest. So, we're starting the full roll-out of With Friends Like These... Now, there won't be multiple postings per day, so I won't be dropping a bunch at once. We're going to start nice and slow, lol. I hope you like it!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You stood outside the door to the bar, nervous as fuck. It wasn’t every day a girl got invited to spend an evening out on the town with the goddamned Avengers, and though you’d only known Natasha Romanoff for about six months now, you were honored she liked you enough to extend an invitation for you to join her and her friends on their off time.

Giving yourself a once over in the reflection of the bar’s window, you double checked to make sure you looked good– your hair and makeup were on point, your dark wash skinny jeans hugged your curves in the best possible way, and the black satiny top you wore under your leather jacket showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but not trashy.

You got this, you told yourself. You took a breath, and walked inside.

The place was dimly lit, but not too crowded. You were able to spot Natasha easily– it wasn’t as if the striking redhead was hard to miss. She sat at a high top with another redhead, nursing a vodka tonic. Catching her eye, you waved and made your way over.

“Major!” Nat greeted you, going in for a friendly hug, which you happily returned. “I’m so glad you made it!” She pointed to the other redhead– Wanda Maximoff, The Scarlet Witch, you remembered now from having seen her on the news– and introduced you. “Major, this is Wanda; Wanda, Major.” You shook hands as the other woman offered you a kind, welcoming smile.

“Finally, some balance to the force,” she joked. At your questioning look, she elaborated: “We are desperately outnumbered in the girl department when it comes to our friend group,” she said. “It’s just me and Nat versus the boys.”

“There’s Lily, too,” Nat interjected.

“Please.” Wanda said, waving Nat’s words off dismissively. “We all know that Lily is not one of us.”

Nat snorted into her drink. “Lily’s just not really a girl’s-girl,” she offered to you in explanation. “Very much sees herself as ‘one of the guys,’ if you catch my meaning.”

You nodded; you’d had plenty of experience with pick-me girls in the past. “Yeah, I know the type.” You waved down a waitress and put in an order for a frozen margarita.

“So, Major,” Wanda said, taking a sip of her beverage once the waitress had gone, “which one of our lucky bachelors is going to catch your eye tonight?”

“I don’t follow,” you said, confused.

Wanda turned to Nat and playfully hit her on the shoulder. “You bitch! You didn’t tell her?”

Nat had the decency to look sheepish. “I wanted it to be organic,” she said, offering you an apologetic smile.

“Natasha Romanoff,” you said, realization dawning on you, “did you invite me out tonight to try and set me up with one of your teammates?”

Nat frowned, looking remorseful. “I know I should have said something, but you’re always complaining about how you never have luck with dating, and it just so happens I live in a compound literally full of eligible men, so I thought… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

The waitress brought over your margarita and you raised it, toasting to Nat. “Fuck apologies; you want to hook me up with an Avenger? Girl, remind me to send you a gift basket!”

Nat and Wanda both laughed, raising their own glasses to toast with you. Wanda leaned over toward you, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Alright, don’t be obvious about it,” she said, “but our fine gentlemen are over at the pool table.” You followed her line of sight and were met with an array of some of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Yeah, you’d seen them on tv, and in magazines, but they were always wearing costumes and masks. But up close? And in person?

“Woof,” you said softly.

“Okay,” said Nat, leaning in on your other side. “Let’s size up our options. First, we’ve got Captain America, himself, Steve Rogers. All-American, corn-fed, take-home-to-mamma kinda guy. Such a gentleman, could bench press four of you. Knows how to treat a girl right.”

“And bore her to tears,” Wanda added.

“Wands!” Nat flashed her eyes. “We’re supposed to be talking them up!”

Wanda shrugged. “Facts are facts,” she said. “A sweetheart, really, but very old fashioned.”

“Fine,” Nat said, exasperated. “Moving on, we have Sam Wilson, our resident Falcon. He’s funny, charming, a great dancer.”

“Seriously good moves,” Wanda added with an enthusiastic nod.

“Smart, good listener,” Nat offered. “Incredibly loyal.”

“You make him sound like a puppy,” you said, laughing.

“Oooh, oooh, my turn!” Wanda said enthusiastically. “Next up is our resident himbo, the one and only Thor Odinson. Unbelievably endearing, the body of a literal god: Great hair, an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, arms that could snap your tiny little body right in half if he had half a mind to…”

“Down, girl,” Nat said, flicking some droplets of water from her water glass at Wanda. “Damn, we’re here for Major, not you.”

“Sorry,” said Wanda, ducking down to hide her blush behind her hair. “He’s just so… big. And… beefy. Like, what does one even do with that much man?” she asked, before muttering so low you could barely hear her: “I would really like to find out.”

You and Nat stifled your laughter. “Okay, definitely not going to be Thor for me, then,” you offered. Across the room, another man caught your eye, one Nat and Wanda hadn’t mentioned yet. “Who’s that?” you asked them.

Nat craned her neck. “Oh, that’s Parker. I dunno; he’s kinda on the young side for my taste, but the kid is 18, so if that’s what you’re into–”

“Ugh, no– pass,” you said, realizing she had been referring to the skinny teenager who was hanging on Steve Rogers’ every word. “No, I mean the brunet. Who’s he?” The more you studied him, the more you realized he just may be the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He was currently leaning against a pool cue, engrossed in conversation with Sam. He had a slight smirk on his face, as if he was keeping in a very humorous secret, and it painted his features in an adorably boyish light.

While you were looking at him, he turned his head and saw you watching him. You should have been mortified at being caught staring but instead, you were taken aback by how striking his crystal blue eyes were. You offered him a soft smile, and were delighted when his own widened in return, his cheeks taking on a dusky hue in the low light, before Sam elbowed him, bringing his attention back to the game of pool. He shot you another look, running his tongue along his bottom lip, before refocusing his attention.

“Oh,” said Nat, following your gaze. “Oh, no, no, no. That’s Bucky Barnes. He’s… not on the menu.”

You turned back toward her, disappointed. “Oh. Of course, guy that good looking’s got to have a girlfriend, right?”

Nat and Wanda exchanged glances. “Not exactly,” Nat said.

“Remember how we mentioned Lily not being a girl’s-girl?” Wanda asked, nodding her chin toward where the boys were racking the balls for a new game. You hadn’t noticed the woman in their midst before– petite, blond, and athletic.

“Yeah, Lily’s more of a Bucky’s-girl,” Nat added. “Just, you know, Bucky’s not aware of it.”

You must have looked very confused, because Wanda was quick to clarify. “Bucky only joined the team… what? Four years ago?” She looked to Nat for confirmation, and Nat nodded. “He was like a totally different guy back then. Didn’t go out, didn’t want to be around people.”

“Like Oscar the Grouch, but if you took him out of the trash can and gave him moderately better grooming standards,” Nat offered.

“Yeah,” Wanda continued, nodding in agreement, “and for the longest time, the only person he would talk to was Steve. But then, like, Lily made it her life’s work to become his best friend.”

“I remember it annoyed the shit out of him in the beginning,” Nat added. “Poor guy just wanted to be left alone to process his trauma.” She sighed. “But the girl was relentless. She’s got tenacity, I’ll say that for her.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” you said. “That she wouldn’t give up trying to be there for him.”

“No, sorry,” Nat said. “We’re not explaining this well. She basically made being Bucky’s best friend her entire fucking personality. It was like, any other friend she had just–poof! Stopped existing to her. We no longer mattered; everything became about Bucky.”

“It’s a bit much,” Wanda said. “She’s very… I don’t want to say protective is the right word for it, but very possessive of him.”

“It’s like no girl Bucky’s ever dated has been good enough to pass her standards,” Nat said. “And she’s had no problem making that abundantly clear, and I know she’s been the reason for at least a couple of his relationships ending. Poor guy’s balls must be so blue by now, they’re practically black; she never lets him get any action.”

You took a sip of your margarita. “Well, they’ve got to be sleeping together, right?” you asked. Nat and Wanda both looked at you. “I mean, that would explain it, right?”

“Oh, they are definitely not,” Nat said. “Though I’m sure she wishes. I heard him tell Steve she reminds him of his dead kid sister.”

You sucked in a breath. “Ouch,” you said. “Just what every girl wants to hear, I’m sure.” You looked back over to the pool table, admiring the way Bucky bent over to take a shot. “It’s too bad,” you said, turning back to girls. “I mean, he’s hot as hell, but no man’s worth taking on that kind of drama.”

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